Front page of The Global Mail at 6.14pm WAT

I heard Monica Attard today on the radio talking about this new journalism experiment – The Global Mail – a new independent, not-for-profit journalism wet dream of a site.

No advertising, no subscriptions, fully funded by a philanthropic businessman who wanted to do something to protect quality journalism in a world where the profession is hacked by a reducing advertising spend, and a fragmenting media space.  Where “real” journalists are a dying breed.  Where interests of mega-media types of the Rupert Murdoch variety rule and competition comes not from other journalists but citizen reporters, bloggers. Where being first does not always mean being accurate, but nearly always means a grainy picture “or it didn’t happen”.  (Monica didn’t say all that I hasten to add, that’s just the vibe I got)

So what’s The Global Mail like?

Well really you should check it out for yourself but since you asked…

In one word… classy.

Nice font (open sans if you’re interested)… and nice and big for those blind as a bat like me.

Horizontal scrolling… which takes a bit of getting used to (I wish the little scroll thingy on my mouse worked to scroll horizontally) but was, according to Monica, so that their yet-to-be-developed app works better.

Beautiful imagery – make sure you look at the photo essays.  Gorgeous.

Writing – again quality stuff.  The sort of writing that makes you wish you wrote better.  Sigh… (moment of reflection)

Loved the article on the Superbowl – I’d never thought about sport in terms of countries like that.  Also enjoyed the Obama article.

So overall go The Global Mail… and if you’re ever wanting a Western Australian team member…

But I do have some suggestions… what you thought it was going to go all your way??

Did you not read your own article about bloggers who like to tell the truth and not suck up to people???

First, while I quite like the horizontal scrolling – I’d quite like to be able to see who has written the article and the title on each page.  It’s a pain to do the click click click thing to get back to the start.

And call me a flibbertigibbet, but some of the articles are very long – too long for my attention span… although if I was not online they would probably be perfect.

User generated stuff… what’s the deal there.  No comments when I checked in and yet very easy to send one in.

I would like to see a section on upcoming features that could call out for help in getting those stories.  Use citizen journalism for good not evil.

Small quibbles indeed.

Keen to hear your thoughts as well… and your thoughts on the need for this kind of website as well.  We have a national broadcaster with the same remit.  Is that not enough?

(My view is Bring. It. On.  The more journalism like this in the world – the better.  But I guess you figured that out.)

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A water view and decking beneath my feet

You find me this afternoon, dear reader, writing from my new outdoor office.

I’m mid holiday, we’ve finished the pergola and the decking.

It’s 35 degrees and hot so I’m in my wet bikini (imagine me slim please) with a large glass of icy water which I hope will be replaced by a St Clair Savignon Blanc within the hour.

I am a third of the way through my reading list for this year’s writers’ festival.

I’m chairing the bloggers’ forum and for once feel a tiny bit qualified to be amongst the literati.

Of course all the bloggers on my panel have also written books.  Show offs.

Apart from appearing as an extra in my very own version of The Renovators, this week I’ve been going along to the “advanced” storytelling course led by Brian Finkelstein from The Moth.

It’s the advanced course because I did another course this time last year with Margot Leitman, not that I consider myself advanced at all.

I was a bit nervous this year.

Last year, well I was a n00b wasn’t I so it didn’t really matter if I was rubbish… but now… I’m “advanced”.

There are expectations.

And everyone else is so good, including my partner in crime when it comes to storytelling – Feline.

Still, four more lessons to go before we begin the show at The Blue Room.  There’s hope.

In fact I’m hoping to get inspired by the fabulous Ira Glass who is in town tonight.  I bought my tickets MONTHS ago and they’ve been pinned to my noticeboard winking at me ever since.

Ira is the host of This American Life, my favourite podcast, in fact I’m listening to it as I type.

He is another fabulous storyteller.

I wonder if I’ll get to meet him?

Should I take my radio to get him to sign it?  My ipod?

A sad little groupie, that’s what I am.

Still it could be worse.

I could be a fan of Justin Beiber. (is that how you spell his name?)

