Wednesday, July 24, 2013

# One Day in the Garden: The new patch.

So Moving to Musk Vale.
A few words come to mind.
Epic.
Far.
Isolated.
But with this also comes. . .
Awesome!
(A NEW. . . ) Garden!
Forest! (in my back Yard)
Awesome Studio and Workshop. 
Amongst others, but I really just want to get to the pictures. . .

So on a few new moons in a baron signs, around half way between equinox and solstice, we decide it was time to evaluate the "ready mades." The Ready Mades: 4 raised garden beds which came with our new humble forest side abode. (which was great to have after abandoning my last garden. It was number 3 in a long line of well loved soil, which was bulldozed my stupid land lords to put in "noice" things like paving or concrete. These lovelies have good northerly aspect with a good gap in the trees for sun. However the soil was in need of much love. It seems to have been over-used for garlic ( Once a little birdie told me that growing garlic for more than 2 consecutive seasons is bad for your soil. )


 Also, after closer inspection it became clear there was something else effecting the soil health.
 The Genius who previously tended this patch thought it a fantastic idea to lay down synthetic carpet as a weed mat. I was unsure if i was judging this in haste, until i took a step back and noticed two things. 
1. There was a bucket tone of weeds in all 4 beds. 
2. the soil under the carpet was bone dry, and hence the water was not passing through.
And this could only lead to one conclusion. The system was not letting the plants find water from outside the shallow confines of the bed, and probably limited microbial exchanges. so the carpet had to go.
So the first task after painstakingly removing the weed was a joyous game of 'dig up a chunk of the bed down to the carpet, dump it on the other side, lift back the carpet.' Repeat. Ad-nausium .

  
 We did however make some new friends. . .

  
So, cute! 
We called him Kermy. 
These guys were cool too. strange burrowing creatures. I look forward to remembering to look them up. Anyone have any ideas? 



and on. . . and on. 
Its lucky having hands in the dirt and a spade in my hands makes me so freaking happy. 
its like meditation. Until the back pain! 
Chop wood. . . Carry water. . . Reach enlightenment.
  
Finally the green manure crop goes in.
Broad beans and Lima Beans. And a good healthy layer of mulch.
We went for 50/50 peas straw and sugar cane as the aim of the game was to increase the nitrogen levels as well as improve the soil texture.
Now we play the waiting game!


Tuesday, July 23, 2013

#Musk Vale: Sundays in.

Dad's weekend
It Sunday in the forest.
Its Raining.
Its Cold.
Don't want to  go on a bush walk.
Dont want to play outside.
What to do?


 Drawing me drawing you. 

Still life-life Drawing.

Lets Draw!

Sunday, July 21, 2013

#Looking Back 2012: A Romantic in Europe.

Berlin: The Teufelsberg ( Devil's Mountain)

Some notes of interest. . . 

~The mountain is the highest point in Berlin. . .
~It is literally a mountain made from all the debris from WW2 in west Berlin. .  .
(Seeming as though West Berlin was surrounded by East Germany, they chose an old, twisted Nazi science experimentation hospital to dump all the rubble on. The Americans then put a listening station on top, just to keep an ear out for the entire population of Berlin and the pesky, Russians. . . as the new world police, i guess they though it was a good idea)
~It is another awesome Berlin overgrown empty.
~It is a must see, on the non conventional tourist list.
(apparently there is a group doing "tours" and while im sure they are lovely folk, it really just as illegal- so please dont support these guys and there advertised attention bringing, and just ride there and jump the fence. )


 
 Just through the fence, very strange vibes.




 Sometimes it really is the small thing, eh. . .




 . . . well not for a few months, but yes.




It has a great view of the nuclear power plant. 
 The sound reverberation once you are up inside the geodesic microphone, is crazy! 
There was a french guy, repeating Uber SS, Uber SS! when i was in there, and people clicking and clapping and  singing. The sounds all bled in together and washed all over the space. it was one of the most uncanny audio experiences i've ever had.
The over all impression was one of extreme surreality, and one which was quite difficult to pin down . I could feel the reverberations though time and space, all at once, all washing over me in thick layers in every moment. What experiments were done here in the nazi era? My conscious mind dosent want to know, but it did leave me with an overwhelming and twisted intrigue. How much rubble was pilled here? Im sure i could find the rational answer with some research, but i could almost feel the various histories of all those buildings, all the stories of them being built, all the things that happened in them. Did people die there? And finally the listening station. I got glimpses of the social unease still present in Berlin, and heard so many stories of how things moved through the state of flux after the wall came down. What the people of this place must have felt on a daily basis. Totalitarian government in one breath, "Liberated" and ruled by hyper-capitalism and communism the next. Neither of which spoke your mother tongue or cared for the separation of your family and friends by the line on the map that now prevented them from free involvement in each others lives.    Here at devils mountain all these  intense feelings and events seemed to culminate in a eerie and forbidding way. 

