Decades ago I made some images to accompany a friend's suite of small poems that were to be published. As far as I know this did not eventuate, but I often have cause to recall the proposed title : A day for little things, no doubt, but who would dare despise it? (Zechariah 3:1-4:14)
This morning I had that feeling. First, over breakfast, delight at a selection of old advertising blotters and trade cards that arrived in the mail. Then the delivery of something larger by the parcels postman. As he handed it across he added what a good and friendly night it had been at Petrus's birthday party (see previous blog). This time we got to talking. His name is R. He does drawings too, always has, and still hopes 'to take it further someday'. He asked if I knew G, another of the local posties. I do. G had lent him a DVD about the sculptor Bernini. Extraordinary artist, Bernini, we agreed. The parcel was a copy of Melbourne's un Magazine sent by K. What topped the lot was the unnecessary, therefore special, extra layer of inside wrapping. Sheets of bright colour patched together for mere pleasure's sake.
A Person Looks At A work Of Art/
someone looks at something . . .