Recovering from my bruises I’ve had time to think. All my life I said I wanted to be somebody. I can see now I should have been more sp…
Recovering from my bruises I’ve had time to think. All my life I said I wanted to be somebody. I can see now I should have been more specific. / When I was eight I had a teacher who I thought was wonderful, mainly because she believed there was more to early education than the repetitive chanting of numbers. She was also the art teacher and I glowed in that area. How I ended up in a high school for engineers and tech drawing buffs I have no idea but that’s when it all went pear shaped. I hated my time at school from then on. I seemed to attract school bullies. I was too ‘arty’ for them and at one point felt I was put on earth for no other reason than for kids to beat up. The only thing I took up at school was space. My parents had the impossible task of getting me there and short of setting about me with a sock full of billiard balls or using a chloroformed towel ……. no way! I ended up in the “naughty class” and the teacher was useless, no idea how to control creative kids. We must have picked up on that and had him marked down as the injured wildebeest limping on the edge of the herd. / My best mate at school was a guy called Jonnie Stick, which was odd because he was so thin he looked like he was made out of pipe cleaners. Jonnie had a Kodak Brownie 127 very popular camera in it’s day, made out of bakelite by the million. We would bunk off school together and ride the underground sharing the Brownie and taking shots of the passengers all day long. / His father worked in a chemist shop so we never had a source problem for film and he developed it for free. Jonnie had a wonderful knack of capturing people in morning mode and I always felt his photo essay of ‘Men in the smoking compartment’ was world class. / The years passed by and we lost contact after Johnnie and his family moved to Tasmania. I’ve often wondered what happened to him and his gift and always look out for something that suggests his work but you can’t watch everyone can you? Or maybe you can. / I get a great buzz when I find out that someone is watching me and feel quite special but my red bubble bursts when I find out they are also watching 756 other people. It takes the edge off if somehow. I know…………. fragile egos. / It reminds me of the gravestone that says “gone but not forgotten” but you have to pull all the grass away to read it.
My stitches have been removed so I’m off out with the camera again tomorrow. I don’t watch a great deal of T.V. so it’s been quite a no…
My stitches have been removed so I’m off out with the camera again tomorrow. I don’t watch a great deal of T.V. so it’s been quite a novel few days catching up with all the news. / They were playing swing on the TV. last night, seems it’s coming back into fashion. At last young people have realised that it’s quite cool to hold on to your partner when you dance. I remember it well. As a child of the sixties I would love to dance but always struggled with the ritual of asking a girl . Yet you knew that this was to be the time when you would meet the one………… THE very special one who was going to set your life on fire. THE one who you were going to spend the rest of your days with…… or at least tonight. Well, you didn’t want to go home on your own. Then the Twist came along and ruined everything. Not long after that I took off to New Zealand .. Straight from the swinging sixties. There was the music, the fashion, the scene, the swinging sixties of London!! Two days later I was in Auckland. I thought I was still tripping!!! / It’s all a blur now. Where did all that time go? Now I’m ‘middle aged’….. a time when if your clothes don’t fit it’s you that needs the alteration.!! A time when you wake up in the morning and start thinking in a moment of insane and irrational optimism that in a week or two you’ll be feeling as good as ever!!! It’s not true. / I was at a dinner party recently and someone asked ” Do you remember the first time you had sex?”………. I can’t remember the last!! My body is changing shape, I can’t hold my stomach in anymore, all my glands are swollen up………except the one that’s designed to!!! I never used to worry about getting old because I never knew any old people called Terry. What happens ? Does the day suddenly arrive when you have to change your name to Albert? I suppose you don’t worry about anything until you think you might lose it. Thank God I haven’t started losing my hair. That’s got to be the worst the hair, wouldn’t you think? You can go to the gym and work off some extra weight if you’re out of condition but how do you work off a bald head? / I get caught between a healthy body and a healthy bank balance. Which one do I concentrate on . I ask my friends and they’re no help. Their message is the same…......‘Money isn’t everything’ / They say “As long as you’re happy!” they say…..“Oh… oh, he might be a famous rock star with forty eight million dollars in the bank living in a 15 bedroom mansion overlooking the ocean and married to a beautiful woman half his age ….. But…… is he happy?? Does a dog shit is my standard answer. My old dad (God bless him.) he used to say” You can’t take it with you”… I can’t afford to go!.. I’ve been paying into an account that allows me to retire at sixty on 1800 a month . I just found out they mean calories!!