Bushwhacking and Clarke & Wolseley

For me these two sessions go together. There is a fair bit of cross pollination happening, with the bush the central inspiration for the two books by Watson and McDonald, and for the John Wolseley exhibition, which the Clarke & Wolseley talk was based on.

Don Watson and Roger McDonald talked about writing, inspiration and their 90-odd year old mothers, still baking scones and sponges for afternoon tea visitors. Both authors have reviewed and admired each others work, there was a palpable mutual respect at this session.

John Clarke and John Wolseley have a close friendship. This was "Two old mates having a yarn." There was no moderator at this session, just the two Johns talking to us, talking to each other, about painting, photography, satire and, of course about the bush.

John Wolseley is an Englishman. He came to Australia as an adult, and perhaps this is why he is filled with wonder about the landscape. He paints wildlife and landscape, and the bush becomes collaborator in some of the methods he uses. Abandoning a piece of paper in a charred landscape and letting the coal and the wind do some drawing before he elaborates on it, printing with the corpse of an albatross, or using frottage to document a woodworm's life cycle are just some examples of this.

John Clarke loves to photograph wildlife and landscape. Especially birds. He visits the bush regularly, often spending time with JW when he's in the country. Clarke was almost bashful about his photographs, but Wolseley's enthusiasm for them was contagious.Wolseley and Clarke observe the Landscape, they are in it and they 'collaborate' with it, documenting the wildlife and changes in the landscape. Clarke's photos and Wolseley's drawings of birds are stunning in their detail.

Watson and McDonald come from Australian farming stock. They have a slightly different perspective to Wolseley and Clarke when it come to the bush. They talked about the spirit of resilience, a certain toughness that is needed when you're dealing with enviromental extremes.  There was some gentle ribbing about 'Hill People' and Farmers with flat blocks of land. The emphasis was on character, what it really takes to live on the land in Australia. They write about the landscape, but the people in it are a crucial element.

The overwhelming similarity in these two sessions was the knowledge of the land, which all of the speakers had. This and a genuine love for the Australian landscape, taking care of it and preserving it, being as gentle as they could was very inspiring.

Rhyming Whipstick with Lipstick

Charles Jenkins is very, very good with kids. This is the Bendigo Writers Festival kid's songwriting session, which turned out to be an hour of great fun. As the rows filled with students, all colour coordinated in their school's uniforms, Charles is waiting quietly on the side of the room, by the mixing desk. The children are primary school aged, grades 3-6, some with legs still short enough to dangle when they sit in their chairs. Nervous excitement fills the room. There is chatter and constant movement.

But this completely changes once Charles starts the session. The kids are mesmerised. There's not much time, so we're off to write the first song. This is is word association exercise, and the process is completely democratic. Each one of the children gets to co-write the lyric.

The kids do this exercise twice, the pace is fast and the they love it. Half an hour down and they've already written two songs. There is a little interlude where Charles plays the kids a song as an example. They react immediately, and the whole room starts singing along to 'Shake it off'. Charles is like a well-intentioned pied piper. He can effortlessly engage a hundred children.

Charles asks the kids to identify parts of songs. And this is where it gets very surprising. These primary school aged children know much more than expected about song structure. Their answers go way beyond the standard verse, chorus, bridge. The kids talk about alliteration, symbolism and voice.

Charles' advice is "To get yourself into the song", and he tells us that "Songs can't appear like work."He breaks it down step by step in a way that is not just useful for the kids; this is great advice for any budding songwriter.

We split up into small groups and each school gets a slightly different perspective to write from. The idea is to collect rhyming couplets and for Charles to put these notes together in the song structure.

Waking in the morning - what do you see? Use your five senses. - St Theresa's Primary

The journey to Bendigo. - Lockington Primary

Coming into Bendigo. - New Gisborne Primary

There is still a buzz in the room. The kids have worked hard, now the notes of rhyming couplets get passed back and typed up, as Charles gets to work structuring them to create the song. As he works on the chorus more and more voices join in to sing along. As promised, the song has a massive chorus. I still hear it in my head whenever somebody says the word Bendigo. I guess that means it's a hit.

The teacher said we better go, better go, better go
|: Going down to Bendigo :|

Beyond the boat - Nam Le

I remember when my partner came home with the book in 2008. The cover was a monochrome landscape, the oceans light grey waves crashing to the shore, juxtaposed against the ink black sky. I fell in love with the cover.