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Close up cactus

Saw the million dollar artwork for Perth yesterday.

Perth train station

Do I love it?

Am I supposed to?

Is that the point of public art?

I’ll give it this much… it stands out.

And I kind of like that about public art.

It can’t always be tasteful and classic… a statue of the great and good… usually a white male.

Oh yes the statue of Sir Charles Court is due to be unveiled soon…

Not that I’ve got anything against Sir Charles.

I danced with him once at the Shinju Matsuri ball in Broome, and I must say he was quite light on his feet.

But we need more than a statue in Forrest Place.

We need a statement.

Does it make a difference that the artist – James Angus – has an impressive resume.

Has his art in several state galleries and collections.

Holds a masters from Yale.

It shouldn’t.

We should take each artwork on its own merits.

We should respond to it, or not, and gauge its value by the strength of the reaction it evokes.

And on that basis, well, this has to be a triumph.

If nothing else, it is certainly a landmark.

Meet you at the cactus next time we’re in Perth.

Your shout.

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ravioli with pumpkin, preserved lemon and sage sauce... yum

I went to dinner at Unraveled last night.

Took some doing.

Mainly because in my head I thought I was trying to book “Entangled”.

Which isn’t a bad name for a pasta restaurant I thought.

Anyhow I couldn’t find a reference to my imagined destination online but I could find the number to the restaurant it used to be – The Twisted Fork – so I rang that number and we were in!

I think they call them selves Unraveled because that is how they present their menu.

You choose the pasta, the protein and the sauce separately.

So many of the sauces sounded delicious.

I tried the mushroom sauce with chicken and saffron linguine – which was a special kind of divine.

And the spinich and ricotta ravioli with pumpkin, preserved lemon and sage was also delicious.

The bread and butter pudding with white chocolate and raspberry – diet starts today!

The service – friendly and prompt.

My one question.

Should you take the sticker off the lime before you serve it?

Yeah.

That’s what I think.

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Drinking shiraz and enjoying the atmos

I discovered a new bar in town last night.

A bar that made me feel like I was in Melbourne.

Maybe it was the street art vibe…

street art

Maybe it was the fact I was out on in Northbridge with friends for the second night in a week.

Ezra Pound was of course a famous American poet at the turn of the previous century – I’m not terribly familiar with his work – a quick read of Wikipedia makes me think he wasn’t all that pleasant a chap – although in his favour he did convince people to publish one of my favourite poets - TS Eliot.

When JJ – the hearing son of deaf parents – agrees to teach Sign to the mysterious Eliza, he embarks on a voyage of discovery that takes him to the outer limits of language, science, nature, ethics – and love.

Happy to be at this bar

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Alison with her newly discovered vagina

So we found the sculpture (pictured above) and now Narelle wants to find Nigel.

Narelle being Alison, or at least Alison when she was 20, and fresh born into the city.

The back story.

The search.

Anyhoo the thing is that Alison is in Sydney this week – and so is the artist that sculpted her veejayjay back in the day and she wants to find him.

She has an mp3 of the story she told at our storytelling sessions and a photograph of… well… herself to give him.

(get your mind out of the gutter – its a photo of the sculpture)

It’s just for old times sake (she is in a relationship at the moment) so she isn’t stalking him or anything.

Promise.

So if you know where the artist is – please let us know!

We have a twitter search going on – have a look on http://twitter.com/cellobella

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red boy

This sculpture was tall… an oversized bright red boy. I liked this one. I would have liked to have seen it in a more prominent position.

Cottesloe Beach

This is the view from the end of the groin back at the beach, now sadly eroded. Usually the beach hangs around until winter… but it has been an unusual summer.

At the end of the groin (excuse the pun)

And this is what was on the end of the groin.

From the other direction

Quite a striking figure but one wonders if better placed at Swanborne…

The kiss (at least that's what I call it)

Loved this one.

Intimacy laughed at

This is one of a series of three – one with a straight face, one smiling and this one laughing.

Talk to the hand(s)

This was a whole bunch of hands on sticks.

