Lots of people in Sydney hate the rain. Great wet stained streets. Branches dripping with every shaking gust of wind. Blank grey skies swollen with clouds and leaves. Massive brown veiny leaves papering the pavements. Perhaps four weeks ago I went leaf mad and my handbag was full of leaves and the walls of our studio trembled with prime specimens and I drew and then painted a really big one. Maree took it and let it float down a diagonal stream collage from traditional origami paper. It became a card and a wrapping paper.
I love the way nature sculpts the seasons and gives everyone this strange interval of reflection. Winter is very introspective. It's like a black and white photo hand tinted here and there with pockets of warmth. The light is hard and a bit pitiless. It's a little like living inside an ink drawing. And season's feel total, like they are never going to end. But Maree said, over the fourth cup of tea, "Anna, what about summer?" "Oh"...I had completely forgotton the electric blue sky. The air melting with jasmine. I forgot to look forward. And so the bright flowers came. Flowers not yet on the trees, but frozen on tea cups and my favourite dress prints. And the drawings scattered all over the floor looked like broken bouquets of our cold small studio and we felt warmer. Hurry up summer.
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