(Temporary) Abandonment.

{A secret that proved harder by night to protect. Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Delaying all action for now. Collage, Gracia Haby.}

Feeling unloved and stung by those bitter feelings of rejection, this blog has decided to take a nap in vain hope that its owners three will come back to it. It is prone to useless bouts of pining and that is not all that becoming in public. So until they return it will nap, seeking to tap into their collective thick vein of longing and turn it to own advantage. It will give every appearance of being stoic. It will try to lure them back with silence for it knows they have a peep of chickens and a flight of goshawks to share… some day.

X

A spring of seals and other details.

{A sneak of weasels and a bed of flowers. Collage, Gracia Haby.}

Thank you one and all for your interest in my recent zine inspired by the oft-whimsical nature of collective nouns. Postal orders for copies of A vagary of impediments and a sneak of weasels have been sent to destinations I myself have yet to visit in person. To Simons Town, South Africa, to Bristol, UK, and to Pittsburgh, USA, I have sent a configuration of natural objects and a catch of fish whilst strings of horses and crowds of onlookers snaked pathway to Prairieville, Helensvale, and Belmont. I very much hope you enjoyed this zine and my fingers remain crossed in hope that the troop of monkeys behaved themselves for such rabble-rousers they can be.

Here, before Elaine, Louise and I resume our regular posting in this space, accompanied by special guests from time to time, is a look at a few more of the collages that feature in this zine.


{A clutter of cats. Collage, Gracia Haby. (Please click to see a little larger.)}


{A spring of seals. Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{A band of men. Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{A cache of jewels and an embarrassment of riches. Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{A colony of auks and a parcel of penguins. Collage, Gracia Haby.}

A vagary of impediments and a sneak of weasels can be purchased through our online store, or, for those in Melbourne, head to Hand Held Gallery and Sticky Institute and pick up a copy in person.

Should you harbour a desire for us to explore a favourite collective noun, now would be the time to sing out. A rope of onions, a streak of tigers, or perhaps a nest of rumours, a disguising of tailors or a leash of greyhounds, we shall consider them all.

Returning soon with a grove of trees and a quiver of arrows.

Until then, my friends, be well.
G

A vagary of impediments & a sneak of weasels.

{A string of horses. Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{A ticktock of clocks. Collage, Gracia Haby.}

Revealed from under cloak at Sunday’s zine fair (as part of this year’s Emerging Writers’ Festival), four new zines by Louise and me. One, in particular, might be of interest to those of you who read A skulk of foxes and a husk of hares for it features collective nouns en masse, huddled together in all their collective glory. A vagary of impediments and a sneak of weasels is a zine, and a long one at that.
At 52 pages in length, it features 24 new collages inspired by my ongoing fascination with a count noun that denotes a group of individuals. An anthology of stories, a Durante of toucans, a diligence of messengers, a configuration of natural objects and a troop of monkeys, these and similar all feature in a zine that lists 140 favourites.

{An anthology of stories. Collage, Gracia Haby.}

{A department of deer and a gang of elk. Collage, Gracia Haby.}
You can lay claim to a copy of this zine here. The first five orders will receive a copy of Louise's charming new zine Tweak, Tweaked, Tweet.
(Glean more here and here.)
Alternatively, you can pop into either Sticky or Hand Held Gallery (for those who live in Melbourne) and pick up a copy in person.

Tumbling down. Best catch them quick.

{Tumble and fall (IX). Collage, Gracia Haby.}

Perhaps remiss not to have mentioned sooner that Tumble & Fall, a recent zine for the month of May, features twelve star collages originally seen here not all that long ago. Tumble & Fall, is a 17 page full colour zine with a peacock-blue cover and natty black spine, and includes four night sky black linen-paper pages replete with hand-cut smattering of stars.

For those Melbourne based, a few copies of this zine (an edition of 60) remain and shall be available at our stall as part of Sunday’s The Page Parlour (Emerging Writers' Festival).

The Page Parlour
The Atrium
Federation Square

Sunday 31st May, 2009
12pm–5pm

Tumble & Fall is also available here, thorough our online store.


{Tumble and fall (VIII). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Tumble and fall (XI). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Tumble and fall (VII). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Tumble and fall (II). Collage, Gracia Haby.}

Tumble & Fall travels,
Stars travel far
They really do
Zine crush
Par avion
Tumbled & fell
People who make things with love
Falling stars
I made a wish
(Thank you for sharing.)

(I am currently working on a 52 page zine about collective nouns and shall post the details shortly. Collating such a zine is proving a monstrous task.)

A kaleidoscope of butterflies.

 
{We all of us have wings (I). Gracia Haby. (Please click to see this larger.)}


{We all of us have wings (II). Collage, Gracia Haby.}

Do you remember those toys consisting of a cylinder containing mirrors and pieces of colored glass or paper; those magical kaleidoscopes, with their reflections capable of orchestrating many changing patterns visible only through a small eyehole? Rotate and watch the charm unfurl, a kaleidoscope of wings, patterns and coloured forms tumbling. Today we have gathered for you such an assembly. We have assembled a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

Joined this time by Jurate (Greville St Bookstore) with her magical butterflies and equally magical words, we hope you enjoy a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

From Jurate,

Some butterflies are cannibals.

Some butterflies are spirits of the dead.

Prillwitzia hymenaea of the Family Ithomiidae moves secretly through the rainforest undergrowth of Brazil, wings as transparent as glass. Almost undetectable in dim light, virtual invisibility ensures survival.

In the humming jungle silence, the caterpillar eats a channel through the leaf of the deadly nightshade, grows fat and round on poison. Toxic chemicals accumulate in its tissues. A bird or a lizard dares to pluck it from the leaf, and dies. A warning. The caterpillar becomes a butterfly, poison-butterfly. Predators learn to recognise and avoid a deadly prey.