Boy and camels

Solid reflections

Loved this one – I think it was a Danish artist.

Her cup overflowth

This was my favourite. She/it is so sexy. I believe another version of this was at Bondi a few years ago.

Man in boat

This one was also sweet. And yes there is water in the boat.

Sand shoes

And you’ve got to have whimsy.

All in all, another enjoyable exhibition. I would like to see another floating sculpture… they are always fun.

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So much grafitti

The late afternoon sun came through the graffiti on the way home yesterday and I really noticed it.

This morning, as I write this on my way to work the glass is gleaming and clear.

The clear glass

What a  difference.

It makes me wonder whether they put some sort of covering on the glass that they can replace occasionally to bring the windows… excuse the pun… up to scratch.

And if not, maybe that would be a solution to a problem all those security guards and cameras don’t seem to be able to solve.

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Generic beach shot because taking out a camera at the nude beach is probably not the done thing

I am doing a storytelling course (Barefaced Stories) at The Blue Room Theatre with Margot Leitman (check out one of her stories on The Moth).

Eight sessions and at the end we will have a polished story.

Each session we have homework.

The first assignment – “do something outside your comfort zone”.

This required some deep thought.

Then I remembered the time Groover and I  - in our 20s when we had hot (ish) bods – stripped off and drove naked down West Coast Highway – at least until the adreniline wore off and we thought about all the what ifs… what if we broke down? What if we get pulled over by a cop? And we quickly scuttled back home.

So I thought okay, let’s up the ante and go for a swim at Perth’s favourite nude beach – luckily not far away – Swanborne – public nudity.

First question… what does one wear to Swanborne because clearly you can’t rock up nude – does one wear bathers?

I decided to wear my bikini, as it seemed appropriate, and with towel and sunblock in hand casually strolled down the beach.

OMG!  There are naked people there!!

First thing I saw from a distance was the silhouette of a man and let me tell you he was hung.

Second question… where do I sit?

I don’t want to sit too close to anyone else but I do want to get the Swanborne experience so I don’t want to sit completely on my own and I don’t want to sit up by the dunes as I figure the creepy guys hang out there perving, so I plonk my stuff down in the middle and undress.

Well that feels a bit weird and as I slide my bikini bottoms off I’m thinking some trimming might have been in order but it’s too late now.

Lying on the beach I’m conscious of what everyone is doing.

People are moving between groups chatting, there’s a very tanned girl to my right doing a job interview on her iPhone, and there are people – clothed people – walking by all the time.

But I can’t lie on the beach forever – for one thing I can’t stay out in the sun too long and for another – well a swim is part of the challenge.

So choosing my moment I stand up and walk into the surf.

The water is cool, the surf a bit dumpy but this is no time to get into the water gingerly.

Before long I am enjoying my swim and getting chatted up by a tanned fellow in his mid forties who turns out to be the pilot of our flight home last Sunday – I kid you not.

Anyway I go back to my towel and air dry.

I notice that I’m possibly one of the younger women on the beach – hard to tell as all the women have VERY dark tans – and also, I’m not that uncomfortable.

And I notice the men – it’s hard not to.

One guy I swear has more metalwork “down there” than the Bunnings tool section.

Another guy has tats all over his body – except “down there” and frankly who can blame him.

There are men of all sizes – and that’s when I realise that actually there are way more men than women.

Why did that surprise me?

I get dressed and get up to go and as I’m leaving the pilot starts chatting to me.

Now that feels a bit weird… chatting to a completely naked man while fully dressed on the beach.

Anyway we chat for a bit and I’m thinking well this will make a great addition to my story when…

Groover walks by!

OMG and I’m chatting to a naked man!

Anyway it takes me a while to catch up with the groovy one because by the time I noticed him he was about 20 metres away and the wind is whipping away my voice and hey, I’m not that fit so running in sand isn’t very fast but eventually I catch up with him and we walk back  and I tell him about my experience and he remembers the pilot’s name and I suggest that he might like to go in for a quick dip.

