Bogong- Final week of residency

“Nowhere else have I ever felt the subtle magnetism of an ancient land that holds dreams far, far older than history” Elyne Mitchell

The seasons have changed whilst up here. And nearly at the Autumn equinox the leaves are falling and the skies are shifting. The smell of the forest is sweet and fresh and clean.  We had some strong rains and the creeks are running high and the lake is full. It is certainly a change after so much heat. The small birds are hopping in glee, and the spiders are finding dry places to be (preferably outside!).

It is now towards the end of the second week and creative ideas are being dreamed, formed and explored. One of my favourite poets of my childhood was Judith Wright. I have been hearing her words whilst up here and reading more of her poetry that seems to augment the area. Her crystal clear Australian voice is one of the mountains.

“Voice from the hills and the river drunken with rain,

for your lament the long night was too brief."

Memories of time and space flood in. It was when I was ten years old that I learnt of the snowy hydro scheme. A vivid memory of Geography class at primary school. It didn’t mention anything about the destruction of the landscape, only the success in harnessing energy. Together with these old memories, it has been been melding with my current landscape: The sparkly new with the ancient, and the not so new with the recent past. The memory too of driving solo, some fifteen years ago, from Mitta-Mitta to Omeo has surfaced brightly: in hindsight an initiation of sorts through these mountains.

 

The Aboriginals named almost every Rocky Peak ‘Bogong’. It is wonderful to know that this area was an important and sacred area for ritual and initiation,

I learnt of the indigenous baking Bogong Moths into cake, rich in fat and protein after they had pounded the moth’s bodies into a paste. I have to say that I prefer the cakes I have made whist here: dates, banana and apple. Perhaps that is for a trial another time when the Moths are here in the area.

Here in the mountains, there is a different quality of space and time. Of breath and voice. Moments transpose time and there is such beauty in the ephemerality of the landscape. I have enjoyed the process of recording my voice with the forest sounds.  

With thanks and gratitude to the Bogong Centre for Sound Culture, for the privilege of having a two week artist in residence as part of the upcoming festival in April 2017, Phantasmagoria.

Bogong- Week 2

Days in Bogong are filled with being: dreaming, walking, listening and wondering. New ear-perspectives are being highlighted throughout the environs; new knowledge of how to record and structure sound is being learnt.

For me, there is a translation that occurs between Nature and Self, Body and Voice, Land and Sounds. I am looking for ways to record this: to be able to capture the ethereal reality of the dreamscape and physicalize it into “reality”.

The birds are gloriously vocal here. They chirp and tweet and herald the dusk and the dawn. They inspire me to make sounds far across the gullies. To use vowel sounds and open the vocal channel and sing with them: To be in harmony with them.

A few weeks back, I was awoken one morning by the repetition of ‘Solomon….Solomon….Solomon….’ The reverie holding the word for me to further day dream on.  I investigated the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon. Solomon the Wise was a great Magician: he knew the language of the birds. “He understood the language of the Should and the inner voice of Intuition” Mark Starvish. In every indigenous culture they speak of their relationship to birds:  Ravens were known to guide the North American Indians to food. The language of the birds is a divine and mythical language. For me, it is a strong reminder to look deeper internally for signs and signals and follow the voice of intuition throughout the day.

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep

In the next valley-glades:

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

John Keats. Ode on a Nightingale.

The morning misty clouds on Sunday morning sparked onto a delightfully hot and humid day. The clouds were in perfect formation (see Photo 2). An inspiration of the whispiness of the wind carrying its visually formed breath, and the fleeting nature of Nature. Again a beautiful reminder of the beauty of Nature, and how quickly the mountains can change.

With thanks and gratitude to the Bogong Centre for Sound Culture, for the privilege of having a two week artist in residence as part of the upcoming festival in April 2017, Phantasmagoria.

Bogong- Week 1- 11th March 2016

Sweltering heat greeted me on the mountain when I arrived. A heralding. A signaling that called me to the mountain. The first few days have been an exploration of this beautiful area: the lake, the junction dam, the rivers and rivulets, and the village. Bird song, Coo-ees, flora and fauna have been a part of my world here. As well as mountain grasshoppers, symbolic of creative inspiration, scurry along the lake path. My senses are somewhat heightened with clean air and fresh scents as well as sounds that careen across the mountain walls.

Since being here, I have been  wondering about the women who were integral to the running of the village. Especially in light of International Women’s Day this week. One woman, who stood out to me, was Miss Pearl Haynes: She sounded like an incredibly bright and esteemed woman in the Village. She was an avid hiker and fisherwoman and was a “great organiser”. Dear Pearl had a speech impairment, and it saddened me that this was described as a “failing”.

The land has a poetic feel to it, and much of the area is majestic and divine. A trip to the Rocky Dam past falls creek (Photo) highlighted again the majesty as well as the magic in changing perspectives. Perched high upon the mountain top, I find clarity and new inspiration. A new breath.

“I know it dark against the stars, the high lean country, full of old stories that still go walking in my sleep” South of my Days, Judith Wright.

I am yet to know many of the stories of Bogong and surrounds. But I am ready and listening.

With thanks and gratitude to the Bogong Centre for Sound Culture, for the privilege of having a two week artist in residence as part of the upcoming festival in April 2017, Phantasmagoria.