Dear Santa
Save me from your followers. Puleese. That's all I ask.
Peace and joy,
Barbara
PS. On second thoughts, perhaps you could bring me more dragonflies to eat the sandflies which arrived last weekend after the recent rain. Dragonflies are my totem you know, so my Indigenous friends tell me. “Aunty” Kathy Murphy and the beautiful Suzanne Thompson of Gin~Murun~Gari taught me the dragonfly dance when we camped in the bush a few years ago. Don't suppose there are dragonflies at the North Pole, too cold.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
The Power of One
Andrew Forrest is a West Australian mining magnate who grew up in the bush. He was mentored by a Indigenous stockman and values their culture and wisdom. As a result in 2010 the Australian Employment Covenant (AEC) was formed. Www.fiftythousandjobs.com.au is an initiative aimed at securing 50,000 sustainable jobs for Indigenous Australians. It works along side Generation One to end disparity between Indigenous and non Indigenous Australians in one generation. Www.GenerationOne.org.au Andrew Forrest is making a difference.
My friend Shivanii Cameron is not a magnate, mining or otherwise. A documentary maker and teacher, she operates on a shoestring budget. Yet I consider her one of the richest women I know. About the same time as Andrew Forrest formed AEC, Shivani said “Yes” to starting an orphanage for 7 “Untouchable” children in India. Months later there is an orphanage, a school for 300 and teachers, a microfinance system for farmers wishing to buy seed to grow organic food and a village pump. That was the last time I checked. Like Andrew Forrest, Shivanii saw a weakness and looked for a solution.
Shivanii let her network of friends know she was helping to set up an orphanage and it snowballed from there. The fundraising efforts in and around the Sunshine Coast hinterland community of Maleny have put the fun into fundraising for the Prabhat Alloi Foundation. Check the latest on http://prabhatalloi.blogspot.com
Bicycles for Humanity is another great story of what can be achieved. For poverty stricken AIDS workers in Africa a bicycle can make a huge difference. And there are so many unused bicycles in wealthy countries around the world. Someone somewhere made the connection. Check out www.bicycles-for-humanity.org It is also another example of, “Just begin and the ways will open up.”
And then there is my sister-in-law Beth, who read about a Brisbane grandmother, mother and daughter who were homeless. They found assistance through 139 Club in Fortitude Valley. Beth visited the welfare centre for the homeless and learnt what they needed most were winter slippers and pyjamas for children. She emailed her friends who contributed enough to cover both winter and summer needs for the children catered to by 139 Club.
There are so many good power of one stories out there. I just wanted to share these that are particularly close to my heart right now.
Barbara Carseldine
watertools@gmail.com
www.knowingwater.com
10th November 2010
My friend Shivanii Cameron is not a magnate, mining or otherwise. A documentary maker and teacher, she operates on a shoestring budget. Yet I consider her one of the richest women I know. About the same time as Andrew Forrest formed AEC, Shivani said “Yes” to starting an orphanage for 7 “Untouchable” children in India. Months later there is an orphanage, a school for 300 and teachers, a microfinance system for farmers wishing to buy seed to grow organic food and a village pump. That was the last time I checked. Like Andrew Forrest, Shivanii saw a weakness and looked for a solution.
Shivanii let her network of friends know she was helping to set up an orphanage and it snowballed from there. The fundraising efforts in and around the Sunshine Coast hinterland community of Maleny have put the fun into fundraising for the Prabhat Alloi Foundation. Check the latest on http://prabhatalloi.blogspot.com
Bicycles for Humanity is another great story of what can be achieved. For poverty stricken AIDS workers in Africa a bicycle can make a huge difference. And there are so many unused bicycles in wealthy countries around the world. Someone somewhere made the connection. Check out www.bicycles-for-humanity.org It is also another example of, “Just begin and the ways will open up.”
And then there is my sister-in-law Beth, who read about a Brisbane grandmother, mother and daughter who were homeless. They found assistance through 139 Club in Fortitude Valley. Beth visited the welfare centre for the homeless and learnt what they needed most were winter slippers and pyjamas for children. She emailed her friends who contributed enough to cover both winter and summer needs for the children catered to by 139 Club.
There are so many good power of one stories out there. I just wanted to share these that are particularly close to my heart right now.