He (surprisingly) agrees and we have a little swim and then start to get dressed.

Do you want to meet the pilot I ask?

The pilot is now under his umbrella – still nuded up of course – but Groover says no.

I guess meeting a naked man on the beach is outside his comfort zone.

So this is the story I tell at my storytelling class and it goes down quite well.

The next day I decide to go back to the beach – because it was fun, there was quite a nice community feel to it and I was still on a high from the day before but it’s different.

For one thing it is much windier so there are fewer people and there are only two other women.

That friendly community atmosphere has blown away with the wind and what is left feels somewhat seedy.

The pilot is there and comes over to chat but it all feels a bit wrong.

I go home after about 20 minutes and shower.

If I go back – I won’t go alone.

Besides – I had my next assignment to do – ” to stray from my routine”.

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After Tapas

We checked out Gypsy Tapas in Fremantle and you know what?

It was good.

They offer an all you can eat for $40/head option but we were stuffed by plate 11 so I suspect you wouldn’t get great value for the all you can eat option unless you were a real piggy pig.

And we had a couple of bottles of Sav Blanc to wash it down so it wasn’t surprising that we struggled to finish our drinks at the Norfolk some time later…

My drink was left half undrunk... while I on the other hand...

Yeah so that was Gypsy Tapas.

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As you know Groover has been in a play recently called The Beat Goes On by A Lad In Sane productions.

Well, I have a tiny bit of the show so you can see him in action.

Actually you see more of his co-star…

My only excuse is that I got too involved in the play to remember to video later…

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Groover... is Mr Williams in The Beat Goes On

Groover is in another play – The Beat Goes On – which opens this THURSDAY at Camelot Theatre in Mosman Park.

The play is really three one-act plays all, as you might imagine from the title, about police work in the home country.

Groover is in the third of these plays, directed by Sinead Bevan (the co-director of his last play Arsenic and Old Lace) and he plays a nasty piece of work.

Mr Williams is a thug.

He’s been arrested countless times and always seems to get off on a technicality – the police powerless to do anything about it and forced to be polite and over-courteous all the time.

Honestly, practicing his lines with him, I just wanted to slap him!

Still it is quite amusing and thank goodness this time at a theatre closer to home – although he has some performances out at Midland as well.

I’m going both Friday and Saturday nights - hopefully I’ll see you at one of those performances!

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Backstage at a New York Minute

So as you know I have recently been in a play – a wholly improvised play – at Subiaco Arts Centre, and Saturday night’s performance took me back to an audition I had when I was about 15.

15 and NEVER been kissed.

In the audition piece I had to kiss my lover.

WTF

Well having NO experience in the matter – such an innocent – I delivered a rather chaste little kiss on the lips of this much older man.

No no no! Said the director…

Kiss him like you mean it!

Needless to say I didn’t get the part.

Now, you would think, me being much older and more experienced in the way of kissing, if the situation were to happen again I would be fine.

I know what to do right?

Well the other night I watched my fabulous colleague – one who can actually act pucker up and ravish all the leading men – boy can that girl deliver a believable snog.

And she says to her on stage lover that he has to do the same to me.

Maybe I would have been less apprehensive had I no warning.

This poor boy, twenty years younger than me then has to kiss me and I…

!!!

I don’t know what to do.

I am 15 again.

As awkward as a teenager on her first date.

Luckily I have a blue feathered fan to hide behind.

A shame really.

It’s not often one has the legitimate opportunity to snog a young man…

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Courtney Sage Hart is one of the actors in the show I’m in – In a New York Minute, the Spontaneous Insanity production at the Subiaco Arts Centre.

The first three shows are sold out, and there is one extra show on Saturday night (which I am also playing in) at 10pm. Book here.

Anyway I think Courtney has got a brilliant future ahead of him in film making… check out the trailer he made above.

Meanwhile with opening night behind us – we are gearing up for tonight’s show.

I don’t know whether to be scared or excited!

