time for a picnic.

I'm loving this picnic inspiration board put together by Snippet&Ink.
Here are the links to the photo owners:
Top row from left: photo by Samuel Lippke, botanical sketches, photo by Jonathan Canlas, typewriter guest book via Brooklyn BrideRow 2: vintage photo via EmilyStyle, photo by Lisa Lefkowitz, peony bud photo by Ericka McConnell, boutonniere from AmorologyRow 3: save-the-date by Linda & Harriett, picnic basket photo by Kathryn Kleinman, Modern Day Design bouquet photo by Jose Villa

ANNA WOLF.

Wow. That's all that can be said about this insanely beautiful photography by Anna Wolf.
I really want to experiment more with film photography.

memories from brazil pt2.

This day, our third in Commandatuba, could be titled 'Our One Day of Perfect Weather, in a Perfect Tropical Escape". Everything about this day was perfect. The weather reached around 32 degrees celsius, and was accompanied by a cloudless sky. Around 9am, Alberto and I emerged from our room to a already prepared breakfast table. On the green cloth lay hot buttered french rolls, freshly squeezed cacau juice, plates of ham and cheese and other items I was not used to eating at breakfast (such as cookies, plain cake and chocolate biscuits).

We quickly ate our fill, put on our swimmers and shorts and drove down to the jetty, where a boat was waiting to take people across the lake to a beach on the other side. Alberto and I sat on the small wooden boat, and made friends with some Portuguese tourists as our legs soaked up the sun. After arriving on the other side of the lake, I was astounded, as it felt I was standing on the front of one of those 'Tropical Paradise' postcards. This is what I pictured Brazil to be.

This is what I was waiting for. Thousands of palm trees broke the suns rays into millions of dancing shadows on the sand under our feet. Beautifully coloured umbrellas belonging to the beach restaurant stood before us, just infront of a white sand beach with rolling light blue, almost transparent, waves crashing on the shore. The beach stretched for miles and miles, there was no way we could walk the entire length. No crowds, no noise, just the calming sounds of the waves crashing on the shore. Alberto ordered a plate of fried fish and two glasses of juice for our lunch, and hearing that it would take around 45 minutes to cook, we decided this was the perfect time to take a dip in the water. After hearing so much from Alberto how the water was incredibly warm in Brazil, I was actually surprised to find out that infact that was true. Coming from the cool - sometimes freezing - waves of Bondi Beach, I could have never imagined warm sea water possible.

We strolled along the endless white sand, diving into the water now and then to cool off, taking pictures of ourselves with my chunky underwater disposable camera while crabs danced side-ways across the beach, so many of them, and made their homes beneath the sand. We sat down to eat, a perfect view in front of us, and tasted beautifully cooked white fish, and an unusual yet lovely fresh juice. Wanting to linger a little longer on the beach, we realised that the boat was here to take us back to Luiz's place.

The sun scorched our necks as we walked through the small village that was Commandatuba, stopping in tourist shops to buy gifts for the family, and past the beautiful old church that stood alone and proud in the centre of the quadrangle. Throughout the afternoon, we slowly turned red and smothered ourselves with cooling aloe vera gel. With Rene and Carol we swam in Luiz's pool for hours, and afterwards were treated to a performance where they sung for us on the porch. We ate churrassco for lunch, and left over pizza for dinner, and spent the night watching Brazilian 'Novelas' (soap operas),
and strangely I found myself understanding more than I gave myself credit for.

memories from brazil (in no particular order).

ILHA DE COMMANDATUBA:
I remember we slept on really rectangular and hard pillows at Luiz's place. We despised them at first, but they later turned out good for our backs. Luiz's home was beautiful.As we entered Ilha de Commandatuba, I could see how pretty the house was going to be, as the entire surroundings conjured images and memoriesof lazy summer days, and looking from the window of the car we saw dark-skinned beauties with wide-tooth grins leaping from swinging tyres into glistening lakes. As werolled along the bumpy red-dirt road, past wooden shanty houses and simple grocery stores, past the blue and white church positioned in the centre of the town's quadrangle, we eventually stumbled upon Alberto's grandfathers home.

