Tuesday, June 24, 2008

in which the fish is speaking to birds

Such drama, so cinematic your appearing like that!
Out of the eye of the sun, over the clifftop directly above my head soaring into my sight.
Sea Eagle,
wings spread so wide, wing tips with feathers spread like eager fingers. Motionless above me , just your head moves, looking down into my face.

Drawing a slow circle in the air, and I the centre of it standing with my face raised up.

All at once every single bird, from each tuft and cleft and crevice on the headland rises up, spontaneously as if every note from the page of a concerto lifts, at the taptap of an unseen conductor, lifts and disappears. Silently, up and away.
Sea Eagle, such a pretty white neck you have, but you are young yet, the dark brown of the shadows underneath give you away, but here you are hunting alone.

Out to sea: above the blue, circling over gulls who clamor away. I know
when I turn around I will feel the southern wind on my face and will be forced
to acknowledge the presence of the moon still hanging
pale and blue in the daytime sky.

In my line of sight
two Sooty Oystercatchers highstepping over the rocks: I spy you both from here in the water, wearing your red spectacles
and your redpencil party beaks,
you are both so solemn as you write, carefully fullstopping the rocks, I say
you sillies,

nobody will ever read that.


I tell you, as you dart beneath me, bedecked with airbells, 
more small black mammal than bird.
If you frighten me again damned cormorant, pied or otherwise
I will seize you by that bobbing neck and fling you into the waves: one minute you are snake, next seal, then something else again. I tell you
you scare the air right out of me when you do that. There are
fish elsewhere
than the ones in my shadow
go find them somewhere else: the sea is wide.

In Regards to Trembling:

It is as if you have somewhere a twin, and they are experiencing some form of angst or trouble, and you shiver along with them. That seems to be the only way to describe this.

Something else:
Something I do not like is cooking, but I love painting. Tis pity I can't eat paint.:


Regulus said...

Which of these pictures did you take? They are all beautiful. And I am assuming you painted the last one. It's lovely. Paint me a picture!

By the way, I like the slightly larger font size you used for this entry.

Where was the lead picture taken? Is that near your place? It looks like that place 3 hours or so south of Sydney you went to a few months ago that I made a fuss about.

fifi said...

I didn't take the eagle, I got that from the nest, which is why it doesn't look brown under the wings. The first picture is the north end of the beach, here where I live. That is where I was standing when I saw the eagle, it came over the headland. It is where I run to every day, then back. Not far.

My palette at present looks better than the picture. I wish I could introduce that fluidity into the painting rather than where I swipe the paint with my brush.

yes I never realsied the font was so small. I only just found where you could change it, talk about quick off the mark!

Mary said...

I know a little of that trembling now you have explained it. It is almost as though you are shivering with cold but it is not cold.

I am not a fan of cormorants.

One day, when I have moved back to Sydney, and if this is not too forward, I would like to come and take photos with you at your beach!

fifi said...

of course you can come and take photos at the beach, you don't have to wait till you move!

Though sad to say, I have had the house valued this week. perhaps you'd best come soon :-)

alice c said...

How I miss the sea when I read your writing. Having grown up in a harbour town and spent a childhood on the beach it feels so strange to be so far inland. I suppress that need to breathe salty air because I have no option but one day, one day...

meggie said...

I don't think I could bear to live too far from the sea.
I love those colours in the paint.
I like cooking, but only when I am in the mood! Too bad I cant eat my sewing!

jane said...

I shall steal these pictures and turn them into plastic!

Kirti said...

Perhaps you will find a way to cook like you paint?? Is there a move in store for you????????? Surely not far from the ocean!

Jellyhead said...

Eagles are magnificant aren't they? I love raptors (learnt that word from by nerdy birdy husband and now I use it whenever possible)

So you're moving? Just elsewhere in Sydney or to another city altogether?

Red Hen (dette) said...

The paint does look delicious. That is why I like to make cakes topped with thick impasto icing. I made all sorts of cakes for my kids. So sure of my cake painting skills Bantam Boy requested A cake in the shape of a gorilla picking daisies with an orange gorilla- he got a green tyrannosaurus Rex. Wedding cakes are great fun too!

fifi said...

Oi, Janeybird, steal away, though I thought it is usually, "I will steal this plastic and turn it into birds..."
I was thinking of you. The waves were good but I didn't want to say.

I am not wanting to move but may have to, but not too far away.

Cooking! I like to make cakes, and I like to paint with icing.
sadly though Kirti, nobody here cares much for cake. I have just made a Nigella lawson one, I thought it might give me the air of being a capable and good domestic goddess for long enough that I might write a story and paint a painting. They have yet to taste it. let's just see.

BTW Red Hen, Ben Quilty paints with industrial cake-icing tools. He told me, this is a direct passing on of information straight from the artists

Jellyfish: It sounds just too mean a word for a bird but it also sounds like the word rapture. Which I find appropriate

Meggie, at least you have nice pantry cupboards to take your ingredients out of!! ha ha! i don't, can I borrow your gom?

Anonymous said...

That trembling thing - I do get that. Some days I wake up and feel that something dire has happened or will happen and yet I never know why. Nothing does usually but I feel so shaky all day.

meli said...

i can smell the air in these photos.

it is so strange to think of an australian winter. i have not seen it for five years.

travistee said...

Fifi, do you sell your work? If/when you do, and when I can afford such gorgeous pieces of art, I would like to buy!

fifi said...

yes trav,
I do, but that last shot was of my palette which , truth be known, is possibly nicer than the paintings!

meli I will make some winter here for you then.