flower power

November 3, 2021

My neighbour’s Impatiens are almost all gone, and the petals on the last of his summer roses are sighing out their last breaths. In our garden, the geraniums we planted this summer are a flash of azure in a heap of rusty leaves. It will be some time before we see flowers again. I sometimes imagine what it would be like to live in a climate where flowers grow all year around. I came across the magical flower garden of florist, Petrina Burrill in the heart of suburban Melbourne, and I was enchanted. Delphiniums! Ranunculus! Roses! It’s so colourful and abundant, and I love all the mismatched pots crammed full of wild blooms. These will be lovely images to return to in the heart of February when we’re aching to see a crocus or two. And this garden chat with Petrina is delightful.

around and around

November 2, 2021

The London home of painter Ricardo Cinalli.

Burt Glinn’s portraits of Helen Frankenthaler.

Eleanor Lakelin’s wood sculptures.

Simple, sporty bathing suits.

Greta Garbo and Léo, the emblematic lion of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

in the canyon

November 1, 2021

It’s mind blowing to me that places like the Blue Canyon exist, a place where giant boulders appear tie dyed by nature herself. Both humbling and inspiring, images such as this remind me of how much there is to discover. I look forward to hiking these Arizona badlands one day. And then washing the red dust off my body at the spa.

oh my gourd

October 29, 2021

When my Mum was visiting from London, she and Iole made gemista. Traditionally, gemista are filled with ground meat, rice, and herbs but they made a variety to suit everyone’s likes and dislikes. We had our pick of tomatoes, bell peppers and zucchini. Today I found an Autumn spin on this classic Greek recipe that I thought I’d share. Instead of tomatoes and bell peppers, this recipe calls for gourds; Kabocha squash, Golden Nugget Squash, Tiger Stripe Pumpkin, any one will do. Just make sure they’re the edible kind.


October 29, 2021

As kids, our costumes were never shop bought. Halloween was a cobbled together affair with ghosts fashioned from old sheets and bin liners doubling as bat wings. My mum turned the kitchen into a witch’s grotto complete with pumpkins, candles, and fairy lights while all the kids piled in with sheets on their heads to bob for apples. It was all so messy and fun and makeshift; nothing like the elaborate decor and costumes you see in shops and houses today. Last week, Jason went to four different Sprit of Halloween stores to find a blue M&M costume. Red, yellow and pink would not do. So this year, I’m determined not to spend another penny on plastic rats and purple cobwebs. I’m throwing a ‘bloody’ sheet over the boxwoods and calling it a day.

and the bead goes on

October 27, 2021

“When I was three years old at Montessori school, I lost a beaded coin purse,” says Camille Laddawan when asked what inspired her love of bead artistry. “It was tiny, could fit inside my palm, and it was coloured yellow with pink and green flowers — perfect for putting seeds, a marble, or a spare lolly in. I loved it and its magical feel.” Years later, this Melbourne-based artist creates beautiful, patterned tapestries woven from glass beads, paper ephemera and coloured thread. “To create her compositions, Camille translates chosen words and phrases into Tone Code, a visual alphabet she has devised, inspired by Morse Code,” reads her bio. “This visual code allows her to conceal deeply personal messages within an aesthetic language that also adds new layers of emotion and expression that can be unpacked and discerned by the viewer.”

around and around

October 26, 2021

Daniel Anselmi’s paper paintings.

Corey Moranis’ juicy lucite jewels.

A plant filled kitchen.

Pippin Drysdale colourful porcelain vessels.

Just in case you think ladybugs all look the same.

And cats waiting for a fish in Malta.


October 25, 2021

I lived in Florence for seven months, and almost all my memories centre around food. The fresh-out-of-the oven brioche that we’d devour on our way home from the nightclubs, the pastas we’d cook in my tiny, attic apartment, the charred zucchini, mushrooms and smoky eggplant at Enrico’s café around the corner from school, the Linguine al Limone at Harry’s Bar. One of my first meals in Florence was a Ribollita served piping hot at a trattoria in the cellar of a palazzo near the Arno. This recipe, with barlotti beans and cavolo nero, whisked me back. It was Winter when I moved there and Ribollita is the perfect Winter meal. Stale bread, beans, greens –– it’s all so hearty and comforting.

sink in

October 22, 2021

People who know me know that I take sinks quite seriously. We have a marble one in our kitchen that’s large enough to wash a Guinea Hog in. This one below, in a farmhouse designed by Amber Lewis, is pretty stunning. I love that it’s shallow, and that the rough texture works so well against the lustre of brass taps. This is a laundry room. Pairing up socks just got a whole lot less choresome.

bone dry

October 21, 2021

Clay goes through so many stages before it reaches its final destination of mug, bowl or vase. My favourite stage is the greenware stage, specifically when the clay is bone dry and ready to be fired. It’s here that I am full of hope and possibility. The kiln hasn’t had its wicked way yet. No cracking, blistering or warping. I can see the finished piece exactly as I want it to look. It’s rare that I ever look at a finished piece with the same satisfaction that I do in that early stage. I often photograph my pieces just before they enter the kiln as a marker of what could have been, and what could still be, if I keep at it.

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