Thin shafts of sun spot the forest floor, catch a glint of glass transparent wings. Careless butterfly. Avoid the light. Dart in shadows.

Some species devastate crops and gardens, and must be exterminated.

Some species are dangerous and must be exterminated.

Collecting method: a trap is baited with rotting fruit, animal dung or other odoriferous material… The bait is set. An inverted net is suspended two inches above the ground. The butterfly must crawl under its rim to reach the bait. When finished feeding, the butterfly flies upwards and entraps itself in the closed end of the net. Entraps itself. Careless butterfly.

Lepidopterist, Alexander Klots, reports seeing hundreds of butterflies gathered on the decomposing remains of a small crocodile, on the banks of an Amazon tributary. Long tongues penetrate the flesh, sip the juices from the rotting flesh, absorb essential amino acids and nitrogen containing substances.

The butterfly could not stand the hunting pressure. After fifty years of intensive collection, the butterfly was no longer to be seen, except in specimen cabinets. Examples of an extinct species, safely pinned, boxed and labelled.

The butterfly could not stand the hunting pressure.

J.S.

(Extracts from Some Butterflies are Cannibals by Jurate Sasnaitis. First published in Angry Women: An Anthology of Australian Women’s Writing, Hale & Iremonger, 1989.)
















{A rainbow of butterflies. Eight digital kaleidoscopes, Jurate Sasnaitis}


{My Butterfly's,  found in Berry's Antique shop in the 1970's for $14, Flinders Lane, Melbourne. Pen and pencil drawing, Elaine Haby.}


{Butterflies fly by day. Watercolour and pencil drawing, Louise Jennison.}


{In search of nectar. Watercolour and pencil drawing, Louise Jennison.}


{We all of us have wings (III). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{We all of us have wings (IV). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{We all of us have wings (V). Collage, Gracia Haby.}

Until next time, friends.

A galaxy of stars.

{A galaxy of stars to wear around your neck. Watercolour and pencil drawing, Louise Jennison.}

We three have been out catching stars as they tumble from sky to ground. It’s proving busy work thus far and a sea of paper stars litter both tabletop and carpet below.

Here is what we have managed to catch for you this Monday afternoon.

From Elaine,
I’m not saying they didn’t have their share of beauty and ego but in a time when stars were stars, pre botox and liposuction – those were the years!

These are my stars:  Paul Newman (1956), Humphrey Bogart (1952), Fred Astaire (1956), Ava Gardner (1959), Cary Grant (1956), Tyrone Power (1952), Marlene Dietrich (1951), Bette Davis (1952), Elizabeth Taylor (1956).

E.H.


{Some did wear elevator shoes. Pencil drawing, Elaine Haby.}


{...and maybe a 'little plastics'. Pencil drawing, Elaine Haby.}

{Maybe just a little artifice. Pencil drawing, Elaine Haby.}


{Tumble and fall (I). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Tumble and fall (II). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Tumble and fall (III). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Tumble and fall (IV). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Tumble and fall (V). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Tumble and fall (VI). Collage, Gracia Haby.}

Now that we have collected our stars and wished upon them, our eyes and hearts are set upon capturing for you a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

A colony of fungi.

{A cover of The American Girl (1935) sports a forlorn frog seated atop a mushroom.}

Of mushrooms I know they are good for the sitting upon (if one is tiny and an inhabitant of some fairy kingdom); they are tasty when cooked, or so I am told; and a great many of them are poisonous: Agrippina poisoned her Caesar Claudius with a mushroom empoisoned "knowing that he was greedy of such meats” and Emperor Charles VI was apparently so fond of fungi “that he forbade their use in his States lest there should be a shortage”.  It is also said, that endless wild dancing ensues if you step into a circle of mushrooms in a lush and grassy area (according to English folklore). Some may see this as an area marking the periphery of perennial underground mycelial growth but others see it for what it is, a fairy ring of the fairy realm.

But you can tread easily here, friends, for we have neither fairy rings nor poisonous fungi. Instead we have gathered and arranged for you drawings, photographs and collages in celebration of a colony of not rats this time but fungi.

And this time around, Shari joins us.


{A colony of fungi. Photograph, Shari.}


{A colony of fungi. Photograph, Shari.}


{Any new arrivals at the colony were a bit of concern to the 'Old Colonialists'. Pen and pencil drawing, Elaine Haby.}


{Mushrooms sprout underfoot, (I). Watercolour and pencil drawing, Louise Jennison.}


{Mushrooms sprout underfoot, (II). Watercolour and pencil drawing, Louise Jennison.}


{Mushrooms sprout underfoot, (III). Watercolour and pencil drawing, Louise Jennison.}


{Mushrooms sprout underfoot, (IV). Watercolour and pencil drawing, Louise Jennison.}

In the legendary arms of Ruth St. Denis (1879-1968) I have placed a precariously stacked colony of fungi. (I am hoping I have not selected any poisonous fungi; this was not my intention.) I doubt there is any correlation between Ruth and mushrooms, toadstools, call them what you will; from what I have read, Egypt and her goddess Isis (sighted on a poster for Egyptian Deities cigarettes), and later all things Indian, were where her interests lay.


{Ruth St. Denis was capable of making every little thing appear effortlessly graceful (I). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Ruth St. Denis was capable of making every little thing appear effortlessly graceful (II). Collage, Gracia Haby.}


{Ruth St. Denis was capable of making every little thing appear effortlessly graceful (III). Collage, Gracia Haby.}

Mushrooms come on Polish sewing labels, too. They don't come on hotel stickers.

Next time? We'll bring you a galaxy of stars, should you be lucky.