Breakfasty good

--H

Double art post

-- H

Empress 3042

Went to town with this sketch...all done in OpenCanvas 4. Particularly fond of the glowing cyborg tattoos.

--H

Sound Check

gravity on me, never let me down gently
gravity with me, never let me go

i dont pull me down
i dont pull me down on me

-- Gorillaz

Ranga-tanga

Possibly some Gustav Klimt influence crept in here.

-- H

Artblogging '08

Homeward bound

I left for the airport the next day with mingling feelings of regret and homesickness. I would have loved to stay longer and experience the city fully, but home was exerting it's pull and the wait in the airport terminal seemed an eternity. Cheap hamburger in hand, complete with soggy lettuce, I watched the planes skid over the runway under a thundery sky, waiting for my flight to be called.

The flight back to Brisbane seemed shorter that I remembered, but the familiar jolt as the plane left the runway was still there. I watched first the blue of the pacific and then the red expanse of my home country roll beneath the wings of the plane. Watching the sunset from above the clouds, I marveled at how more beautiful the sun's rays were when seen from up here. Shafts of light speared through clouds lit with gold, and the sky seemed on fire.

Below the clouds again, coasting along the runway in the twilight, it started to rain. The train ride from the airport was so quiet and uneventful it made the last couple of weeks seem surreal, and as the familiar landscape swept by it seemed to sweep away some of the reality of it all, as if I'd never been gone.

I recharged the mobile I hadn't been able to use for two weeks and called my parents to let them know I was back. And that seemed to confirm it, I was home.

-- H in Oz

Silver men from mars

Staring out at fog and drizzle as the bus speeds along the highways between Queenstown and Christchurch, the weather reflects my mood. Everyone's very subdued today and for the first time on this trip I feel travel-sick, even the few stop-offs along the way don't provide much distraction. It's with a sigh of relief that we finally draw up to the hostel in the middle of Christchurch. I left the remainder of the group I was traveling with back down south, so I haul my luggage up in the rickety lift by myself and plan my first days alone since leaving Auckland.

Next morning, armed with a map, scarf and jacket I go exploring. Down the road is an old university, now converted into a cultural arts center. Large galleries are filled with an eclectic mix of paintings and beautiful craft by local artisans, but with moths fluttering out of my wallet I have to limit my purchasing glee. By a stroke of luck I'm here on a Saturday and the markets are in full swing outside the university building when I get there. Very craft oriented, it was usual to find the actual artist peddling their wares in the stalls. Christchurch denizens seem to still embrace the struggling, one-man craft industry with an enthusiasm untempered by cynical commercialism.

The whole small city has an alternative, arty feel to it, with old-english style buildings separated by wide, grassy parks and bisected with meandering brooks. Every street corner is decorated with some statue, be it modern or classical, and every alley reveals a small, intimate bar or cafe.
Getting lost amongst such alleys proves a fantastic way to experience the city, but failing to mark the spot of an interesting shop or bar on my map means half an hour wandering aimlessly hoping to find it again.

-- H in Oz