…. They say …”money isn’t everything, as long as you’ve got your health!” / My friends say to me “why don’t you go to the gym, it’ll help you focus, help you sort your life out” I went to India to sort my life out, didn’t do me any good. I came back just the same except four stone lighter. The food in India is like ‘the magic porridge pot’.. one portion of curry in this end ….fifteen portions out the other. You could not fit the contents of my arse inside Dr Who’s Tardis. / They say “you should go to the gym and get a work out” My local gym has a notice at the entrance saying ..‘under no circumstances is this gym available for workout till 5am…………. 5AM! At that time of the morning I can’t work out how to open my eyes!! In my teens I always assumed there would be a golden period .. After the spots cleared up and before my hair started turning white. I’m already past my physical peak. It’s like the summer seems to have only just begun when you realise that the nights are already drawing in. Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellp!!!
If you grew up in Melbourne during the 60s, you won’t need to ask what I’m talking about. / The Samurai was the show everybody watched…
If you grew up in Melbourne during the 60s, you won’t need to ask what I’m talking about. / The Samurai was the show everybody watched after school. Shintaro, the heroic samurai, fought the evil ninjas of old Japan, dispatching at least a couple in every episode. The show had some sort of magic to it. Even though it was quite new it looked years and years old. And it was dubbed of course, which made it even more mysterious. / Earlier this year I rediscovered The Samurai at my local video library (Planet, Beaufort St Mount Lawley, excellent range movies, music, books). I’m pretty sure that Shintaro wouldn’t get within coo-ee of an afternoon slot these days: way too violent (for a generation raised on video games – yeah, right), but worse than that, it’s black and white! Overall the show has survived well. A little corny at times, but the adventure is still there. And now as an adult I can appreciate aspects that I didn’t notice as a kid. In every series Shintaro came up against a different group of ninjas; they would meet at the beginning of each episode, their numbers steadily dwlindling as the Samurai sent them to join their honourable ancestors. There’s more information here / As a footnote, there was one series that Channel 9 didn’t broadcast back then. I know that from the opening credits – in which a ninja’s severed arm flops to the grass… And if you’re wondering what got me on to this subject – here’s your answer. /
I can sense the rhythm humming / In a frenzy / All the way down her spine Ring a bell? For those who find these lines strangely fam…
I can sense the rhythm humming / In a frenzy / All the way down her spine Ring a bell? For those who find these lines strangely familiar, I bet you’d remember the film clip. Who amongst us can’t recall the spectacular “Girls On Film”, hypnotising to my pre-teen self and many of my age group, and still guaranteed to raise a smile at parties…and maybe more than a smile ;) I saw Duran Duran live last night. For those of you asking ‘who?”, please leave the room immediately, and shut the door behind you – I don’t need any smart comments saying they weren’t even born. The 80s were famous for many things – lurid colours, the birth of Goth, fingerless lace gloves, Michael Jackson looking human – but mostly for tacky as hell pop music. And nothing else will get me on the dance floor. I remembered all the lyrics. I remembered copying the hilarious New Romantic dancing, watching their yacht-hopping playboy filmclips on “Countdown”…but most of all, I remembered John Taylor. Their bass player was the first man to ever make make my inner strumpet sit up, and take notice. I swooned over the others – and personally, despite his spectacularly daggy dancing last night, I would still leave room for Simon le Bon – but John Taylor…..oh my lord…..for an 11-year-old, it was a startling awakening. I recall watching him in the “Hungry Like The Wolf” filmclip, bare-chested as he ran through a Sri Lankan marketplace, panting and sweaty, and thinking….hang on…what’s happening to me?! And the child in me started packing up her place at my table, exiting with a wink and a sly “you won’t be needing ME anymore” over her shoulder. You don’t forget that. You don’t forget the freedom and exhilaration that comes from dancing to your favourite band as you straddle the line between child and adult, blissfully unaware that you have to crawl through adolescence to get there, before Duran Duran and Culture Club gave way to The Exploited and Pantera, before wide eyes gave way to a furious scowl. Unfortunately, you also don’t forget the image of Duran Duran in matching shiny suits, standing behind a bank of keyboards like they were channelling Devo, or the sight of their back up singer in a vintage 80s dress made of silver foil, or the choreography that hasn’t changed since then – and really should have. Or looking around at the crowd and having your friend murmur “you realise this is our peer group?” But I don’t think I want to. Now, if anyone hears that Spandau Ballet are touring, can you let me know?