An italian-inspired house, it contrasted immensly from the homes and village we had seen moments before. The electronic gate opened before us, and yapping terriors came to greet us at our arrival. A commercialised pool beamed a deep blue at us, as we stepped out of the Fiat, and hammock perfectly positioned on the wide set balcony seemed to be calling my name. We met Ira, Luiz's partner, a beautiful young woman with richly tanned skin and a strong voice. She learnt of my sickness, and quickly ran inside to make me some herbal 'cha' (a hot tea that was quite possibly the most horrible tasting liquid that had passed my lips). Alberto's grandfather emerged from a mid-afternoon slumber to greet us in the living room.

Unable to interpret exactly what everyone was saying to each other, I used this moment of time to glance around the large room from where I was sitting. Unusual objects were positioned throughout, giant chessboards, large glass balls that changed colour every few seconds, decorative although quite ugly fish descending in size along the wall. After the catch-up we took a stroll through the rest of Luiz's home.

Luiz has once been a very successful banker in the region of Sao Paulo. Leading a highly stressful life, he accumulated all the wealth he could and used it in his retirement, building a home from scratch in a state known for its relaxation, Bahia. He used his large block of land to create a vegetable and fruit garden, where he grew a vast range of tropical foods, ranging from the typical sweet mangoes, pineapples and passionfruits to intricate and unusual fruits such as mangosteins, cacau and acai berries.

Beautiful mango trees stood on the green spikey grass, as we made our way through the garden until we reached his private pier, complete with two banana chairs at the end. It was a perfect picture of paradise. Overhead of the pier, hung a tangled web of green plants, shoots and branches. Luiz turned to Alberto and I and whispered: "Last week I found a Boa-constrictor around two metres long from these branches", and with that he turned and made his way back toward the house leaving us wide-eyed and slightly scared for our lives.

The mosquitoes were buzzing and the air was hot as day fell into dusk, and we drenched ourselves with insect repellent before we sat down to eat Luiz and Ira's homemade pizza, one of the best I've ever eaten, on his wrap-around porch. A brick pizza oven and homemade dough made the difference as we devoured strange yet wonderful combinations of kiwi-fruit and cheese pizza, banana and cinnamon and just simple cheese pizzas, with rocket leaves and olives. We laughed and talked throughout the night, with me trying to understand all the portuguese I could without going insane from confusion. I was a constant source of amusement, with me repeating words such as "'O que" (what?) or "eu nao entendi" (I don't understand) multiple times throughout the night.

Alberto and I retired to bed soon after, and as was mentioned earlier, discovered these strange rectangular pillows, and were not too excited about sleeping on them. We eventually fell asleep, our heads propped on a 45 degree angle, with sounds of Rene and Carol singing softly on CD in the background.

que saudades!

this phrase literally has no translation into english. which is why i love it, although hard to explain. it pretty much means 'so much longing' or 'what longings', except stronger. brazilians cannot understand how we only use one word - 'miss' - when we miss something. anyway, i have been 'longing for' or 'missing' brazil terribly. and i'm already planning to return later on in the year when uni finishes, although it is incredibly expensive! one place in particular that im missing is Trancoso, Bahia. there is so much culture, so many colours, amazing delectible foods and the people are so warm and friendly. everything about this place was amazing. this is what lonely planet has to say about it:

"Smaller in scale than Arraial, youthful Trancoso is also quite captivating. Sitting atop a grassy bluff overlooking fantastic beaches, this tiny rustic village has a relaxed air with a pretty assortment of guesthouses. It’s known for its wide, grassy and, most importantly, car-free quadrado (square). This central plaza has a grazing horse or two and football-playing lads and a small church at one end. Surrounding it are tropical foliage and colorful buildings, which house expensive boutiques and open-air bars and restaurants. The sight of the quadrado at night is magical. Rave culture still thrives in ‘Transe-coso, ’ and it’s famous for full-moon beach parties. The village fills nicely in summer, but in the low season you’ll find it in hibernation."

the art diaries.

from my 2007 art diary.
old photos are of my mum back in the 70's.
and the last old photo, with the running ink effect is of my sisters.
(i think in the late 80's).
gosh, i wish mainstream photography was still like this.

one of many mysteries.

