the ’sham

This is the entry (posted one day before Easter 2006) in which I announce to the readership of the ’sham that I am considering breaking my self-imposed Petersham lockdown to visit my uncle Michael’s Darling Point house for Easter lunch. (The reason being that my dad was in town, and not in too great shape emotionally, and he’d especially asked me to come.)

Thus ensued, in the comments section, a debate on “fam versus sham” or “life versus art”, including comparisons with Joseph Beuys’ work “I love america and america loves me” (where, so the legend goes, he was blindfolded and refused to touch American soil).

Listen in here. [16min, 6mb, mp3]
…or you can hear the reading of this same episode as broadcast from Mystery Bay, down the NSW coast, where I have just travelled in a campervan. TRUE! Listen here. [8mb]

Original post is here.

…in which I read aloud an amusing letter (a thinly veiled satire of my ’sham project) left on my doorstep by Chris Fleming. It’s a short one, only 2 minutes. Get it here.

The original posting, including a scan of the letter, is here.

Anne sent through this email, just minutes ago. Without further ado, I pass it along.
Cheers
Lucas

- - - - -
bee longing
to: shortleftleg@yahoo.com

hey lucas. it’s sunday. the day after your opening. which offered a very meaty bit of bait to those of us who aren’t hooked yet. mind you, bit late to get hooked. but anyway, maybe the time for baiting is over and it’s the catch, we’re being shown now. hmmmm … that’s interesting. the ‘catch’. y’know, like ’so, what’s the catch?’. which is an expression of suspicion isn’t it? that there will be something required or asked of us. in legalistic terms, it’s a ‘consideration’. which skirts the notion of exchange. but i’m getting ahead of myself now. which isnt surprising, because these last few sentences were written AFTER the ones to follow, if you know what i mean. because this email is getting so long that i’m writing my way back INTO it. yeah, so as i was leaving (with hard copy of blog tucked under me arm, and mixing with the experience of the mayoral tour to warm me heart) i told you it made me feel glad/sad. you seemed puzzled by the ’sad’ bit. think i was too.
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Vanessa dropped this tiny cardboard package, the size of a matchbook, in my mailbox. I will take it to my Portuguese neighbours, two doors down, for interpretation…Any hints?
(”Creative” suggestions welcome).

The strangely warm weather during the days lately has been followed by rather chilly nights, and it’s got me. I’ve come down with a cold. I’m going to spend today in bed nursing my fuzzy head.

This might be a good time for those of you who have a moment to tell stories about YOUR Petersham. What happened over the weekend?

Exciting items in my mailbox this morning! A two page handwritten letter, and a list of “some secrets that may help you”.

This must be the reconstructed version of the note that Vanessa delivered two weeks ago, and which mysteriously disappeared. Inserted in the letter was a rabbit shape cut out of floral contact (the sticky stuff we used to cover books with at school). I stuck the rabbit on my mailbox, around the corner from my new “no junk mail” plaque.

Read the full letter over at my Flickr.

Sunanda Creagh has written an article about little ole me, here.

If you get the print copy of the paper, there’s a picture of Luciana and Wolfie and me rollerskating. Perhaps some clever bored person who steals time from their office job to read this will make themselves look busy scanning in the article and email it to me. Hint hint. Then I can post it up here and send you a thousand thanks. [NB! This has been done! Thanks to Lisa from North Petersham, and also to Sarah from the Marrickville Council.]

Oh, and if you’d like to compare stories…MY account of Sunanda’s visit to the ’sham is here.

Anyways, just in case the Herald website goes belly-up some time in the future, I’ll include a transcript of the article below. Hooroo.
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Bec offered to drive me, if I’d look up the address. I went out to her car to grab the directory. Marie and Chris were across the way, still fixing up Barbara’s flat. They waved me over.

“Hey, where are YOU going?” Marie asked. “We-e-ell”… I began. How could I do this? They were onto me.

The only thing for it was to come clean. I explained my dilemma, the importance of spending the day with my Dad, the idea of the blindfold as a “legal loophole” in my own rules. They thought about it. Chris felt it could work. “It’s true, family comes first, you should definitely go. But you HAVE to keep on the blindfold the WHOLE time.” Marie was less sure: “If you ask me, leaving is leaving, no matter whether you cover your eyes or not.” They were still debating it between themselves as I sat in the passenger seat putting one of Bec’s silk scarves over my eyes. I waved to them blindly as we drove off.
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…he he you just KNEW this was gonna happen, didn’t you…?

I’ve been made an offer to LEAVE THE ‘SHAM (temporarily of course), and I don’t know what to do.

I’m putting this up here, at midday on Saturday, and anyone who happens to be online has a little under 24 hours to chime in with an opinion.
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…left on my doorstep… [click for larger image]