After lunch, today, I’ll drive to Surf Rd, in Cronulla and collect my five framed paintings. / Then drive to Short Street, Oyster Bay and…
After lunch, today, I’ll drive to Surf Rd, in Cronulla and collect my five framed paintings. / Then drive to Short Street, Oyster Bay and drop them off at the public school. (Today there is a teachers’ strike.) / / Last year was the first time that I entered paintings in the 37th Annual Oyster Bay Art and Craft Festival. A clever way to raise funds for that school. / Retired from 37 years of teaching primary school kids, it felt funny, to cross right through a busy playground, full of kids, after a break of seven years, looking after very elderly parents. (Unbelievable. Seven years, already?) / I parked beside the playground and there were some girls sitting at the gate, obviously having fun, directing lost souls, like me and I turned into a school-teacher again. / / Hard to describe what it’s like to be in that atmosphere again (of running, playing, laughing, shouting, talking, moving kids) after six years of hospital visits, nursing homes, and being with people in their eighties. / / It happened again, last night. I rang the school. I had rung the home of one of the organisers. A very polite young lady explained that her mother was at the school, getting things ready and could ring back later that night. So I took a punt and yes, the principal answered the phone. / / It happened again. The lost feelings returned. Mark and I had shared refereeing our school soccer teams quite a few times, through the years. / Our schools are located only about two suburbs apart. / His wife and I have taught at that school for quite a few years. / For a few minute I was a chalkie again. / / All five paintings are of children I’ve known. Although two of the paintings are of a fictional child: Remi, from Alleen Op De Wereld, by Hector Malot (translated from Sans Famille.) (Alone in the World, read to me by my mother, several times over in the 1940s.) / / The girl in the portrait (now seven years older) knows she’ll be hung. I found her (No thanks to The Body Shop, in Miranda), in the phonebook. / Two girls, in the group painting may just be surprised, if they still live in the area and happen to visit the fair. ** / It’s all good fun. /
Thank you Nostalgic Art and Photography / For featuring Forties Gals...
Thank you Nostalgic Art and Photography / For featuring Forties Gals
Understanding in silence / Smiles in the dark / Shared stargazing / A giggling spark I saw some teenagers giggling / I got inspired / And a…
Understanding in silence / Smiles in the dark / Shared stargazing / A giggling spark I saw some teenagers giggling / I got inspired / And a little nostalgic Then this happened…..there were pens and ribbons involved
Dream Odyssey !http://images-2.redbubble.net/img/art/backingcol…
Dream Odyssey Thanks Macabrecat for making my day again, this is her second purchase for my owl cards! :D :D :D She’s an owl collector and she takes great photographs of her owls too, will be good to show you guys what she has in her owl portfolio :D Owl In Nice Red Dress Vintage Owl Watching Over You / The Trio
I’ve been reading through / Old diaries of mine / As I’ve not much to do / It seems like a good time / To bring some order / To my keepsakes’ ...