Mystery of mysteries
That you could love someone like me
In your hands eternity
And yet you have the time for me
A love so undeserved
You held nothing in reserve
Heaven played its symphony
I took your hand you rescued me

Grace like a river
Is flowing down
Is flowing down
How sweet the sound
Grace like a river
It's flowing down to me
Oh you're all around

Staring at my history
Was all alone and never free
The sands of time have let me see
Your faithful shadow next to me

A love so unreserved
I did nothing to deserve
Love so free but what's the cost
To carry this old rugged cross


Grace like a river
Is flowing down
Is flowing down
(How sweet the sound)
Grace like a river
It's flowing down to me
(Oh you're all around)

I love you, I thank you
I'm nothing, without your
Grace like a river

- delirious

cannot wait...

To see this movie tomorrow. I'm secretly going to imagine in my mind that Jack from Titanic didn't actually die, but this would be the sequel to his life together with Rose. Is that a bit silly?

cupcakes around the world

Once upon a time, there was a friday ritual. It was known as Afternoon Cupcake Time, where me and a few girls got together to venture into strange and unbeknown places to try delectable little (or possibly even large ones if we were in the mood) cupcakes. This ritual, sadly, has faded away, and I'm left suddenly, everytime I see a cupcake (or even a picture of one) with an intense desire to taste new and exciting flavours of cupcakes. Here I've found some cute little cupcakes originating from Berlin, Germany. Beautiful photography teamed with gorgeous cupcakes, who could ask for more?

(nb: my method of determining a good cupcake is measuring the icing to cupcake ratio. If it is similar, then it is good - very good.)

Berlin, Germany
Cupcake Berlin
Krossener Strasse 1210245
Berlin, Germany

I am enjoying...

looking through the current issue of Real Living Magazine. Find their website here, and their blog here. Being summer now in Australia, with temperatures averaging around 28-35 degrees (celsius), and with a freshly painted room, I'm scoping out new ways to decorate to match the season.

(I'm loving that paisly pink floral dress and those gorgeous
patterned pillows in the bottom picture!)

a piece of well-constructed poetry.

I believe in living.I believe in the spectrum of Beta days and Gamma people.I believe in sunshine.In windmills and waterfalls,tricycles and rocking chairs.And i believe that seeds grow into sprouts.And sprouts grow into trees.I believe in the magic of the hands.And in the wisdom of the eyes.I believe in rain and tears.And in the blood of infinity.I believe in life.And i have seen the death parade march through the torso of the earth,sculpting mud bodies in its path.I have seen the destruction of the daylight,and seen bloodthirsty maggots prayed to and saluted.I have seen the kind become the blind and the blind become the bind in one easy lesson.I have walked on cut glass.I have eaten crow and blunder bread and breathed the stench of indifference.I have been locking by the lawless.Handcuffed by the hater.Gagged by the greedy. And, if i know any thing at all,it's that a wall is just a wall and nothing more at all.It can be broken down.I believe in living.I believe in birth.I believe in the sweat of loveand in the fire of truth.And i believe that a lost ship,steered by tired, seasick sailors,can still be guided home to port.

* words by reststops.livejournal.com/
* image by Bueller via Poppytalk

pages from my journal

(1) mollini shoes and vintage purse (from fringe bar markets paddington) on my front porch.
(2) birthday flowers

a little trip to brazil

Last year (November 19th), me and my boyfriend jet setted to Sao Paulo Brazil for a grand total of 40 days. The experience, the places, the people, the colours, the food was unforgettable. And over the next few weeks, maybe months, I'll be penning my travels down on this blog as a permanent memory. It was, to say the least, one of the most amazing experiences of my life.











(1) Myself, Alberto, Dandara and Leo (Alberto's little brother and sister)
(2)Alberto & myself atop Atibaia's highest and biggest rock, Pedra Grande (which literally translates to: Big Rock)

after just a little while...

I'm back to blogging! Or might i say, after a long time. Nearly a year infact. But, the whole new feeling that a new year evokes, along with some amazing blogs I read daily, has inspired me to pick up blogging again. I've hit a creative snag in my life, abandoning my love for illustration, photography and art in general. Why? I'm not so sure, perhaps the fear of what I create or desire to create won't impress my hardest critic - myself. But it's 2009.
A new year, and I'm vowing to myself to not let another year slip by in my life where I don't pick up a pencil, or paintbrush, or camera. Life's too short right? So here goes.

*image by dazeychic