Barbara Carseldine
watertools@gmail.com
www.knowingwater.com
10th November 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
It's All In A Name
I have spent the day phoning around to find an adventurous soul to Executive Produce the film. The EP is the one who opens the doors for the money to flow, so they are very important cogs in the risky business of filmmaking. I am constantly amazed and delighted by how accessible and generous film people are.
After a fruitful and exciting day I need to wind down, not that it was particularly stressful as days go. Have you ever seen the Foxtel show Relocation, Relocation? That's the story of my life today. Having psyched myself up to leave the delights of sleepy Golden Beach and relocate down here, I find myself following my intuition and saying yes to moving to Brisbane next week instead, both for family and film reasons. Adapt, adapt, adapt.
So I take myself across the road to the Fountain Cafe. Sam's side of the road is upmarket Elizabeth Bay. The other side is Kings Cross. Instead of my daily walk, I will sit and enjoy the El Alamein Fountain. I'm hooked on all things water, as you may have noticed.
This is daylight saving at its best. I remember to breathe and slowly sip a chilled white wine and watch the passing parade. In the last month I have eaten at least two distinctly trendy cafes buzzing with life and beautiful people. Enough to know the customers here are not the trendy type. Rather they are simply locals enjoying a fine evening outdoors.
As we walked past the fountain recently, Sam reminded me of some family history I'd conveniently forgotten. Miss Four was seriously miffed because we adults did not take any notice when she likened the iconic fountain to a dandylion. And that is exactly what it looks like. A dandylion. A beautiful, watery dandylion.
The fountain was built to commemorate the battle of El Alamein in the Middle East in World War II. Pa, Sam's delightful grandfather, fought at El Alamein, and tonight he unexpectedly feels very close. He would be chuffed with today's decision. My father-in-law and I were great mates. As we worked outdoors on the farm he would tell me stories about the Middle East, before he met and married the beautiful Joan. He confided about war in the Western Desert, both the ugly and the funny, and his love life in occupied Syria. “Don't tell your mother,” he'd conclude. And I never did.
Does it ever strike you as odd that there are few monuments to our equally brave Aboriginees who were massacred by the European boat people? This is a sore point with some of my Indigenous acquaintances, and who can blame them.
Since my last visit I have read the hilarious Aunts Up The Cross by Robyn Dalton. Before her decrepit family home was demolished sometime after WW II, it stood on the very spot where the fountain is today. When my friends heard how much I enjoyed her book, they lent me Angel Puss by Colleen McCulloch, another good read about life here.
As I took a short cut along Kellett Street a couple of weeks ago I witnessed a very well dressed, forty-something man on his mobile phone, “If you don't pay me by tonight you will be in hospital tomorrow, with so many breaks in both your arms and legs you'd wish you were dead.” And he wasn't kidding. Needless to say I tried to make myself instantly invisible. Phew! I don't do Kellett Street any more.
Though it's obvious that the area has all been gentrified since Sam was a four year old, there's still enough local colour to show its underbelly occasionally.
Last Saturday the farmers' market took place beside the fountain in gale force, freezing winds which whipped little bits of “hair” of the huge old trees. The air was full of it. Personal experience has taught me that if you get ones of these little suckers in your throat it causes choking, like a severe asthma attack. Not pleasant. Much to my amusement, an enterprising young man from the local pharmacy was doing a roaring trade selling disposable face masks. So people went about their regular weekend activities adorned with masks. Strangely un-Australian it looked too.
This magnificent evening I enjoy the sense of place and nibble my way through a plate of nachos. The unexpectedly Asian take on the dish tickles my sense of humour. All the staff are of Asian cultural heritage which probably explains the lack of Mexican-ness. I wonder what their pizzas taste like.
But then so many things in Kings Cross are a little on the weird side. This is not good for real estate values it seems. From a real estate point of view it doesn't exist. The apartments for sale are in Potts Point, not Kings Cross, even though my Sydney guide book says Kings Cross and the railway station says Kings Cross.
It's all in a name.
Barbara Carseldine
watertools@gmail.com
www.knowingwater.com
After a fruitful and exciting day I need to wind down, not that it was particularly stressful as days go. Have you ever seen the Foxtel show Relocation, Relocation? That's the story of my life today. Having psyched myself up to leave the delights of sleepy Golden Beach and relocate down here, I find myself following my intuition and saying yes to moving to Brisbane next week instead, both for family and film reasons. Adapt, adapt, adapt.
