Life on the Edge

Taken almost from the same spot a couple of days ago, the above photos demonstrate how complex are the issues of peace. In the morning I photographed the Peace Fire and the sky was clear; there was a tranquility that allowed my inner being to relax. In the evening, however, the vast red sky signalled yet another round of multiple forestry burnoffs, visibly marking the death of more ancient forests and the animals and plants within the burning coupes. The newspaper that day also carried an angry letter from an old union boss, John Halfpenny, that supported the governments forestry program by condemning a message from Gunter Grass in the Future Perfect exhibition catalogue of which I was a part. What to do? How does one sit besides a Peace Fire twice a day in an attempt to learn to live peacefully and yet remain committed to stopping humanities violent behaviour toward humans and towards all living beings? Below is a letter to the editor I wrote yesterday. Am I being fair? Am I bearing witness? Or am I fuelling the fires of anger? Dear Editor, One hopes that as a person gets older, their life’s experiences mature them with wisdom, compassion and an unfailing sense of the need for a peaceful coexistence between every living being on this planet. Instead, with John Halfpenny’s letter to the Mercury (April 9), I read a letter from someone whose ageing heart and mind seem to have ossified into brittle comments of half truths. On the one hand he condemns the burning of the Dixie Chicks CD’s; a paragraph later, he changes his mind on literary freedom and condemns the artist and Nobel Prize winner, Gunter Grass, because of Grass’s written plea to our government to stop its “uncultured, unsustainable behaviour” of clear felling. Nowhere does Grass accuse forestry workers of book burning as Halfpenny would have us believe. The actual paragraph by Grass reads: “To this day, fire-bombs are dropped over clearings to destroy what life and vegetation remains. This is inhumane. It is part of a failed, yet still dangerous, uncultured attitude, of which burning books is but one aspect, and poisoning animals and plants but another.” Would anyone accuse Halfpenny of despising Australian soldiers were he to write an antiwar statement about Howard’s involvement in Iraq? Of course not. In both cases, it is the government’s immoral attitudes towards the sanctity of life that is being attacked, not the decent fellow that has to shoulder either the gun or chain saw. He labels Gunter Grass’s writing as “outrageously dishonest and irrational”. In order to seek clarification, I have read Grass’s and Halfpenny’s two statements several times and I remain confounded over why Halfpenny is so vehemently opposed to what is a decent proscription of how we, as humans, as Tasmanians, might live. The only answer that seems to make sense is that, whereas Grass has grown into his senior years with a deepening sense of morality, Halfpenny is stuck somewhere between a street battle and senility.

Two days after the event and I want look at the long lasting significance of putting together the Peace Sunday prayer and celebration day. There is no doubt that those that came (around 50) enjoyed the day. Children and adults alike were all smiles as they basked in the palpable delight of the dancing prayer flags. The question I want to ask is whether or not these feelings were superficial; a light hearted good time equivalent to going to the city park with a picnic and flying a kite? Or, did they go deeper; penetrating an atavistic memory of our human connection to tribe, to earth, to spirit, allowing them to flow unimpeded without fear or mistrust? A form of healthy cleansing? Will the good will generated on Sunday still be lingering today, tomorrow, next week? Will some part of our soul/ the earth’s soul be healed because of the cumulative effect of intent, location, prayers, mood, weather and open hearts? During a storm last night, several of the flags broke away from the bamboo poles. By the end of the week I will take the rest of the 50 flags down and, like taking the Christmas tree ornaments down, will there be a bit of sadness mixing in with the memory of the festivities? During this lifetime, I desire to give birth to at least one angel; my own. And, if possible, to help others give birth to their angels. Unlike the Christmas angel that gets put into a box for the rest of the year, I hope that I can nurture and acknowledge my angel more frequently. Events like the Peace Sunday help with this.

Such a beautiful beginning to the day yesterday. People came to Windgrove, chose a flag and wrote their messages of peace. The sun soft; the air a gentle push against the yellow fabric; the sound of bamboo clacking. For a moment it all seemed permissible to shut out the cries of war, the cries of the wounded, and exhale a slow breath of forgiveness. Late in the morning I received a phone call that my sister, Angie, had been in a serious car accident; was hit by a car that ran a stop sign; rolled twice then was hit again by another car. It took four hours to cut her free. Her heart stopped. May my sister, Angie, recover fully. May she yet again experience the fullness of life; of her life. May the world recover fully. May all its inhabitants live a full completeness. May peace drop over us all.

This morning about an hour ago Tim (in well) and I placed 50 yellow banners in the 50 holders that run between the Peace Garden and the Peace Fire. As the day progresses, local families and families from Hobart will come to write their individual prayers for peace on each of the banners. The other photo shows neighboring friends around the dinner table last night sewing up the prayer flags/banners in preparation for today. Just this simple act of friends and children coming together to share in food, conversation and the making of a small community event is enough to warm the heart and reignite the sense that the human family is capable of kindness, compassion and generosity of spirit. Tomorrow, will bring more photos of today's activities.

Up, up and away. Two weeks ago she came bringing sand angels, an athletic ability to jog through the landscape each morning, a mental ability to become Windgrove's Scrabble champion, a visual artist's keen eye and hand to put on paper what she experienced, and, a heartfelt desire to use her talents to bring peace to this troubled world. This morning, Windgrove's latest refugee-in-residence, Melanie Mowinski, began her long flight back to the east coast of America. May she have a safe journey.

