Watermouse, Canaipa Island

This is the year the southern end of the island burnt. I took the two halves of the stone curtain that had hung in the Caboolture Gallery two years previously, into the blackened forest of the Watermouse, and hung it there. It appears as some kind of ethereal other, something angel like, foreign, but spectacularly countering the charred forest that was, in its own way, undeniably beautiful. THat same year, I spent some weeks, as part of a Canaipa Mudlines excursion, into Melomy's, where the fires had revealed incredible ochres and oxides from the earth, that made me want to build that series of mud houses around blackened saplings. 

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