So I take myself across the road to the Fountain Cafe. Sam's side of the road is upmarket Elizabeth Bay. The other side is Kings Cross. Instead of my daily walk, I will sit and enjoy the El Alamein Fountain. I'm hooked on all things water, as you may have noticed.
This is daylight saving at its best. I remember to breathe and slowly sip a chilled white wine and watch the passing parade. In the last month I have eaten at least two distinctly trendy cafes buzzing with life and beautiful people. Enough to know the customers here are not the trendy type. Rather they are simply locals enjoying a fine evening outdoors.
As we walked past the fountain recently, Sam reminded me of some family history I'd conveniently forgotten. Miss Four was seriously miffed because we adults did not take any notice when she likened the iconic fountain to a dandylion. And that is exactly what it looks like. A dandylion. A beautiful, watery dandylion.
The fountain was built to commemorate the battle of El Alamein in the Middle East in World War II. Pa, Sam's delightful grandfather, fought at El Alamein, and tonight he unexpectedly feels very close. He would be chuffed with today's decision. My father-in-law and I were great mates. As we worked outdoors on the farm he would tell me stories about the Middle East, before he met and married the beautiful Joan. He confided about war in the Western Desert, both the ugly and the funny, and his love life in occupied Syria. “Don't tell your mother,” he'd conclude. And I never did.
Does it ever strike you as odd that there are few monuments to our equally brave Aboriginees who were massacred by the European boat people? This is a sore point with some of my Indigenous acquaintances, and who can blame them.
Since my last visit I have read the hilarious Aunts Up The Cross by Robyn Dalton. Before her decrepit family home was demolished sometime after WW II, it stood on the very spot where the fountain is today. When my friends heard how much I enjoyed her book, they lent me Angel Puss by Colleen McCulloch, another good read about life here.
As I took a short cut along Kellett Street a couple of weeks ago I witnessed a very well dressed, forty-something man on his mobile phone, “If you don't pay me by tonight you will be in hospital tomorrow, with so many breaks in both your arms and legs you'd wish you were dead.” And he wasn't kidding. Needless to say I tried to make myself instantly invisible. Phew! I don't do Kellett Street any more.
Though it's obvious that the area has all been gentrified since Sam was a four year old, there's still enough local colour to show its underbelly occasionally.
Last Saturday the farmers' market took place beside the fountain in gale force, freezing winds which whipped little bits of “hair” of the huge old trees. The air was full of it. Personal experience has taught me that if you get ones of these little suckers in your throat it causes choking, like a severe asthma attack. Not pleasant. Much to my amusement, an enterprising young man from the local pharmacy was doing a roaring trade selling disposable face masks. So people went about their regular weekend activities adorned with masks. Strangely un-Australian it looked too.
This magnificent evening I enjoy the sense of place and nibble my way through a plate of nachos. The unexpectedly Asian take on the dish tickles my sense of humour. All the staff are of Asian cultural heritage which probably explains the lack of Mexican-ness. I wonder what their pizzas taste like.
But then so many things in Kings Cross are a little on the weird side. This is not good for real estate values it seems. From a real estate point of view it doesn't exist. The apartments for sale are in Potts Point, not Kings Cross, even though my Sydney guide book says Kings Cross and the railway station says Kings Cross.
It's all in a name.
Barbara Carseldine
watertools@gmail.com
www.knowingwater.com
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A FILMMAKER
Sometime after 3am the tenant upstairs arrives home. He is quiet enough. The challenge is that the floorboards in his Art Deco apartment creak, though they are not as noisy as the possums in the roof back home. Sleep evades me for hours it seems. Just when I am blissfully out to it, my mobile beeps a text message from No One daughter in Paris. It is exactly 6 am. Just as well Sam texted, because I'd forgotten to turn on the alarm. Phew! Then we chat for an hour on Skype. Bless technology.
The email I have been waiting for is in the inbox. Great. I train train to North Sydney, meet with Alan Harkness, our script editor and consultant, and train back to the city in search of the simplest piece of the film jigsaw. A suitable presentation folder for the screenplay. You wouldn't believe the variety of folders, but none as good as the one I have been shown. The challenge is that Alan can't recall where he bought it. I explore the stationery shops of Sydney CBD and find a couple of folders almost as good. Success at last. Back at Elizabeth Bay the sun is out at last as I work my way down my To Do list.
