I was writing the second in my series on fissures and divides in Australian politics. I started about six, but found it slow going because of the topic plus the need to check links.
About ten, I went out to buy some coffee and a little stuff for dinner. Walking back from the shop up a side way I had a fall. My right foot caught is some plastic wrapping used in packing sticking out from behind a barricade and I went down quite heavily.
A nice Chinese family helped me up. I wasn't hurt beyond abrasions and a sore leg, but I was shaken up. Both the coffee and the curry paste bottles were broken, so I came home in a down mood.I then found I couldn't concentrate. I ended up putting the post aside and read a book. Still restless and unwilling to think of serious things, feeling in need of a cheer up, I decided to visit the New England Regional Art Museum site. There is something soothing about art when you are feeling down.
The Art of Wool Exhibition.
I love wool. I grew up when Australia was still seen as riding on the sheep's back. More importantly, I grew up in a wool growing area.
I was a townie, not a country person, but I had family and friends who were on the land, so I had a fair bit of contact with sheep from an early age.
I quickly formed the view, one that I have never changed, that sheep were remarkably silly animals. Lambs were silly too, but very endearing. While sheep were silly, I wasn't frightened of them. This compares with an early experience with a goose with young who was just about as big as I was then. That was scary, frightening to the point that I can still remember it clearly now.
As kids, we used to run up to the shearing shed to play. There were the shearing machines, the races, the wood floors stained with grease. The wool presses for making the bails. Sometimes, if we were lucky, we were there during shearing.
This 1933 Robert Johnson painting, part of the NERAM permanent collection, is included in The Age of Wool Exhibition.
Later, I wore wool by preference when I could. I loved the thick woolen jumpers, the wool suits were nice on the skin. With research, wool became more versatile, some of the textiles lighter.My new suit has a little cashmire, but is a lovely, smooth, comfortable clothing.
This last illustration shows another exhibit in The Art of Wool Exhibition.
I am well aware of the economic forces and of policy responses such as the reserve price scheme. However, that is not a sufficient explanation.
Rightly or wrongly, I blame the decline in part on that dreaded policy instability that seems to affect government, the desire to apply new models and principles to things that are actually working quite well.
I must leave this post here. My leg is still sore, but working my way through the reproductions while writing this post has restored my sense of equilibrium.
The exhibition finishes on 2 August. Get there if you can.