We hope to stumble across you one day again.
*hint: it’s a 2 digit number.
We hope to stumble across you one day again.
*hint: it’s a 2 digit number.
Two men were first up. New to Vic Park & keen to explore their new local market.
Then a bearded dad with kind eyes & his mermaid daughter.
Their bond strong and caring.
A mum and daughter who confidently found us.
And a peer, who wrote a very touching note.
A boy left his three family members to do do some community good (but later returned).
Each of them seemed to enjoy their moment.
Despite some tears.I was blown some kisses from a small non-attendee.
And another special small one danced with me while her Dad and rabbit took their moment.
Dozens of golden marigolds in white paper passed by…
Ready to find their new homes.
A weary & very still bee decided to hang on my shoulder for about an hour.
While I pet dog after dog.
We decided the best of events have children, dogs and plants together!
A concentrating girl in a pink dress with a mum that listened to her kindly.
A woman who gave me such a big hug and thanks.
An english mum and her two wriggling girls who calmed and listened once the music began.
And a toddler mother who tried repeatedly to have her moment, finally managed to make it happen.
Some people were sent by word of mouth.
And others curious by the queue.
A man who’d watched us all day gave us some jam as a gift.
And a curious boy dragged his dad inside while his siblings jealously peeked.
And then two girls, who mesmerised by the typewriter wrote essays upon it.
Thank you Vic Park for a beautiful season.
Your notes are a-ready to read too.
You thought & felt deep.
It’s been far too long between outings!
As soon as we arrived there were nosy noses opening & shutting & peeking.
Two little ones, particularly, loitering from across the road in anticipation.
As soon as the mask was on, they appeared with their dad ready to discover what this was all about.
The birds tweeted us a welcome as we sat under the beautiful tree.
A special friend was next. He stood awkwardly waiting but I think found his moment. I hope so.
Followed by another friend. Who, like many-an-empath found herself unexpectedly moved to tears.
An impatient toddler beamed at entering, but it was hard for her to leave.
I coaxed her out with a shoe discovery.
The lady who made our Vic Park visit a-happen finally got to see what she’d programmed.
And the autumn leaves fell all a-while.
Then a pause and some chats with locals, keen to talk but not stop for aMoment.
A beautiful dog wanted some love, but was disconcerted by the mask. Fair enough.
The umbrellas became useful as the blankets of water fell from the sky.
A man from the north, used to desert and spinifex, stopped to listen.
All a-while taking his moment smoking.
He made me ponder if people have lost routine big-thinking moments with the quitting of this (albeit unhealthy) tradition?
A Freo woman, open to a new experience found her moment poignant I think.
Then another independent woman with a European accent found time for her moment.
It’s women like these two that I want to grow up to be.
A cocky screeched.
And I was handed watermelon by a passing stranger.
I fell for a patient child with monster socks.
While another gave me a double thumbs up.
And a girl of about 9 broke my heart a little, hearing her moment had made her worry about her future…
An unexpected but realistic outcome to giving moments to sensitive beings at that age.
A woman returned 3 hours later with her grandson.
He was scared of what was inside. A person? A magic trick? Something scary?
His relief beamed far.
And sometimes we come across someone who just “fits” the caravan somehow.
Our last visitor was just this type.
Be brave we both said. Be brave.
Ps. you will find us at Victoria Park Farmers Market next Sunday for Day 2 of 2. Let those that need moments know. xx
What a blue sky! What a buzz at the festival.You could almost hear brains expanding as difficult subjects were wrestled with in and out of the lecture theatre.
We, however, were for the quiet moments.
The place to escape.
Our first visitor was exactly this. An organiser of the festival, she wanted a quiet moment before the day began.
A wandering man who happened to be passing asked if he was allowed.
Everyone is allowed a moment we thought.
A hug from a girl who recommended us a book.
A curious daughter & inquisitive mother.
A quiet boy who’s softly spoken stops working to have a moment.
A puppy (finally) comes by for a pat.
So few have reached us.
We’re used to giving lots of pats.
Our main visitor has been bees and wasps.
They seem to be very healthy in Margaret River.
And attracted to white!
A family of four escaping Melbourne’s winter have a moment in sunshine.
Broome for them next.
We whisper to the caravan maybe that should be our next visit?
Some freshly new Australian citizens took time for a moment each.
A man with pool floats and quite a story of healing warmed us a bit.