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See the kids! Precious kids!
Yes, their heads are on the chopping block
and someone’s got to dare to take a stand
Can’t ignore any more, it could be your son or daughter
With a deadly stick of reefer in their hand!
They’re heading straight for
Reefer Madness! Reefer Madness! Reefer Madness! Reefer Madness!
Save our kids!

We went to see Reefer Madness on Saturday night down at the Phoenix Theatre.

But before that we had dinner at the Left Bank which was very nice indeed. Generous portions.  If you like steak – a good place to be.  I had the Morroccan lamb which was also very pleasant.

This is the view from the balcony.

The Port of Fremantle from The Left Bank

But I digress…

Reefer Madness – the musical is a 1998 spoof of a propaganda film made in 1938 to scare people about the ills of marijuana.

The production by Blak Yak Theatre has been going for a couple of weeks and Saturday night was the last night.

Phoenix Theatre in Hamilton Hill is charming. You might remember we went to see a play there earlier this year.

I was keen to go because Louisa Fitzhardinge was in the cast – she played the sweet Mary Lane – and she’s also in In A New York Minute with me. (she’s the red head)

It was terrific.  Groover said to me yesterday that if it was still on he’d go again.

Really fun lyrics, great cast, tuneful singing and great hilarity – especially the Jesus scene.  Classic.

Louisa was as expected, simply brilliant – a highlight was her dancing!!!

And her co-star playing Jimmy was also great.

We also loved watching Roisin Bevan who you might remember from Arsenic and Old Lace.

A shame it has finished but a great testament to some of the great community theatre on in Perth at the moment.

The biggest fan (Groover) with Mr Movember and his lady

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“In a New York Minute, everything can change… things can get a little strange” DON HENLEY

I’m in this  Spontaneous Insanity show at the Subiaco Arts Centre and I am out of my comfort zone.

Featuring Libby, Glenn, Louisa and Shane

It is a wholly improvised show, with improvised music and improvised lighting.

Some of the cast with Glenn Hall (centre), the director.

Luckily I completely trust my fellow actors and the director.

It is really exciting to consider long form improvised theatre.

Unlike Theatresports, there are no games and the director gets more involved in the action.

Glenn, Bree and Emmet ham it up for the camera

We’re in the studio at Subiaco Arts Centre. There will be caberet seating – you know… little tables and chairs – and there will be nibbles on each table.

You will be close to the action.

Book here.

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Liz Green performed while we ate.

Saturday night we went out to dinner with some close friends at Harvest in Fremantle.

We chose Harvest because it was in our Entertainment Book (so we got a discount) and it was half way between our houses.

And as a bonus – right next to our table – Liz Green sang for us.

Liz was in Perth as part of the One Movement festival this weekend – now that is cool – having the festival come to you!

Liz is from Manchester and her first song was a capella – impressive.

Groover and the Abstar

The food was very fancy.

I had the beef lasagne for an entree – which was steak tartare with a parmesan crunchy top – it might sound… unusual but it tasted delicious.

I liked my venison sausage and black bean casoulet less but it was still very nice.

Groover had the chicken salad with popcorn – I must say the popcorn put me off ordering this but on tasting it – omg – delicious – and the peas tasted fresh from the garden.

That's me and the Evstar

We’re loving the Entertainment book – definitely got my money’s worth – and will probably get one next year too.

Plus you’re encouraged to try new places.

Win win.

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The gorgeous Peggy!

Friday night, Groover and I went back to the Art Gallery for the Opening of the Penny Guggenheim Exhibition.

This is from her collection in Venice.

Ahhhh Venice – so romantic, so beautiful.

I went twice to this collection in Venice when we were there in 2005 – and we were only there for a day – so I was looking forward to seeing how it travelled.

What a delight to see our good friend acting as Peggy Guggenheim – although she shaved her legs and apparently Peggy didn’t… maybe people didn’t in the 30s so – we’ll overlook it – you might remember her from Theatresports earlier in the year.

Me and Miss Peggy

It is a stunning collection of modern art – all the big names – extraordinary to see the work which still looks modern even though some of it is nearly 100 years old.