The book is The Boat and its writer, Nam Le was not yet thirty when he published his collection of short stories. I read them for the first time when we were travelling, and much of my reading was done on trains and planes, interrupted by arrivals, departures, or changes. The second time I read The Boat was back here, in Australia, and I binge read it in one go. I read it for a third time leading up to the festival, and it struck me how tautly edited (in a good way) the book was.

The Boat became a huge success nationally as well as internationally, commercially as well as prize- winning, and it still has life left in it. Downstairs after the Nam Le talk, there was a sizeable queue of people wanting their books signed. A lot of them had new editions.

But I had been wondering what happenend to Nam Le. He is in the unenviable position of having to follow up on this hugely successful debut. There must be a lot of pressure. In 2008 you could barely catch public transport without seeing at least a couple of people reading his book.

He was a relaxed, engaging conversationalist at the festival, and it turns out, not surprisingly, that he has been keeping busy. He has been working as an editor, and writing his next book. It was illuminating to hear him speak about the editing process, and it turns out he is a rather extremist example of an editor. His new novel is a work in progress, but he has scrapped pretty much the whole draft and started again. This novel, perhaps about Thai pirates, will be completely re-written before it sees the light of day.

The Boat went through a similar editing process. There are stories in the boat that don't contain one word of their previous draft. And it worked well for Nam Le's first book to be so ruthless. I can't wait till the next one is published.

Dogs and Blowflies live in the moment

I've chosen this seat at the Capitol theatre. It is right up the back under the sound engineer's and lighting tech's window. The light from the booth illuminates my note book and the stage is way, way down there. Now the house lights go down, and I'm about to hear and see one of my personal favourites. I regret that I've chosen this seat. The theatre isn't quite full, but it's too late to swap and get closer. It can't be done without making a racket.

A slight white-haired figure crosses the stage. Robert Dessaix walks lightly and takes a seat. He writes with elegance, and there is the hint of danger the performance might go pear-shaped if he gets cranky. But that, to me, is part of his appeal.

There is no need to worry, Dessaix is on fire. He speaks eloquently and generously. He reads to us from his new memoir What Days Are For, recites Philip Larkin's days,  drawls a couple of Marlene Dietrich songs, peppers the conversation with bits of French and Russian, and reminds us, periodically that he is indeed performing for us. He leans forward and tells us his new book retails for $29.95, 'Buy it,' he says. We laugh. He is utterly engaging.

Dessaix is reflective, that is the nature of his new book, but he is also very funny. He lightens the tone at just the right moments. He seems to want to share genuine insights of himself, allowing us to peek into his head for an hour. If this is performance then Dessaix is very good.

Dessaix talks a lot about infatuation in What Days Are For. He experiences a lot of his moments of infatuation in foyers. Theatre, cinema, or perhaps even writers festivals. Dessaix describes it as a sudden and violent liking which can only be played with if you are anchored in something deeper. As in a committed relationship. All infatuations have a narrative. You make the narrative, and it is always mis-judged. It always ends badly. This, I think, is definitely true. I don't know if not being anchored in a relationship has stopped anybody from developing an infatuation, but I certainly think it's a probably a safer proposition for those in relationships (If it stops in the infatuation stage that is.)

Particularly compelling to me was Dessaix's argument against living in the moment. He tells us, "A well-shaped day has depth. I try to live well-shaped days. Only dogs and blowflies live in the moment."He has tapped into something here so part of the current zeitgeist. We are bombarded with messages telling us to experience the moment, to be mindful, but we only need to be told because we are constantly distracted by our phones. Living in the moment, in the literal sense, does sound like we are Goldfish (or dementia sufferers). I'm all for Dessaix's well-shaped days, where we can think about the past, be in the present and dream about the future instead.

There were many elements Dessaix covered in his talk, as there are in What Days Are For. He manages to tie them all up into a coherent whole. But he doesn't do it too neatly, there are unanswered questions, and with his light touch he provokes you to think. It was an incredibly enriching talk to watch from an audience's perspective.


Dessaix asks us to think about specifically what our days are for. And this I will take home with me.

 

Don't start at the beginning

I’m tired now

Playing tag with the same cars,

overtaking and falling behind again.

Leaving silvery streaks 
on the road’s wet surface.

Thinking about

John Wolseley.

The Australian landscape,

How little of it I’ve seen,

How long I’ve been here.

I wrote down place names

of lakes I want to go to.

Then, in front of me,

jutting through concrete clouds,

Hanging rock,

There’s the sign.

Miranda!