I decide to attend an evening art show in nearby Paddington. I daren't take Mr Skittles, Sam's Smart car, because parking here and there is such a challenge. The walk will do me good and has the added benefit of being sustainable.
Just as I arrive at the gallery Alan phones with bad news. He's discovered an error in our scene numbering. Bizarrely, we have two scene thirties. The dodgy, ancient TAFE-invented software beloved of impoverished writers has bitten me on the proverbial. What is adequate for a rainmaker is not for a filmmaker. I will have to delay meetings till I can renumber the scenes manually, a time consuming occupation, and print off the correct version. What a blow. Thank goodness Alan found the error. Wouldn't want to look unprofessional and all that.
I remind myself of my favourite Winston Churchill speech. “Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.” And for some obscure reason I remember the wisdom of Shogun. Patience. The mindset of an Olympic athlete and the organisational ability of a wedding planner are definitely at the top of the list of requirements of film producers.
The art is very intellectual. The subject matter is “Adaptation” from novel to film. I am interested because, like Steven Speilberg, movies were the literature of my youth. Some pieces are witty, many are incomprehensible to me. None move me the way most Indigenous art does. Conversation is impossible because of the decibel level. Judging by the noise, the event is a success. I leave before the official opening.
The highlight of my oh so quiet journey home is finding a lemon myrtle tree near Trumper Oval. Gubbi Gubbi elder, Bev Hand, says that lemon myrtle makes a great tea and also an antiseptic good for sore throats. So my journey is not in vain.
Oh so quiet, that is until I reach Kings Cross. I eye off the pie shop and pizza places, but simply cannot make up my mind. Comfort food is definitely calling. To my joy back at Sam's apartment I find a tin of Heinz baked beans. Baked beans on good rye toast, sprinkled with tasty grated cheese. Sophisticated it ain't. Yum. Food fit for the gods.
I am so grateful that the elders asked me to co-produce Liquid Assets. What a journey!
The email I have been waiting for is in the inbox. Great. I train train to North Sydney, meet with Alan Harkness, our script editor and consultant, and train back to the city in search of the simplest piece of the film jigsaw. A suitable presentation folder for the screenplay. You wouldn't believe the variety of folders, but none as good as the one I have been shown. The challenge is that Alan can't recall where he bought it. I explore the stationery shops of Sydney CBD and find a couple of folders almost as good. Success at last. Back at Elizabeth Bay the sun is out at last as I work my way down my To Do list.
I decide to attend an evening art show in nearby Paddington. I daren't take Mr Skittles, Sam's Smart car, because parking here and there is such a challenge. The walk will do me good and has the added benefit of being sustainable.
Just as I arrive at the gallery Alan phones with bad news. He's discovered an error in our scene numbering. Bizarrely, we have two scene thirties. The dodgy, ancient TAFE-invented software beloved of impoverished writers has bitten me on the proverbial. What is adequate for a rainmaker is not for a filmmaker. I will have to delay meetings till I can renumber the scenes manually, a time consuming occupation, and print off the correct version. What a blow. Thank goodness Alan found the error. Wouldn't want to look unprofessional and all that.
I remind myself of my favourite Winston Churchill speech. “Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.” And for some obscure reason I remember the wisdom of Shogun. Patience. The mindset of an Olympic athlete and the organisational ability of a wedding planner are definitely at the top of the list of requirements of film producers.
The art is very intellectual. The subject matter is “Adaptation” from novel to film. I am interested because, like Steven Speilberg, movies were the literature of my youth. Some pieces are witty, many are incomprehensible to me. None move me the way most Indigenous art does. Conversation is impossible because of the decibel level. Judging by the noise, the event is a success. I leave before the official opening.
The highlight of my oh so quiet journey home is finding a lemon myrtle tree near Trumper Oval. Gubbi Gubbi elder, Bev Hand, says that lemon myrtle makes a great tea and also an antiseptic good for sore throats. So my journey is not in vain.
Oh so quiet, that is until I reach Kings Cross. I eye off the pie shop and pizza places, but simply cannot make up my mind. Comfort food is definitely calling. To my joy back at Sam's apartment I find a tin of Heinz baked beans. Baked beans on good rye toast, sprinkled with tasty grated cheese. Sophisticated it ain't. Yum. Food fit for the gods.