I’ve been reading through / Old diaries of mine / As I’ve not much to do / It seems like a good time / To bring some order / To my keepsakes’ trove / And giggle at / These things I love Ladies, did you scribble down your loves too? / Lads, yep, little girls are that silly welcome to a world of pre-teen whimsy
The Nostalgic Art & Photography Group was in need of someone to take up the reig…
The Nostalgic Art & Photography Group was in need of someone to take up the reigns, so Peter (el presidente of the good ship RedBubble), the lovely Taschja Hattingh from South Africa, and I have joined forces to co-host it. We are in the process of reviewing current work, putting some processes in place to ensure smooth running of admin issues, and will then be off and running with a fresh gallery of wonderful images featuring oft forgotten times, places, objects … To those on my watchlist, it should come as no surprise that all things nostalgic, vintage, and aged is right up my alley! Feel free to browse, join, make suggestions … would love to see you there!!!
A little trip down memory lane and nostalgia. A childhood favourite I committed to memory aged 10. The Daffodils I wandered, ...
A little trip down memory lane and nostalgia. A childhood favourite I committed to memory aged 10. The Daffodils I wandered, lonely as a cloud / That floats on high o’er vales and hills / When all at once I saw a crowd / A host of golden daffodils. / Beside the lake, beneath the trees / Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine / And twinkle on the Milkyway / They stretched in never ending line / Along the margin of a bay. Ten thousand saw I, at a glance / Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, / But they outdid the sparkling waves in glee / A poet could but not be gay / In such a jocund company. I gazed, and gazed, but little thought / What wealth the show to me had brought. For oft’ when on my couch i lie / In vacant or in pensive mood / They flash upon that inward eye / Which is the bliss of solitude. And then, my heart with pleasure fills / And dances with the daffodils. William Wordsworth
Here is the place to scroll through all the images on the Sonate Calendar...
Here is the place to scroll through all the images on the Sonate Calendar at big size. Hope you enjoy them! I certainly got a big buzz from making them all. All pieces have been made in the manner of traditional collage, with scissors and glue, recylced sheet music and magazines. / / That’s a lot of pictures!
I’m so excited to see that a couple of my images did really well in recent challenges. Thank you so much for the opportunity to share my…
I’m so excited to see that a couple of my images did really well in recent challenges. Thank you so much for the opportunity to share my images and for the wonderful reception they’ve gotten! The Nostaligic Art & Photography group had a Still Life with a Twist challenge and Keys placed in the top ten. The Capturing Emotion group had a Hats challenge and So Sad made it in the top ten. Thank you so much!
Tender Things is my latest solo exhibition and it opens on the 30th of April at the…
Tender Things is my latest solo exhibition and it opens on the 30th of April at the gorgeous Hand Held Gallery in Bourke Street Melbourne city. / Hand Held Gallery is an amazing small scale space and as well as being a gallery space it also features handmade book arts and objects by local artists as well as a palm/tarot reader! Definitely a space worth checking out. / This is my second solo show and it features a small collection of my handmade books, zines, objects and new drawings. Hope you can come along and take a look. Here are the details: / Tender Things by Paul Compton / Hand Held Gallery / Suite 18, Upper Level, Paramount Arcade / 108 Bourke Street, Melbourne 3000 / Opening Night: 30th of April 6pm-8pm / Exhibition runs til the 26th of May / Gallery open: Monday-Saturday 12-5pm Please click here to view the online advert Apologies for my absence from the bubble recently I have been quite busy. Hope everyone is well. .