Alas, no glasses! So a pause to find them in the car and then returned.
He hoped for a moment of meditation.”Reflective” is what he called it.
Six children arrive with such energy!It takes a little while for them to settle and be.
But once they are – I know they’ll enjoy their moment.
Two best friends hold hands as they listen.
A woman says she’s what she needed, what she was looking for today.
An older couple smiled and reminded me of young love and mischief.A woman snuck in just as we were considering packing up after a slow while.
We’re glad she did.
A 10 year old made a point of telling me goodbye as she left.
“I loved your caravan,” she said.
There certainly have been some wise younger ones at this festival.
And a festival inviting discussion about the big things.
It was a hopeful weekend.
Thank you Margaret River.
We hope to see you again sometime.
Books + trees + beaches. Sounds like our kind of nook. As part of the Margaret River Arts Festival.
Under a beautiful forrest artwork by Tony Pankiw.
And across from a silver caravan. With succulents.
With readers and writers entering the caravan.
What a match.
It began with a mother and her yellow flowery daughter.
Then a photographer. And another. And another.A white-
haired couple chose to share their moment together.
We were worried they wouldn’t enjoy it as much. We shouldn’t have.
A marvel of a girl with an old soul says thank you. And returns later to have another moment. She brings her mother this time, who is hesitant, but then insists her son does it too.
The rain sprinkles.A lady in red boots takes refuge in the caravan. “I could have stayed all day” she said.
A lady in black types with energy and pace. We love the sound.
A man in a white suit and blue stars sang.
And people gather, peeking and pondering at lunch time wondering what we are.
A woman remarks “that sounds just like my grand daughter” as she began her moment.
We’re visited by a giraffe.
We learn from her flyer that giraffes “have the biggest heart of any land animal and it has a top down view of what’s going on.”
Now you have too.
The afternoon continues with lots of vistors having been sent by others.
And a rave fro Isablle Li.
A seagull child with chips and a sticker that makes my heart swell. He enters with his mother. Then later his gran. It’s hard to remove him.
The man in stars returned, asking if his note was magic.
He had a plan. For Kerry O’Brien.
We wonder if it worked.
A moment of respite for the festival’s director – we’re always happy if they can make time for us.
Then a girl in checks who teared up.
And another woman too.
It was odd that it was only at the end that we saw tears.
And finally a strong woman in a mobility chair arrived.
The caravan isn’t the most accessible – but we try and make it happen for anyone in some way.
We think she got something. We think.
Two school children were selected by trust-friendly teachers while their class wandered a bit further on.
Then, a daughter did not want to enter.
After a good amount of cajoling by her mother, she agreed.
Delighted by her moment she even convinced a curious passer-by to be our next audience.
A concerned City of Mandurah workee was worried about getting us wet.
We talked a while and he found time for a moment.
A group of 19yr old boys approached. One is brave and indicated to his friends to be quiet.
His experience was passed on to them
“it was actually really good”
“really important for you guys”
“a changed man.”
Our heart swelled.
A japanese woman, her daughter and Momo the deaf blue heeler visited.
We have a chat about japan, and life here and moments.
A wise man in a 9 yr old’s body attended with his Mum.
He speaks with surety and insight. “Thank you. I really needed that moment” he tells me.
His mum, strong and warm turns to me later and
explains he’s a bit different to most kids – and thus home schooled. She was grateful for his moment too:
“It took me a while to realise how special I am.”
And our heart swelled for the second time.
A man spied and questioned what we were.
“Philosophical?” he asked.
Kind of, we said.
He walks away. Then with purpose returns.
He’s a thinker, we think.
And that’s the end of our time in Mandurah.
We’re gone. We’re done.
114 notes written.
Will always be there to be read.
Deciphered. Remembered. Reminded.
Thank you Mandurah.
A mother beelines her teen to have aMoment, having experienced it herself earlier this week. She’s off school to get her P-plates. A good day to we think.
Someone we have waved consistently to over the last 4 days finally stops.
“I just had to know what it is!” he explained.
This is also the case of a girl who has circled us a few times:
“Curiosity got the better of me” she says.
Another two ladies bring a friend along, their interest piqued on Sunday at Stretch Festival.
We and they are glad they returned.
“I set an alarm at 11am every day to remind myself to be grateful and say thanks”.
Autumn is here. You can see it in the leaves.
A baby waves them like wings while her parents each have their moment.