I am so grateful that the elders asked me to co-produce Liquid Assets. What a journey!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Healing Power of Indigenous Art
What a long weekend of Indigenous art! While I haven't seen the new Indigenous galleries in Canberra, I did dive wholeheartedly into art + soul at the Art Gallery of New South Wales www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au
One of the joys of living at Elizabeth Bay, albeit temporarily, is being able to walk to the Art Gallery in fifteen minutes and enjoy Sydney Harbour on the way, so I literally celebrated Aboriginal art and culture. There were artists and performers from all over the country and my biggest challenge was deciding which venue to attend. And it was all free.
Hetti Perkins, the curator of Indigenous art, is to be congratulated. What joy, what energy reverberated around the complex. It was also a privilege to attend a preview of ABC's new three part documentary series art + soul which goes to air in Australia on Thursday October 7th at 8.30pm. This was introduced by producer Bridget Ikin of Hibiscus Films and Warwick Thornton of Samson & Delilah fame. He is the director and cinematographer and Hetti Perkins the writer and presenter.
The DVD and book of the series are both on my immediate wish list. Awesome storytelling. Great documentary making. As a filmmaker I am in awe of www.hibiscusfilms.com.au
One of the things I value about Indigenous art is its mystical ability to transport me to country and the magic it has brought into my life. The screenplay Liquid Assets encapsulates this beautifully, if I do say so myself, as does the my co-producer Suzanne Thompton's prize winning art, which will be used in the film.
So I was absolutely delighted to hear Ngathi Gulumbu Yunupingu, an internationally recognised artist and elder, speak so powerfully of the healing power of Indigenous art. “When you look at it you are healed.” Wow!
This is my wish for Liquid Assets. When you look at it you are not only entertained, you are healed. I can feel the film unfolding as I write.
And yes, I did “eat clouds” each day, and miraculously the showers held off just when I wanted to walk over and again when I walked home. An added source of amusement, an added bonus.
One of the joys of living at Elizabeth Bay, albeit temporarily, is being able to walk to the Art Gallery in fifteen minutes and enjoy Sydney Harbour on the way, so I literally celebrated Aboriginal art and culture. There were artists and performers from all over the country and my biggest challenge was deciding which venue to attend. And it was all free.
Hetti Perkins, the curator of Indigenous art, is to be congratulated. What joy, what energy reverberated around the complex. It was also a privilege to attend a preview of ABC's new three part documentary series art + soul which goes to air in Australia on Thursday October 7th at 8.30pm. This was introduced by producer Bridget Ikin of Hibiscus Films and Warwick Thornton of Samson & Delilah fame. He is the director and cinematographer and Hetti Perkins the writer and presenter.
The DVD and book of the series are both on my immediate wish list. Awesome storytelling. Great documentary making. As a filmmaker I am in awe of www.hibiscusfilms.com.au
One of the things I value about Indigenous art is its mystical ability to transport me to country and the magic it has brought into my life. The screenplay Liquid Assets encapsulates this beautifully, if I do say so myself, as does the my co-producer Suzanne Thompton's prize winning art, which will be used in the film.
So I was absolutely delighted to hear Ngathi Gulumbu Yunupingu, an internationally recognised artist and elder, speak so powerfully of the healing power of Indigenous art. “When you look at it you are healed.” Wow!
This is my wish for Liquid Assets. When you look at it you are not only entertained, you are healed. I can feel the film unfolding as I write.
And yes, I did “eat clouds” each day, and miraculously the showers held off just when I wanted to walk over and again when I walked home. An added source of amusement, an added bonus.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Bring On The Ceremonies
Earlier this year our Indigenous people demonstrated great leadership in being proactive re the appalling state of the Murray and Darling River systems. Over allocation of irrigation water, questionable water management practices and prolonged severe drought had combined to threaten entire eco systems along the length and breadth of the two great rivers and their tributaries.
For more information on the plight of the wetlands at the mouth of the Murray River see www.lakesneedwater.org
While farmers went broke, or sold their water licences to foreign investors to pay off the bank, whole communities along the rivers were dying. Everyone waited for politicians of all persuasions, or any persuasion, to demonstrate leadership.
Then up to the plate stepped some Indigenous leaders who called for ceremonies the entire length of the catchments. And boy did they ever hit a home run! The results speak for themselves. Both the Murray and the Darling Rivers have been in flood in recent weeks. The wonderful website www.murrundi.org explains the need for ceremony and is a great source of information.
