Sunday, March 22, 2015

PROSE, POETRY AND MIGRATION.


Wing Song oil on canvas  83x168 cm Nada Murphy 2013

Others are with their friends and family this day and our writer’s group has become company. 

I read out loud and I will stumble before I get my stride and slow to the pace of the words. 

My friend listens, and will simply respond “wow” , She says I am revealing more of myself in my words. 

Yes, this is more personal writing I am happy to share with her.

Her own words are always evocative of emotion as she juxtaposes the tug between “her angels and devils” burning down to the core of being.   Not simply well chosen but felt.

There is more in this too. There is a layer of events that trigger the flow.


The manuscript another has offered starts with the writers musing over how to start the story and starts a world away. The text is full of idiom and stands translation for my friend, who is not working in her first language. 

We wander into stories of travel from far-away places where our roots were established before moving in our hearts.  Tribal and self protective communities or contemporary life where there is a
lot of movement? People have been moving for eons travelling from one side of this spinning existence to the other . Otherwise there would be no such thing as a colony, or perhaps it is an enclave in this foreign place?

Nothing new. 

You can respond with curiosity, openness, and generosity, then learn, or close the doors. 

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

WHY PLAY HARP?


The first album I ever bought was John Lee Hooker and Canned Heat. Of course if you have listened to that you would know that the “harp” plays a special role.
I have been playing piano for my own pleasure since I was a kid and continue to work on improving but of course if you want to move around a bit it is a bit difficult to take the piano. I have a lovely Kawai grand but the little harp just fits in my pocket.
These days I am working as an artist and the piano shares space in my studio which opens out into our covered back patio and doubles as a performance or workshop space.  Over the years we have had a regular end of year show when I would play, along with all the kids who were learning instruments. Most of those kids now are professional musicians! But I stick to my art
In addition to painting I have recently started to build skills working with glass with very pleasing results. 
You are most welcome to visit the studio.
Nada Murphy
Fine Artist
10 Holland Street
Wembley WA 6014
+61 08 93873162

+61 0400031952

Monday, June 23, 2014

WINTER



Winter, that season in the year that has come around again.
A chilled air, the days sunny and clear
 I have always loved winter’s in this city
 Even though as the years pass I hanker more for the fine hot days of the north
 Once discovered they are hard to pass up
Along the with open space and the starry nights.
This year we have no escape route though from the morning chill
As a child winters were a time for those last minutes in bed to be savored.
 It was a small weatherboard house that did not insulate you from the frosty air.
The pace was set for almost running for the train to keep your soul from the cold. 
And the rain would drizzle over the day grey and monotone.
 We wore black and dessert boots.
Now the cold just seeps into to these complaining bones
A sunny day is the gift.
People refer to the autumn years
Autumn colours are warming even though the life is leaving the leaves.
The tree survives another season
Winter is for when we grow cold.
The cold sits in my body more with each passing year
And that some things in winter simply hibernate
But others challenge the myth that spring is the only time for the emergence of new life.
I celebrate my own birth in the month of July. 
Yes smack in the middle of winter.
I will live every winter to the full.



Saturday, July 13, 2013

FOOTPRINTS ACROSS OUR LAND

A few years ago when planning my first painting journey into the north west I started to seek out information concerning the roles that  indigenous women played in the desert communities. I always was in awe of how indigenous people has survived in such harsh and what for most of us would see as inhospitable country. I did not find information about these women so easy to access, although  I have been slowly building a picture in my head through different means, meeting with indigenous artists, and taking in as many exhibitions of indigenous art as I could as each painting informs as well as reading.

I went into Magabala books whilst I was last in Broome and picked up a copy of Footprints Across Our Land a compilation of  has translated the stories told by senios Kukatja, Wangkajunga, and Ngarti women . based at Wiirimanu and Yaka Yaka communities. These women present their perspective on living in the desert, Tjukurroa (Dreaming) and their encounters with kariya ( white people) in the 1930's and 1940's.