May we all have a safe journey whenever we head off to new experiences.

May we all have the courage to walk on new lands and be brave enough to discard our notions of reality for a little while, at least.

May we all return home and love in a deeper way those with whom we live and work.

May we all return home.

For over nine months I have been slowly working on a sculptural bench, "Christ and his followers on the Sea of Galilee", for a church minister in America. Eighteen stones loosely embedded in the wood will represent us humans; a heart shaped stone (compassion) in the middle will represent Christ. The basis of the concept for this piece comes from the Biblical quote: "Let ye without sin cast the first stone." Every human has a shadow side. My consistent prayer is that all of us humans can learn to work together, using ourselves (our stones) to build a foundation of love and trust throughout the world instead of throwing ourselves at each other with hatred and fear. What follows is a three minute speech I gave at "pub debate" last night in Hobart over the use of questionable tax payers money to fund the arts. Presently, in Tasmania there is a lot of debate centered around a government corporate enterprise, Forestry Tasmania, being a major sponsor of the Ten Days on the Island arts festival. Because Forestry Tasmania continues to clear fell old growth, ancient rainforests for wood chips and replant with monoculture plantations, many artists oppose what they view as governmental exploitation of the arts to propagandize the destruction of these forests. Three minutes is not sufficient to fully develope any sort of argument, but I hope you, the reader, can glean something from this speech. Ratbags -- three minutes -- Arts funding It seems that the managers of the arts and festival boards favour money over ethics. Lately, they have been trying to excuse their acceptance of tainted money by saying: “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”. By so doing they make superficial the great human quest to become a better person. I say: If you are going to quote the Bible, understand fully what you are quoting. Christ understood that all humans have a shadow side. And Christ would have understood that the paper to print the Bible comes from trees. But Christ would also say that paper made from clear felling old growth eco systems is a defilement of the divine creation. And Christ would have joined us artists to throw the money grubbers out of the sacred temple of tall trees. Jim Bacon, Robyn Archer and the 10 Day’s festival board might see the bagman as an indispensable part of the workings of the art world. But I say: "Not in Our Name.". The government wants to lure us in with a financial carrot. But we Tasmanians know that carrots, especially blue ones, are poison. Forestry sponsorship? Think twice. Here’s a biblical quote thal all should take to heart: "As ye sow so shall ye reap.". Why isn’t the foremost important aspect of 10 Days on the Island, not its funding, but its impact on the ethics and morality of the children and citizens of Tasmania? Playwight Henry Miller: “In any form of art, however trivial, there has to be a point of moral reference against which to gauge the action of our daily lives.” Tasmania shouldn’t be looking elsewhere for what constitutes world’s best practice. We should be the barometer by which the rest of the world judge their daily lives. Picasso said that art is not about decorating a wall. Art is war. It is not just entertainment. It is about changing the corrupt immorality of governments, corporations and society. It makes sense, therefore, that Tasmanian artists would become human shields protecting the forests from the actions of Forestry Tasmania. But, isn’t it all a stupid waste of time and talent on everyone’s part when artists have to be the human shields protecting the integrity of our arts festival from the actions of the festival board. Ten days on the Island should never have been a propaganda platform for the spin doctors to blind the public to the destructive excesses of their governments. In the end, it comes down to this for me. As a sculptor in wood, if I have to lose my source of material because of my outspoken stance against the mismanagement of our Tasmanian forests; if I fall foul of any arts grants board because of their alinement with government power brokers, then so be it. I will suffer the financial consequences because I would rather shoot off my mouth than shoot myself in the heart. If there is to be any “bottom line” to the festival, it has to be an ethical and moral one. Period. No debate.

About a twenty minute drive from Windgrove is Remarkable Cave, a sea tunnel that is entered into from the back side at low tide to gain access to the ocean. Standing in it yesterday, two much used phrases came to mind: "tunnel vision" and "the light at the end of the tunnel". Am I guilty of the former when I constantly seek to have the clear felled logging of old growth forests stopped? Is the pain of the thousands of animals poisened during these operations, along with the deliberate destruction of their ancient ecosystems, blinding me to a wider, more encompassing and tolerant vision? Or, is the Future Perfect exhibition which opened last week in Hobart (showcasing the work by more than 60 writers, artists and thinkers) pointing to a vision that offers some light at the end of today's dark age mentality of forestry mismanagement? It is a constant struggle to stay informed and fully aware of all that is happening around us when government and corporate spin doctors are relentless in their paid occupation to hide the full truth of their actions. It is enough to make one crawl into a cave and hide.

The dogs of war might seem to be a dominant force in the world today, but here, two days ago among the sand dunes of Roaring Beach during a lull in the bombing rains, the angelic mark of peace became visible.

Windgrove's latest refugee-in-residence, Melanie Mowinski, flew in from Massachesetts last Wednesday evening for a short two week stay and was met with heavy downpours, constant overcast skies and howling gale force winds. This morning, Tuesday, the sun dramatically reappeared in a cloudless, windless sky.

Melanie writes in her journal:
"The stormy-blowing and rainy weather of my first five days forced me inside to listen to, not only nature’s music, but to the words that form within me. Listening: such the challenge for me. Being quiet. Holding still. Not doing. Being. Being present. Being grateful. Feeling blessed. Slowing down. Letting the earth speak to me, learning to feel more (to feel, period, and not always be in my head) and intellectualize less."