Welcome to JvilleMs P (that is her on the white card – that symbolizes a canvas) borrowed $50 off me as a permanent loan without repayment or a gift. She headed down to Jville Mall looking for girly stuff. Anyway she spotted a canvas in the $2 – 19 Shop for $25 and promptly purchased it. Outside, Wellington’s fickle weather took over and Phil was almost whisked away a la Mary Poppins – she was a nanny too!
Staff in the Mall saw her plight and took the canvas back for storage until a suitable pick-up could be arranged. I did the following day and in the next 3-4 days in between work, sleep and play Welcome to Jville was painted.
From the top down:
Along the top is the usual Phi-sky plus a golden sun and highlighting Mt Kau Kau (Mount Holy Two Cows) in green oil and gold spray paint. Jade, a neighbour, turned up at an opportune moment when his Christmas 30 gm of tobacco was empty – with four pots of Resene paint samplers. (Kau Kau is our maunga or Mountain).
The tunnel represents emergence in a new beginning and the road flanking the railway line is lined with three Jville flags, each with a symbolic representation of Kau Kau. The line is one of the most scenic short trips in the world rising from NZ’s biggest and busiest rail terminal almost at sea level to the valley nestled in the foothills of Kau Kau – the trip includes tunnels, pretty Ngaio Gorge, hillside hugging houses and periodic glimpses of one of the world’s most beautiful harbour.
I moved to Jville in early 2006 as I was trying to recover from alcoholism. I suppose it was a completely different world to the one I left behind.
In the bottom right hand corner is the former industial part of Jville. Phil’s dad owns a factory there, hence the “”Factor E”” building. The others are a Gaudi and who knows, perhaps a developer with foresight will build something similar to give Jville center both heart and heritage
Gouache, oil paint, acrylic, spray paint, cardboard on canvas.
And for those who don't really want it, a poem about my Dad.
Gunner
It was said by some,
My dad had never become
What he wished to be;
Except that it seemed
When others weren’t
He was always free
He slaved for years
Deep beneath the mountain
Digging coals
For people in far-off lands
Of industrial soulless souls
And this he hadn’t planned
And over the years his body
Like a worn-out car
Wreck
Began to rust;
Inside, deep within
Himself his lungs filled
With the deadly dust
His voice crackled in his
Last years, mixed with
Coal dust and tobacco smoke;
No longer the tenor
Voice of his youth
Which had been the envy
Of all his peers
Seemed to suddenly
Disappear
And to me
My dad had become what
He wished to be;
He spent his last
Decade on a windswept
Beach in sunshine;
Far, far away from the dark
Of the mine
No longer a slave
To thieves of light and time
My dad had never become
What he wished to be;
Except that it seemed
When others weren’t
He was always free
He slaved for years
Deep beneath the mountain
Digging coals
For people in far-off lands
Of industrial soulless souls
And this he hadn’t planned
And over the years his body
Like a worn-out car
Wreck
Began to rust;
Inside, deep within
Himself his lungs filled
With the deadly dust
His voice crackled in his
Last years, mixed with
Coal dust and tobacco smoke;
No longer the tenor
Voice of his youth
Which had been the envy
Of all his peers
Seemed to suddenly
Disappear
And to me
My dad had become what
He wished to be;
He spent his last
Decade on a windswept
Beach in sunshine;
Far, far away from the dark
Of the mine
No longer a slave
To thieves of light and time
Well that is it for now in this practising becoming web efficient. I Googled Sananda and found a most interesting declaration about ascension. Worth a look. Will be blogging more poems, writings and paintings as I learn more about Spider Grandmother's world wide web. The Hopi have always been right.
inanga
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