The book is informtive on many levels and revealed the strength and capability of indigenous women with insights into the ways of providing and caring for their children and the older members of the group. The story reveal that roles extend well past the gathering of a diverse range of  bush tucker as women also hunted along side the men. It also reveals how men and women shared roles in taking care of new born infants. The foundation of the underlying community mentality is clear. Pulling together was the best survival strategy. The modern world could learn a great deal.
.
There are many quotes one could share but this one reveals how things have changed in one critical way:

" We were real skinny ones in bush - fast too. Any one can grab that kangaroo's tail, even the girls. Different food in the bush. We bin chase and kill animals when we were kids, we really quick. Bin get pussycat, wallaby, goanna, and little kangaroos. It all changed now. we dying form sugar...early too.  We bin have different training in bush, bin go without meat and food for one months. take a long time to die..." Lumu Nungurrayi.

I know I will read these stories again and again. My respect for the indigenous women of our country
has grown exponentially.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

FOR AUNTY JOY



One of my regrets has been that by living in Western Australia I have not been in the position to contribute more to the quality of your life this past 10 years.  Initially we could use the telephone and I know you enjoyed hearing me play the piano over the phone, but eventually your health deteriorated to the point that phone calls were no longer possible.  I had to be satisfied with brief visits we had when I did come in to Melbourne.

When I first visited you at MacLeod, we went for a walk and came back to the living area to play the piano for a bit.  I found myself with the community song book, as I always needed the music on front on me, unlike you who would simply play from memory.  I could hear other folk settling down to listen to as well.  Eventually someone piped up and said” who is this woman any way?” and you piped up  “She is Nada Joy Wood and she is my niece. I played some more and then the same question was posed and you told the woman again.  Memory loss is something that was a common affliction.

But we have many, many great memories.

Firstly I recall running away from home, to your place when I was little. It was a long walk but I knew the way well.  Of course I sought respite at your home.  I remember deciding to retrace my steps though as I discovered the “cute cottage” and the see saw we kids wanted, under construction and thought that Grandpa might be cross with me.

Many years on you gave that loving care you always gave, when I was quite exhausted from visiting Mum at the Austin after she had stroked.  You suggested I just lie down for a bit. You tucked me in and pull the blind down in the middle room.  The memory is of your large capable hands just smoothing the blanket across me as I drifted off.

We had so many good times not the least of which was the Christmas table laden with sponge cake, sandwiches, and of course the saveloys that all us kids polished off with gusto.  I can remember barely being tall enough to see what was on the table, but knowing that it was laden with delicious food, the white linen table cloth, always smooth and strong.

The garden, always so beautiful, a magnolia, the ferns s and of course the veggies: your beautiful dresses, and the rose bowl.

Then of course there was the music. Your influence was of course immense.

As it would be you were quietly slipping away, and I was rehearsing with the Western Australian Opera Chorus for a performance in Broome, set for the day that you would quietly go.  I would be page turner again. I have done this a few times before as I read music and have the hang of working in the outdoor setting. 

You would have loved to be in that audience. Fantastic rousing music, with so much music that would have been so familiar for you.  The first that strikes my heart is Casta Diva from Bellini’s Norma, one Dame Joan had in her repertoire.  Then later as the pianist slides over the lilting Offenbach’s Barcarole. We have The Easter Hymn and Humming Bird Chorus.  The pianist's solo : Rachmaninoff  Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini. The program flows.  Then to wrap it up. You’ll Never Walk alone.   

I hold my own , but then the encores. The finale is a favourite of mine that is very sentimental. I knew that would get me. Jimmy Chi’s Town by the Bay but everyone gets emotional with that tune.
Here is an authentic version http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-C1LVwJq7mY just for you.
Love you so much Aunty Joy. 

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Performance Controller » Bangkok Floods–Unrelenting work as information jigsaw puzzle clears http://ping.fm/es4YV
Bangkok Floods–Unrelenting work as information jigsaw puzzle clears http://ping.fm/4ZG8a