Eastern Suburbs Art Group

I picked up Mic and Virginia and drove out to Parramatta on Monday night for a reading. Danny Gardner introduced a new segment where the audience has to pick whether the reader is telling the truth or not and it went off well, everyone got involved. I also Met Paul out there he'd come on his own steam. One of the poets Devina Bedford (above) gave us a performance of her witty poems, many of which rhyme. It was her 'Current Affairs' routine with politics the main subject. Alan Joyce got a roasting. Also on the schedule was Bhol Kumar Dhamala (above) who recited poems and gave us a performance on his flute. Bhol got us all together for a group shot so he could take it back to his country and Devina jumped in to nab a selfie (see above). It was a great night but my enthusiasm was dampened when i discovered that the motorway was closed on the way back to town. After a missed turning we got back to the main road without mishap.

It was a big group on Thurs in Petersham at the bowling club (the one that’s been in the news because it doesn’t have pokies, that one) and the readings were themed by the idea of Ireland. I read ‘Orion’ and funnily enough another person had the idea to use a poem named after stars, perhaps there’s something about the Irish that inspires people this way. We had to drag the tables together because there were so many people, but most of us fit once the arrangements were made. Standing in the photo is Luke who used his recorder to play some tunes, and we also had singing from another participant. I got home without mishap leaving early because of the noise (will see dr today for my ear).

Despite an incipient panic attack I made it out to Parramatta last night for WestWords a poetry reading and read out two poems including one about my aunt who died. The event was in honour of a poet who had passed away so I tried to be topical. The trip was timely for another reason (see photo below) as I’d been contacted on Facebook Marketplace about a photo I had in my garage by Philip Plisson. It’s a striking image and the buyer lives out in the north-west so Parramatta was handy for both of us to meet and to do the transaction. I parked in Hunter St and met him so he could put it in his car. Willem Tibben is the name of the man who died and after the evening of readings I feel like I know him a little better. Regrettably I forgot in my haste to leave home to bring a bag with paintings I’d done to show the organisers and attendees. It was an interesting evening and I got home about 10pm or thereabouts so in time to watch a little bit of some idiotic crime drama, it was American and ...

I jumped in the car to go to Petersham Bowlo for a poets reading on Thursday evening after hanging the living room wall with different works (see photo below). At the bowling club there was a good turnout of regulars as well as some visitors, I showed them the ‘CAPitalism’ series as well as the ‘Shipwreck’ series which I’d brought along in my bag. When it was my turn to read I read out ‘Mourning raiments for J* H*’ a sonnet about a mother who’s son had killed himself. The choice was apposite as the group were remembering a man who was a regular and who had died in hospital. One man at the event was giving away ‘Trad & Now’ magazine copies I took mine home and had a look at it the next day it’s all about folk music and that scene but he said they also take political poetry, so I emailed them. No reply by 18 Feb possibly my email had gone to the spam folder in their client software.

Last meeting of the year at Petersham Bowlo meant that a group shot was called for (see below, photographer was a stranger named Benjamin). That was at the end of the evening, before which people got up to read their creations, some of which was expressive of dissatisfaction with the status quo. Like mine, ‘Sixpence’, a sonnet about Donald Trump written initially in September 2020 before the storming of the Bastille. Thanks for the photo to Devina who read out an autobiographical poem about her year, a year of various illnesses including Covid.  One of the people who read out on this night had just popped into the Bowlo by chance and later asked about future events. Danny Gardner who organises Don Bank Museum readings told me a little about next year’s schedule. And I spoke with Chris and John about probability in science. In all it was a night productive of thought.

Stunned and a little dazed I left Sydney Modern after touring the facilities on Saturday 3 Dec. It’s so enormous it’s a bit like being in the new Istanbul Airport. Room after room of big, beautiful works. I’m astonished at the Art Gallery of New South Wales’ collection, parts of which of course have been in storage unseen. When I got to the gallery to check in with the ticket in my phone I was sure I’d be told to wait as my allocated time hadn’t yet been reached, but the place is soooooo big they could’ve held twice as many patrons concurrently without trouble. With a nod to the Japanese architects we even saw people (see above) who seemed to be dressed as Buddhist monks. The new building reminds me of nothing so much as the National Library of Australia with its Internationalist style, or else a good bit of mimicry in that vein. The clean lines and minimal detail said “1960s” to my eye. And what could be more Sydney (see above) than a view of the water? I popped back inside when artis...

I jumped on the bus at Railway Square and was deposited in north Newtown so I could walk to Laerk Space to see the Christmas show. Outside on a street sign I already saw some art, and I took it as an omen. Inside, I didn’t have much time to look around but nevertheless took everything in, particularly savouring a pair of little collages by Wayne Hutchins (see pic below). I then got on a bus and scooted down to Broadway to Shepherd Street where in a small bar on the corner of Knox Street a poetry reading supported by Macquarie University was held. Gareth Jenkins (see pic below) opened proceedings but it was a diverse set of performers who delivered fun and fascination for all. There was even an open mic when Devina Bedford read out a funny (can it be?) Covid poem. Well worth the $27 door fee. To keep body and soul together I had a Diet Coke from the bar but others were drinking alcohol (which I gave up 3 years ago) and the vibe was effervescent.