A Jackson Pollock which is figurative!  Who knew?  (probably all of you)

Go and see it – it is on until the end of January and is only coming to Perth… hey that’s closer than Venice.

That’s the advantage of having a Gallery Director who was born in Venice and is married to a former intern of the Peggy Guggenheim collection.

(Oh that Italian accent!  Mamma mia!!)

Afterwards, with 15 minutes to wait until the train we sat and talked in the organic garden just outside the gallery.

Groovy Groover

I just wanted to show you more of my frock.

Unfortunately we got so into playing with the slow synchro mode on my camera that we missed our train.

So we decided to wait the next HALF AN HOUR in the station.

That's not our train.

We love catching the train at night - it feels so cosmopolitan.

So that was Friday night.

On the way home the security guards found two passengers next to us without tickets.

They took their names and addresses but before they had time to check (over the phone to who knows?) the girl had walked off – hey this is my station… see ya!

They had no power to stop her and who knows if she gave her real name – although she was warned that it is an offence to give a false one.

Seems a rather inefficient system to me but what do you do?

Microchip everyone?

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• Through the glass

Yes that would be us.

You would have seen us swilling Sav blanc… or was it Voigner… whatever – it was wet, white and in a glass and it went down easily with the best of the Western Suburbs at this year’s Opening Night party for Art in Bloom at the Art Gallery of Western Australia.

Early on in the evening...

It’s a great event.

Top wine, great clothes, fabulous company dahling oh… and of course the exhibition itself which is spectacular.

For the unitiated, Art in Bloom is where florists and artists from Perth are invited to create a floral display to complement an artwork from the Art Gallery of Western Australia.

The event happens every two years and is a big fundraiser for the gallery.

And it is beautiful.

I love seeing the different interpretations… it makes you see the art in new ways.

And some of the floral tributes are incredible.

Of course it is rare for a museum to allow things like plant matter into its hallowed halls.

Imagine!

There might be bugs crawling in them there roses… but somehow the exhibition has run ten times without damage to irreplaceable artwork.

One of the artists responsible for the floral art on the night.

Of course quite a bit of wine was consumed and I confess I didn’t spend a lot of time appreciating the art. 

This is a friend of mine from work who did a fantastic piece – incredibly complicated and impressive I thought – he said he had had to compromise but I couldn’t see where. (btw he is not pictured in front of his work)

Stunning.

Then there were those pieces that encouraged audience participation…

Groover gets interactive

Goodness knows why he is looking so serious… I’m not sure how critical the placement of the carnation was…

At 9.30pm on the dot the lights came on and we were all encouraged to leave but luckily the head of the organising committee is a dear friend and invited us (or did we invite ourselves… it’s a little hazy) to the after party where I had a lovely conversation with the wife of the head curator.

She was charming.

Afterwards, teetering on my high heels, we weaved our way through the underground bowels of the art gallery and found ourselves in the carpark.

A lovely night, a not so lovely hangover.

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Following my last post, after two days in Sydney I can no longer fit into my daughter’s size 5 jeans (size 5 is about a 9 in real language).

A pork roll from James’s favourite cheap lunch spot.

Lasagne!

At least I have avoided all the yummy pastries from the (count them) five gorgeous bakeries that surround our hotel.

The food in Sydney is cheap and delicious and so difficult to not eat.

The first night we went to a little Vietnamese place in Surry Hills (or was it Darlinghurst) called Phamish.

They started serving at 6pm and there was a queue waiting to be seated (including us).

The highlight – the to-die-for duck and prawn rolls – watching mum eat one and then realise they had prawns in them was priceless.

We’ve also gone to see Wicked – the musical.

Clever story, great music and amazing set and costumes.

We had a brilliant time.

Last night I went with my sister to the Cinema Verona to see an Italian film called I am Love – starring Tilda Swinton.

The Italians have a very different approach to film making – lots of loud crashing music and close ups.

Good film though.

And walking down Oxford St late at night was fun too.

Today… I’m not sure what we’re doing… something touristy before the exhibition opening probably.

Then drinkies and art.

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