A girl with autism comes with her carer.
She wants her note to be private. We ensure it is.
Her carer is surprised she engaged so well.
We know it’s just about having a private space…or at least we think it is.
A woman in blue magnetised to the caravan.
She appeared in a reverie from the first note.
Today is for the curious.
Thank you curious ones.
May you always be.
A very quiet day.
A day of waves and smiles and conversations.
But few stopping.
Which always makes us a little sad.
Sad that people don’t have space in their lives to stop.
But it’s also the weather.
And, well, life.
We start the day with watching 7 pelicans flying above. So far yet still so big.
They are amazing birds.
The MPAC ducks are still there.
Just the two of them.
A lady shares an ice cream on a nearby bench. Then curiosity gets the better of her and she says hello. She types her note perched – experiencing the caravan despite a sore hip.
A mother and her 4yr old monster share a moment. He is truly brave to be only wearing a monster tee in this wind.
Two council friends in warm boots stop by. One forms tears. One talks of the Mandurah bridge. We love learning about Mandurah.
A to-be actress and her parents um and ah about entering but decide not.
We wave at 1, 2, 50, 100 people today.
The small moments keep us going.
A lot of space in the precinct without Stretch Festival.
A very quiet, different feel.
Only traces of hearts and detritus.
And with a little bit of cloud and wind, the caravan is positively a cosy retreat.
We began with an artist working with the homeless. Obviously a special soul, she thanked us through tears and noted how positive the notes are.
Visitors from Rockingham had a sweet moment (with byo ice cream) as they took turns.
A group of seven peeked and exclaimed with only one keen to enter.
A seagull poked around, scrounging for food we think.
And the two resident MPAC lake ducks flapped and snuggled throughout the day.
A curious couple decided to change their plans and stop. And we had an inner yay.
A returnee from the weekend came to record another moment.
Two ladies speaking german came to investigate, one deciding to enter just so that we didn’t look so lonely. (whatever works, we think!) She was tickled we think.
A woman is dropped off by a knowing friend, and cries before she even enters.
A traveller with golden clips in her hair has a child-like energy as she skittles into the caravan. She announces afterwards she’s currently living in a caravan, living the dream around Australia. Lucky duck.
A woman refused to enter because she had a dog in tow. She told us of previous art projects in the area, including a fisherman sculpture that had its foot lopped off. She promised to come back with a photo. I hope she does.
And lastly a father and daughter came running, not wanting to miss out. We felt important that they had. I’m not sure we were what they expected.
Until tomorrow Mandurah, we will be there from 11 till 3.30 till Friday.
Hope to see you.
There was something in the air today.
Vulnerability? The moon? Something.
We haven’t had this many tears in a long while:
The first was a mother in white with two boys.
Then a woman in a grey dress.
Then special man who brought us to this festival.
A writer who announced she would be 81.
And a mother who was struggling with a daughter more interested in her phone.
She decided to leave her daughter outside. (Good decision)
And her daughter looked in puzzlement as to why her mum was crying when she came out.
Because, she said. Just because.
A lady with a spanish accent came and could have stayed forever.
Her son, with a wry smile, enjoyed it too.
A red haired volunteer for the festival shooed away her friends so she could have her moment.
And one brave girl, later, did the same to her bunch of friends who loitered around.
We watched a duck chase some fish in a circle under water.
Ah, the magic of nature. Those ducks can swim fast.
A twenty something boy looked calm and smiling as he closed his eyes and listened.
Some bare-footed visitors.
Two cautious but sufficiently curious girls.
And a returnee with her brood. Him with a t-shirt of Saturn.
Maybe it was Saturn. Not the moon.
Or just, one of those days.
With lots of moments.
It’s slow to start. But then.
A henna-handed lady arrives and is the first, eager to enter.
A daughter sits on her Dad’s knee while they share a moment. He’s so moved that he then repeats with his other daughter.
It’s the men today who were most touched.
A few dads.
A group of 11 teens on scooters arrive loudly, but leave quietly.
A determined boy hops out of his wheelchair.
And another tells me about his necklace from Bali.
A man in green surprised and states “I need to send my mate to this.”
They rule this town we think.
A long essay from a shy girl.
And a patient wait from a red-head beauty.
And all the while we’re next to a megaphone.
Spouting children’s words about all sorts.
But it’s their words about love. In all it forms.
That reminds us why we made this work.