With a themed night of poetry readings supplied by attendees I completely forgot in preparation and took along something unrelated to New Orleans. Nobody seemed to mind and I had some comments, one woman even wanted to read the poem on paper and I obliged during the supper. Bee and Alan sang and played before Roberta Lowing (see photo) performed by reading out one long poem and several shorter ones from a recent book of hers. The theme of New Orleans seemed appropriate for the times because while the earth is warming we seem collectively to be intent on enjoying ourselves at all costs. Perhaps next time I’ll stick to the script and fit in, as it was I read out ‘It’s a living thing’ from ‘The Words to Say’, a collection of sonnets I put together during Covid.

With Virginia I went to Petersham Bowlo for a poetry reading yesterday, she knows Alan Jeffries who was the featured artist. His reading without page or screen was impressive, he’s been doing it for a long time and is very accomplished. I particularly enjoyed his poems for a woman in his life which were affecting and tender. John (pictured) was one of the poets in the open mic session that started the evening and he made some interesting comparisons between life and airport transit lounges. Luke Weyland who I’d met at another reading got up and read a poem about Y2K and when the interval arrived we talked about those long-gone days of worry and shared purpose. If you lived through the nineties (as both Luke and I had done) you must remember the general discussion about what the future might hold once the clock ticked past 2000. Nobody predicted the Twin Towers. On the night my dire predictions about bad traffic were happily unrealised, it was not too bad getting to the venue despite it...

It was a busy evening at Sydney Poetry Lounge, the room full of spectators who got to listen to a range of poetry. Different people different styles. One of the people I was there with (Anthony) is a doctor so when a woman got up to read out a poem that was anti-vaxx he shuddered and spoke. The poets mastered the sound system after an inaudible start, but once they regulated the distance between the mouth and the mic it was guns away! A healthy crowd at poetry Lounge Anna Hueneke recited and sang her masterful songs based on Biblical precedents, the melody transporting me back centuries making me wonder at the world. I didn’t understand the songs because they’re written in Hebrew but I got the emotion embodied in them. It was the last Poetry Lounge of the year and the organisers did a great job making it happen it was worth the $10 entry fee. The effort required to make this type of event happen is considerable but the attendance last night made me think that it’s appreciated.

Busy day because I bought a print at Hego’s show at Luna Studio in Newtown so had to carry it home fearing rain. I was initially going to travel by bus from Newtown to Double Bay but glad I didn’t as there’re not many buses home to Edgecliff Station late at night. This is me and Hego at his show, he didn’t want his face to compete with the paintings, which are lovely. The line is strange and the proportions are sometimes “fucked up” (his words) but I would say this is great art. At Woollahra Gallery it was a full fun evening with Eliza Scott on first singing with the aid of her equipment, where she would record short bursts of voice to be set on replay so she could sing over the top of it. Next up was Natalie Napoleon from Perth, a treat as far from home. The poetry riveting the small audience to their seats, full of mystery and surprise. There was an open mic tho I didn’t participate I had my phone ready to go with a sonnet but decided in the end that the evening’s entertainment had b...

I went to Kinsela’s for the launch of a new biography about Sasha Soldatow, a late luminary of Sydney’s literary scene.  Unlike most of the people there I didn’t know Soldatow but still I enjoyed listening to bestselling author Christos Tsiolkas reminisce. Jonny Hawkins performed some of Soldatow’s provocative and thoughtful poems. Afterward I made my way to another part of Surry Hills and to the Hollywood Hotel for a series of performances featuring “intimacy in the poetry of five women” under the rubric ‘Fashions for Living’ , where people read and recited their poetry with verve and laughter. 

Wasted a trip in the car when I went to Sappho Bookshop for a poetry night and was asked to leave because I didn’t want to buy food or a drink. “Make sure you order something,” the waitress said to me as I sat waiting for the readings to start. I’d gotten there good and early in preparation for the readings, and the guy who sat down with a beer at the table next to me said he’d tried to register for the open mic but hadn’t been successful as it’d filled up in 10 minutes. He knew what he was doing and had bought a Kirin. I don’t drink alcohol and coffee was out of the question. The waitress suggested with her voice that I was doing something illegal or at least bad-mannered by wanting only to listen to poetry. It reminded me of how when Simon and I’d gone to the National Art School to build interest in the group it’d been impossible to talk about art and doing art because of all the staff hanging around watching people. It seems as though the cash nexus has completely overtaken the arts...

For our sins the trains weren’t running when we left Don Bank Museum at the end of the night’s entertainment so we had to get on a bus which took us in a figure-eight to get to the bridge and back to the city. It was a memorable evening with Louise Wakeling (see photo) headlining a selection of poets and songwriters each of whom had a unique approach to their art. When I arrived with poems in my pocket to read I didn’t forcefully enough approach the convenor, so when the open section ended I still hadn’t delivered any of them. Later, after the main act, I got up to read ‘Expression’, a sonnet written mainly in December 2013. For me it’d been almost 15 years since I’d read anything in public like this and I felt tentative and like something just emerged from a chrysalis. I met Devina by surprise when I arrived at the old 19th century cottage Poets was held at, and we talked with Simon who’d come with a poem of his own to read, which was funny and wise. A good night.