The coordinates for Devils Mountain.  52°29′51″N 13°14′28″E
I found it best to get there by playing put the blue dot on the red pin by bicyle, with the coorordinates 
entered in google maps- if i had taken peoples advice on how to get there
I think  I may  have ended up never getting there at all.

# Looking Back: 2012. A Romantic in Europe: Berlin- Abandoned Theme Park.


Escaping another winter for a European Summer was absolutely mind-blowingly, life-changingly fantastic! (except for the agonising distance from my children)

From catching up with long lost friends, checking out ridiculous amounts of art, both old and new, a reawakening of my old addiction of taking photo-essays of countless reclaimed abandoned spaces. . .
I could almost handle that the Art and Environment conference in Budapest ( For which I originally booked my tickets) had been canceled and postponed till next year. (2013) When i Surely wouldn't be on the other side of the world.)

________________________________________________________________________________

2012. 
A Romantic in Europe:
Abandon Spaces; Berlin- Abandoned Theme Park.

I had just bumped into Brodie Ellis, an old Melbourne art traps friend and past work colleague, and close friend to some of my closest friends. I had a just bought a vintage bike and was keen to find some abandoned spaces. Brodie had just hired one, and she had also heared of the charms of the abandoned theme park and was keen to come along for the ride.

My memory is not the greatest for filing events in order, especially when looking back over 12 months, but im pretty sure I got the heads up from Michella Gleeves, who I had met randomly on the ICE train from Frankfurt to Berlin. (That's a good story too,  i'll hopefully get to that a little later) However Rob Longstaff, street musician extraordinaire, by this stage was showing me around the traps in the east, swore he was the first Australian to ever go there. . . and no doubt would also swear it was him. . . ( love ya Rob, there's a tale or two to tell about you too)

This was one of the less spooky over-grown empties i found in my hunts in Berlin and as good as any a place as any to start.







. . .  Ghost train. . .




 Hiding from security. . . 
(apparently you are not "allowed" into the abandoned them park, so not being seen is better.)



This place, while having the implicit vibes of any abandoned space, had the overarching feeling of the fall of this place to the Communist government of East Berlin. It speaks volumes of this part of the world and its journey through time. All while effortlessly telling a story of the resilience of nature and urban decay.

It was great to share the experience with Brodie, too. Whilst company can generally make for a more enjoyable foray into the unknowns of the lawless terrain of an abandoned space, Brodie's sensitivities to time and place and general caution, were also a fantastic asset. It also helps to have a 'cute', well spoken and quick witted female companion when you do actually get caught. (we did push our luck a little)
This turned what could have been legal trouble into a thrill and a story. 

Its a good easy empty to navigate and when they are not setting up a corporate event (like we expected that!) its a pretty easy in to urban exploration in Dickes B. (big B. . . aka Berlin)







Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Since my last post i have been quite busy really. . .
Traveling,  Drawing, sculpting,  being a Dad, gardening,  and most recently,  moving to an awesome little homestead backing on to the Wombat State Forest.

Now that my Website. . .  www,PjKalemba.com is up, im going to make good on my promise to myself and blog!

So here gos!

X Pj

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

With my website  PJKalemba.com almost over the line, I'm really looking forward to using my blog as just that, a blog! (rather than a under-kept project archive!)

Soon i can post up all the amazing images and thoughts sitting on my lappy from my life as a photoholoic . From moments caught working in the bush and on residencies and traveling, to shots from the studio and the catalog of inspirational moments i find out in the world. As well as an outlet for written musing and philosophising!

So. . .  Blogging here i come!! 

Stay tuned!

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Cherish or Perish.

 Cherish or Perish.
2011.


Notes from An Australian Summer.

 Watercolour and Ink on Paper

 Callistemon Foresterae:
 Population 3000

 Swainsona formosa:
A Love Story 


Telopea speciosissima:
An Ecological Portrate. 

Cloudy Bay, Bruny Island:
The Hunter and the Pray.


Eudyptula minor:
All the pretty little things.