Do you recall the theme of the New Zealand film Whale Rider? The leaders we are seeking are already among us. Ain't that the truth.
Our Indigenous people have a sixty thousand year wisdom tradition and understand well that good science backs the power of ceremony and sacred song. (See blog Feb 13 2009 for more on the power of Indigenous ceremony.)
So I am very grateful for their leadership which has guaranteed a joyful return to health for these river systems, the lifeblood of this ancient country.
Bring on the ceremonies. Bring on the songs. Bring on the stories. Our beautiful planet and all her peoples needs all the help they can get.
From little things big things grow...
For more information on the plight of the wetlands at the mouth of the Murray River see www.lakesneedwater.org
While farmers went broke, or sold their water licences to foreign investors to pay off the bank, whole communities along the rivers were dying. Everyone waited for politicians of all persuasions, or any persuasion, to demonstrate leadership.
Then up to the plate stepped some Indigenous leaders who called for ceremonies the entire length of the catchments. And boy did they ever hit a home run! The results speak for themselves. Both the Murray and the Darling Rivers have been in flood in recent weeks. The wonderful website www.murrundi.org explains the need for ceremony and is a great source of information.
Do you recall the theme of the New Zealand film Whale Rider? The leaders we are seeking are already among us. Ain't that the truth.
Our Indigenous people have a sixty thousand year wisdom tradition and understand well that good science backs the power of ceremony and sacred song. (See blog Feb 13 2009 for more on the power of Indigenous ceremony.)
So I am very grateful for their leadership which has guaranteed a joyful return to health for these river systems, the lifeblood of this ancient country.
Bring on the ceremonies. Bring on the songs. Bring on the stories. Our beautiful planet and all her peoples needs all the help they can get.
From little things big things grow...
Thursday, September 16, 2010
RAINMAKER MEETS FILMMAKER
On 26th January, in response to my cultural cringe at white Australians driving round in cars with Australian flags stuck on the window, I took myself to the movies to see Bran Nue Dae. It was just the tonic this white chick needed. A couple of weeks later I returned with friends to see it again and enjoyed it just as much the second time around.
The Australian box office reflected this, a credit to the vision of director, Rachel Perkins, the producers, cast and crew. This week I was absolutely delighted to find a fantastic review in the LA Times.
http://articles.latimes.com/2010/Sep/10/entertainment/la-et-bran-nue-dae-20100910
It is great to see an Australian film that travels well. What was even better was that the reviewer understood the context, which is more than could be said for the reviewer on Triple J.
So why is a rainmaker writing about filmmaking? Because currently, when I'm not rainmaking or eating clouds, I am a filmmaker. A powerful young Indigenous lore woman, Suzanne Thompson, and I are forming Murubakgira Productions to make the feature film Liquid Assets.
I began the screenplay some 15 years ago, thinking it was going to be a mainstream comedy about an art con which takes place in drought stricken, outback Australia. Somewhere along the way I realised the characters and the country itself had taken over and that the screenplay was writing me, as it were. Then I met an Indigenous rainmaker and experienced the miracle of rainmaking and so began the series of amazing “coincidences” which has resulted in Liquid Assets. Both the film and Murubakgira Productions have the blessings of the Central Australian elders who have asked me to walk this journey beside the beautiful Suz. They are the ones who called me the rainmaker some years ago.
Next week I am off to Sydney to take the next step along the road to a successful international feature film. What a privilege. What a magical, mystical journey. Thank you Bran Nue Dae for paving the way.
PS. the DVD of Bran Nue Dae is currently available on http://www.donedirtcheap.com.au/
The Australian box office reflected this, a credit to the vision of director, Rachel Perkins, the producers, cast and crew. This week I was absolutely delighted to find a fantastic review in the LA Times.
http://articles.latimes.com/2010/Sep/10/entertainment/la-et-bran-nue-dae-20100910
It is great to see an Australian film that travels well. What was even better was that the reviewer understood the context, which is more than could be said for the reviewer on Triple J.
So why is a rainmaker writing about filmmaking? Because currently, when I'm not rainmaking or eating clouds, I am a filmmaker. A powerful young Indigenous lore woman, Suzanne Thompson, and I are forming Murubakgira Productions to make the feature film Liquid Assets.
