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.
On the harbour. Looking out.
As Stretch Festival stretches across the arts precinct.
Markets, music, joeys, possum hats, cupcakes, designer fashion and little installations potted in the nooks.
We’re near the bridge.
We watch pelicans and ducks.
The fresh water tingling our skin.
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.”
It was also a day of dogs.
One with blue and brown eyes.
And another one. Grumpy.
They meet and sniff.
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.
Our last day.
A humid day.
A pair of cousins in thongs sat side by side and typed together.
A family rotated gelato with ipods in having their aMoments.
A stripey black-suited beauty gave a big squeeze at the end.
A pair: one with purple, one with plaited hair.
We squished in a family of three, with many smiles.
A friend visited and told me it was too sad before she entered. She agreed it wasn’t so sad afterwards. Phew.
Impressed by a child sporting ugg-boots in the heat. She must love them.
I could hear fireworks. But not see them. They must have been for the Lunar New Year…
The sky turned pink and wanted to rain. Only a few fat drops fell. Much to our relief.
A single teen defied her pack and stopped for aMoment.
Two rushing ladies gamble their time when they hear it’s our last night. I think they’re glad they did.
A lady in white rushed, but still smiled.
And a lovely woman confessed she could vividly remember being 8 herself and trying to envisage herself in 20 years time.
And finally an umbrella was held by a friend as the last audience member had her aMoment.
Thank you Perth.
There were many of you.
We’ve now read all your notes. All 228.
And had our aMoment being stopped by them.
You reminded us why this work should keep going.
Hope to see you again. Soon.
We had a wee hitch this day. It’s only happened twice.
And someone was able to save us. Phew.
No matter how many times we do the caravan, it’s always easy to forget something.
The first two were patient, calm and keen. They ate their dips and embraced their aMoment.
A head-scarfed Mama came to visit & left with smiles and giggles.
A lovely rainbow socked gent came and transferred henna from his leg onto a note for the caravan.
Two friends I’ve known for years. One for twenty even.
A jewelled eyebrowed lady.
Another that required glasses.
Someone semi-pushed into attending by their girlfriend.
A lady in blue and white with kind eyes.
We listened to a ukulele and it made our ears smile.
A man raved about a musical improvisation show with such vigour as his partner took aMoment.
A daughter dropped her mum off for aMoment. She was wary but delighted.
A few cheeky waves to little ones passing and peeking. Including a special pup called Holly.
A dapper man of orange and blue who revealed a smile.
A woman let her ice cream melt to listen better. She gave me a big hug afterwards and said:
“Don’t worry. I’m 48 and it’s wonderful.”
A steamy, steamy Perth night.
The kind that Tim Winton writes about.
We made some DIY aircon.
But, we may have used it more than our guests…
Helps to be local I guess.
A woman waited patiently reading her Fringe guide as others buzzed around her. Ready, she entered. And left with a hug.
A pregnant woman who grappled with the thought of her unborn child being 20 yrs old.
A patterned shirt that had travelled from Zanzibar shed a tear or two.
A returnee with her mother and sister who exclaimed their love for typewriters.
A golden-hearted spirit in a purple skirt came and had speckled eyes before she entered. She was beautiful and asked for more tissues before leaving.
A sceptic thespian sat and was semi-bullied into taking aMoment. He did and left with a warm smile and thanks.
A girl reached for her partners knee when she first heard the voice and looked into his eyes.
A man with green eyes and the warmest sense.
An eager beaver took his time listening outside and made us a heart that floated in the breeze.
Two friends who gratefully allowed the caravan to reside on their verge for a few months visited and finally found out what it was all about.
A big smile I haven’t seen in one of them for ages. Relief.
A woman who was nervous began crying before entering the caravan. A sensitive soul.
A handy fellow used his torch to read the notes as it got darker and darker.
And a sneaky last moment with a lady who wanted to dance with headphones on…but soon stopped when she began to listen.
And we finished early.
A wee bit sweaty but many a warm moments had.
After Monday’s day-off the artists and staff of fringe looked all Fresh.
Apart from some Blue Room staff – who we’d just like to do a shout out for doing all that they do for Summer Nights’ artists. Much. Love.
A few visitors post-work who were very welcome.
Two banana dressed ladies at different times. Both vivid.
A woman entered after her two children and needed a tissue at the end.
A singing gypsy with a jangling silver necklace had a play and remembered her past selves.
A couple unsure, but so glad they did stop in the end.
An elongated limbed inspirational friend with a beautiful smile folded himself elegantly into the caravan. We are so glad he made it.
A hug from a woman who laughed with surprise when she saw what was in the caravan.
Thank you we said, thank you for creating it a woman said.
We noticed the clock at PICA stopped at 6.35pm, which is when we changed performers.
A man patient, curious and warm pondered at the caravan for a while. We’re glad he came back later to experience it.
A man flipped off his “flintstones” which we thought was his name for flip flops. No, they had flintstones on them.
Three ladies, one brave, the other kind the last concerned and chose not to enter. I wish I’d been able to convince her.
A woman wriggled with excitement that she’d made it to the caravan after reading about it.
“Best 10 minutes I’ve had all day, all week, all month.” said a man.
Which brought a smile to our face.
See you for three more days Perth.