Whilst some people talk of how much they dreaded and were bored by the traditional family slide night, I was always a fan of those evenin…
Whilst some people talk of how much they dreaded and were bored by the traditional family slide night, I was always a fan of those evenings spent in a darkened lounge room, the curtains closed, watching colourful images from my parents’ and our collective family’s trips away. Whether photographs from the trip to the USA my parents took when my brothers and I were in early primary school; a trip that brought us each various souvenirs including t-shirts, before souvenir t-shirts became all post-modernist and declared themselves uncool (mine was from San Francisco and said “Go climb a street”). Or photographs from Antarctica and other strange far away places my Uncle John traveled to. Or even the photographs from the travels we three children ventured on with my parents around the Northern Territory when we lived in Darwin. Slide nights are up there in my list of favourite memories, along with nights spent lying rugged up on banana lounges in the backyard of my maternal grandparents’ house in Northbourne Avenue in Canberra whilst my Granddad pointed out constellations and my Grandma brought us out warm cups of Milo. The hum of the projector, the clacking of the slide tray turning or sliding as the corded remote was pressed, the delays when a slide got stuck or the attempt to go back to the previous slide caused a technical malfunction, and the dust particles floating around in the projector’s light. The projected images contained amusing memories of places we’d been, or acted as portals into intriguing places we hoped one day to go. And, of course, played an important part in inspiring my love of photography. For a couple of decades slide nights in our family died off. My parents, like most folk, started taking their holiday and family snaps with negative film instead of as transparencies; and the act of reliving our family holidays or experiencing each others’ was relegated to sitting around a table, possibly as a group, and passing around 6”x4” prints; or in the case of my photographs from the UK, viewed by my parents online long distance on my website. Perhaps, given that by this time there were five of us recording our holidays in photographic form, this was a good thing. However, with the advent of digital photography, “slide nights” are back with a vengeance in my parents’ house. Now they can be enjoyed in the morning and afternoon, not just the evening as they don’t require darkness; and there is (somewhat) less pfaffing with the cycle of images played through the DVD player. After viewing my parents’ photographs from their trip to Africa last year and from their travels around the Eastern Rockies, USA, in 2006, I persuaded them to set up a RedBubble account for their travel photography. You should check it out
it was a / wonderful day / and somehow / that / was enough.
My son just had his Kinder photos taken and even though I take hundreds of photo’s of him… I just had to buy many of them! (this is my …
My son just had his Kinder photos taken and even though I take hundreds of photo’s of him… I just had to buy many of them! (this is my fave cause his tongue is sticking through his front teeth) :) When I got them and I looked through them they were in a little plastic photo album with the portraits in the front… the ‘action’ shots in the centre and then of course the class portrait with the teachers at the end. My Kinder photo’s were nearly exactly the same! It brought all my memories of my Kinder photo’s come crashing back (and I remember so much of my Kinder – the funnest and free-est time of education). So of course nostalgic me (I’ll admit I get nostalgic a lot!!) looked up my old Kinder pics…
CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL MY FRIENDS WHO WERE BORN IN THE 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s! First, we survived being born to mothers who sm…
CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL MY FRIENDS WHO WERE BORN IN THE 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s! First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us and lived in houses made of asbestos. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese, raw egg products, loads of bacon and processed meat, tuna from a can, and didn’t get tested for diabetes or cervical cancer. They didn’t need “eat by” dates to tell them when something was past redemption: their eyes and noses did that job. Fridges? What were they? Then, after that trauma, our baby cots were covered with brightly-coloured lead-based paints which we scraped off with our new teeth. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and, when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets or shoes; not to mention the risks we took hitchhiking. As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle. Take away food was limited to fish and chips because there were no pizza shops, McDonalds , KFC, Subway or Nandos. Even though all the shops closed at 5.30pm, and didn’t open on Wednesday afternoons or at the weekends, we somehow managed to avoid starving to death! We shared one soft drink (remember Tizer and Corona?) with four friends (one of whom ALWAYS had a snotty nose) from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this. We could collect old drink bottles and cash them in at the corner store and buy Toffees, Gobstoppers, Bubble Gum, Sherbert Fountains and some bangers to blow up frogs with. We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter, and drank soft drinks with sugar in them, but we weren’t overweight because WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!! We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach us all day .. and we were always O.K. We were bathed once a week WHETHER WE NEEDED IT OT NOT. We would spend hours building our trollies out of boxes, old pram wheels and rusty 6” nails pinched from Dad’s shed, and then ride down the steepest hill we could find, only to find out we forgot the brakes. We built tree houses and dens and played in river beds with Matchbox cars. We did not have Playstations, Nintendo Wii , X-boxes, or video games; we didn’t have 999 channels on SKY, or video or DVD films, or mobile phones, or personal computers, or Internet or Internet chat rooms: WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them! We fell out of trees, got cut and bruised, broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from these accidents. Only girls had pierced ears! We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever. You could only buy Easter Eggs and Hot Cross Buns at Easter time! We were given air guns and catapults for our 10th birthdays. We rode bikes or walked to a friend’s house and knocked on the door, or rang the bell, or just yelled for them! Mum didn’t have to go to work to help Dad make ends meet! RUGBY, FOOTBALL and CRICKET had trials and not everyone made the team. Those who didn’t had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that: getting into a team based on MERIT!! Our teachers used to hit us with canes and gym shoes, and bullies always ruled the playground at school. The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law and gave us a damned good pasting when they got us home. Our parents didn’t invent stupid names for their kids like ‘Kiora’ and ‘Blade’ and ‘Ridge’ and ‘Vanilla’. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL! And YOU are one of us and, despite not growing up in an era when lawyers, social workers and the government regulated your lives “for your own good”, you managed to survive! CONGRATULATIONS!
Just wanted to share with you the news on my “first” photograph feature – *Train Arrival...
Just wanted to share with you the news on my “first” photograph feature – Train Arrival. / A little shocked to say the least, but very pleased and honored at the same time. / I would like to thank the host of Nostalgic Art and Photography very much for the honor of being featured at your group. Jay
Wohoo! One of my Nostalgia still life photos has won a challe…
Wohoo! One of my Nostalgia still life photos has won a challenge on dpreview.com / As a result, my image is now on the homepage of dpreview in the challenge winners slideshow. Something I just wanted to share with you. :) The challenge was These old shoes… and my submission was The Gardner’s Shed
What more can I say? People have been asking for a calendar of my Nostalgia...
What more can I say? People have been asking for a calendar of my Nostalgia series and here it is: Any ideas on how to promote this? As you can’t add a calendar to a group, possibilities within RB are rather limited I think.
Sydneysiders – I’d love to have you join me on 7th November when we’ll share tips and tricks on turning memorabilia into wall hangers. (W…
Sydneysiders – I’d love to have you join me on 7th November when we’ll share tips and tricks on turning memorabilia into wall hangers. (Why have the family squabble over your treasures – turn them [the heirlooms, not the relatives! Now there’s a thought … ! ] into a work of art which each member can own!) This is NOT a scrapbooking exercise – it involves setup, lighting, and processing with either Photoshop or Picasa (free software) – learning to give the image depth, engage the emotions, and produce a unique nostalgic feel. See the flyer below for details … / Samples / / Workshop details /
Thank you kindly to the moderators of the group Nostalgic Art and Photography for the feature of my image *Thinking Back to Days of Old…
Thank you kindly to the moderators of the group Nostalgic Art and Photography for the feature of my image Thinking Back to Days of Old. Much appreciated! / Pamela /
wiki defines ‘unrequited love’ as love that is not openly reciprocated, even though reciprocation is usually deeply desired. The beloved …
wiki defines ‘unrequited love’ as love that is not openly reciprocated, even though reciprocation is usually deeply desired. The beloved may or may not be aware of the admirer’s deep affections. ‘unhealthy love’....well that is open to interpretation… offload your stories…. and i will create a reminder of your pain…a calendar :) / all you have to share with me is a relevant month and the stories… you will remain anonymous… IMPORTANT PLEASE BMAIL ME IF U WANT THIS TO BE PRIVATE… WRITING IN COMMENTS IS PUBLIC VIEW!
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