I began the screenplay some 15 years ago, thinking it was going to be a mainstream comedy about an art con which takes place in drought stricken, outback Australia. Somewhere along the way I realised the characters and the country itself had taken over and that the screenplay was writing me, as it were. Then I met an Indigenous rainmaker and experienced the miracle of rainmaking and so began the series of amazing “coincidences” which has resulted in Liquid Assets. Both the film and Murubakgira Productions have the blessings of the Central Australian elders who have asked me to walk this journey beside the beautiful Suz. They are the ones who called me the rainmaker some years ago.
Next week I am off to Sydney to take the next step along the road to a successful international feature film. What a privilege. What a magical, mystical journey. Thank you Bran Nue Dae for paving the way.
PS. the DVD of Bran Nue Dae is currently available on http://www.donedirtcheap.com.au/
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Eating Clouds
Why would anyone want to eat clouds? Well, I am reliably informed that Canadian Native American women "eat clouds" when the weather is wet and they want to dry their washing. It's that simple. That's their motivation and, amazingly, it guarantees them dry clothes.
I was already a rainmaker when I made this discovery. I just hadn't thought too much about the reverse, so I began trying this technique a few years ago during our wet season. I didn't tell anyone what I was doing so that their doubts couldn't impact on my experiment. I simply walked outside, looked at the washing on the clothes line and pretended to eat clouds. I munched 'em. My intention was that I was eating clouds to dry my washing. The results were amazing. Washing dried on my clothes line, even when it was raining at the end of the street. By the time my technique had worked a few dozen times I felt confident enough to share it with others. Like rainmaking it's all about the organisation of cells, quantum physics by any other name.
Recently I received my first newsletter from www.patricenewell.com.au concerning their forthcoming garlic crop. Now I am love great garlic, both for flavour and for its health benefits, and I can guarantee that Patrice's garlic is one of the very best. The only thing threatening this year's garlic November crop is – wait for it – too much rain, or hail storms. Usually it's not enough rain, but this year it's too much. Such are the joys of being a farmer.
So I dashed off an email to Patrice to share the proven technique I'd learnt from an amazing Native American woman. For garlic's sake, or rather for the sake of my garlic order, I hope someone down on the farm gives it a go! It's so easy.
Have some fun with it yourself. After all, if you usually use a clothes dryer in wet weather eating clouds not only saves you money, it's kinder to the planet as well because it is sustainable. There are no carbon emissions from eating clouds.
And, if you are very lucky, I may save some of my garlic to share with you.
Barbara Carseldine
watertools@gmail.com
www.knowingwater.com
Sept 10th 2010
Why would anyone want to eat clouds? Well, I am reliably informed that Canadian Native American women "eat clouds" when the weather is wet and they want to dry their washing. It's that simple. That's their motivation and, amazingly, it guarantees them dry clothes.
I was already a rainmaker when I made this discovery. I just hadn't thought too much about the reverse, so I began trying this technique a few years ago during our wet season. I didn't tell anyone what I was doing so that their doubts couldn't impact on my experiment. I simply walked outside, looked at the washing on the clothes line and pretended to eat clouds. I munched 'em. My intention was that I was eating clouds to dry my washing. The results were amazing. Washing dried on my clothes line, even when it was raining at the end of the street. By the time my technique had worked a few dozen times I felt confident enough to share it with others. Like rainmaking it's all about the organisation of cells, quantum physics by any other name.
Recently I received my first newsletter from www.patricenewell.com.au concerning their forthcoming garlic crop. Now I am love great garlic, both for flavour and for its health benefits, and I can guarantee that Patrice's garlic is one of the very best. The only thing threatening this year's garlic November crop is – wait for it – too much rain, or hail storms. Usually it's not enough rain, but this year it's too much. Such are the joys of being a farmer.
So I dashed off an email to Patrice to share the proven technique I'd learnt from an amazing Native American woman. For garlic's sake, or rather for the sake of my garlic order, I hope someone down on the farm gives it a go! It's so easy.
Have some fun with it yourself. After all, if you usually use a clothes dryer in wet weather eating clouds not only saves you money, it's kinder to the planet as well because it is sustainable. There are no carbon emissions from eating clouds.
And, if you are very lucky, I may save some of my garlic to share with you.
Barbara Carseldine
watertools@gmail.com
www.knowingwater.com
Sept 10th 2010
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