Look Up! Look Up!

When his mother watched this footage in New Zealand, she called to the television screen: “Look up! Look up!” She later told me that she was so disappointed that she could not see the eyes of her loving son whom she missed so much…

When I actually watched it many years later I asked him: “Why didn’t you look up at the camera?” He told me that he felt quite emotionally affected reading that statement regarding the tragedy, even though he did not vote for Harold Holt.

He had passed away two and half years ago and I could still hear his voice so strongly.


As It Happens…

Being sick with a bad dose of cold or flu is not at all what I need at the moment but sick I am. While nursing my cold with hot soup and herbal tea, I am trying hard not to self-pity for there is no one to hear me complaining, although deep down in my heart there is a longing for the time past when there was one faithful person so dear and so near who would have nursed me through any illness so tenderly.

Feeling lethargic, I am content to stay indoors but too tired to even hold the paintbrush let alone thinking of what to paint yet so many images passing through my head but capturing them is quite impossible.

What to read? My head and eyes are heavy with a cold that is hard to concentrate on any book. From an old radio the music of ABC classic FM help soothing the discomfort as I sit on my worn armchair staring out through the large sliding window at my little backyard, finding my heart sings with the loving memory of when he built this garden for me: humble in size yet rich in the effort of how it tried to survive through the last few years.

*“… Power sows in the depths of my heart, and I reap and gather in the grain, bestowing it lavishly upon the starving. Spirit revives this small vine, and I crush its bunches of grapes and pour out the juice for the thirsty…….. Human beings cling to matter that is as cold as snow whereas I seek the flame of love so that I might place it in my breast, where it will devour my ribs and destroy my insides, For I have discovered that matter kills painlessly, but love revives us through torments…”

I open my eyes and wondering where I am or what time of the day it is? Oh yes, I am having a bad cold and my head is spinning…

*(Vision from Kahlil Gibran)


Acrylic on canvas

“…And dreams in their development have breath

And tears, tortures and the touch of joy

They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts

They take the weight from off waking toils

They do divide our being; they become

A portion of ourselves as of our time

And look like heralds of eternity…”

(From a poem by Lord Byron)

At Sunset

To-night the west o’er-brims with warmest dyes; 
Its chalice overflows 
With pools of purple colouring the skies, 
Aflood with gold and rose; 
And some hot soul seems throbbing close to mine, 
As sinks the sun within that world of wine.

And twilight comes with grey and restful eyes,
As ashes follow flame.
But O! I heard a voice from those rich skies
Call tenderly my name;
It was as if some priestly fingers stole
In benedictions o’er my lonely soul.

From a poem by Pauline Johnson

Sunset on Chelsea beach

Le Réveil Du Printemps

A stroll around the neighbourhood and I found these beautiful blooms. It’s a promise that the warmer weather will soon arrive. Although the fresh chill air is still in the wind, in the sunshine one could not help but feel bright and blossoming as if the flowers across the fence turned and smiled at me.

Making my way across the dune and down to the beach, the sea sparkled like diamonds floating on the water of cobalt blue while the cerulean sky shined above. And in the spring of the year… feel my joy where ever you are.

Above Flinders

“… Here about the beach I wandered, nourishing a youth sublime – with the fairy tales of science, and the longest result of time; When the century behind me like a fruitful land reposed; When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed: When I dipped into the future far as human eye could see; Saw the vision of the world and all the wonder that would be…”

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

“Above Flinders” Oil on canvas

Hope Of Spring


“…By the seashore lie wild sweet peas, pink, blue and purple weaved like Irish lace, the sweetest bloom of the day. Though I have no poet’s conviction but only colours wash on paper. Hoping to capture a few moments of your dreams in the sunshine. For a new day is dawning and here is with love just for you…”