izzy

Go tell the mountain that it’s burning

First warn the soil, then tell the rocks
Ask the peak if it can hear you

*

sarah

When the soldiers find their messiah they fall to their knees and sob. It’s not how they expected, prophesying between the back slappery and lewd jokery of the steamer ship. There is no great feast, no slew of doe-eyed virgins, no choir of angels. Not even a round of applause. There’s just a sort of feeling of great peace, a certain hang to the air, a quiet settling of the dust motes. They realise, all at once, that it’s the feeling of folding one’s head into the arms of a sun-warmed mother at the end of a long day, and they all feel it, even those who never had one, even those who never even dreamed of one. All the lost boys and late entrants and end-of-the-line orphan scrappers fold into that sort of bosomy love there at the end of everything, and they cry. Just cry for themselves and each other and the whole stinking world.

*

izzy

she liked to clean his ears,
took a strange, almost sadistic pleasure in it.

he hated it, but he let her do it.
years later, when they were no longer together
they still allowed themselves this ritual
when they were handing over the kids.

*

sarah

The wheat silos ring when you rap them with your knuckles. Kick them real hard and you can hear the grain shifting inside, rustling across itself in the deep wide dark. Every few years a kid gets cocky and climbs the ladder to the door up top, jimmies the padlock and peers in. Once, Vincent McMahon went missing late in autumn when the silos were at their fullest and they never did find him. Kids from school said he’d boasted about making the climb up the rickety stairs but nobody ever listened too hard. The police thought he might have skipped town, thumbed down a passing truck and made his way to the city, but his mother never believed it. Six months later, Susie Jeffreys broke a tooth eating Weet Bix, and when she dug around in her mouth to find the culprit, she found a crisp white molar, but this one wasn’t hers. Kids all over the country started finding teeth in their cereal, and there was talk of getting them together to form a set of dental records, but it never did happen.

*

izzy

down by the rocks,
phosphorescence glowing at night
twirling and cajoling the shore
drawing it into the depths
all sparkling green eyes
and hushed whispers

down by the rocks,
they used to dive for abalone
rangers turned a blind eye
the sea, she didn’t mind it
got pulled up because the law
got sent down because the letter

down by the rocks,
you triumphant in leather sandals,
linen dress grey bun flyaway,
tearaway you, crisp and brown
and salt sea spray with a fishing reel
dare the rocks to move beneath you.

*

sarah

The big kids turn green marble eyes in their red-lined sockets and stare
Marcy sticks her thumbs into her belt loops and grinds her heel into the dirt
holds up all six years and eight inches of herself, siphons her sinuses
into a giant booger, spits it at their feet, glares through cowlike eyelashes and sneers
they can’t decide whether to laugh or swear so they do both, heads bobbling
sides shaking with mirth, doffing respectful invisible hats as they pass

*

izzy

look at the way the water laps at your feet
like a dog
like it could make you love it
like it knows you own it
like it wants you to pull it closer

*

sarah

I hope you do not find me churlish, she whispers, wrapping a strand of hair around her finger and winding til it snaps. I hope my words do not frighten you, she purrs with her thumbs folding together like an origami bird. I hope you do not wish to leave, and she flutters her eyes and purses her lips and melts into the pillows.

*

izzy

I’m imagining light can burrow
that it’s made its way under your skin
that the way it shines outta your eyeballs,
flows from the back of your neck and your navel
is with the satisfaction of nesting
of resting in a place that finally makes sense

*

sarah

I have painted you an icon in my own image
for you to worship when I am not at home
I’ve popped in a halo behind my hair
just in case you forget who’s the holy one around here
I’ve clothed me in your favourite dress
the one with the tits out to here
and underneath, I painted that bra I want from Myer
you can’t see it, but now you know it’s there
if you flaked all the oils off, you’d find it there waiting.
if you light a candle in the votive sconce I’ve helpfully provided
it means the flicker just catches in my eyes
and I look cruel and stormy
a worthy judgmental god
for the times when you’re just scrolling through Facebook
and need a little divine intervention
and when your ceiling leaks when it rains
the water trickles down through my open left hand
so that you may lay your head beneath it
and be baptized in my name
I’ve also placed a box of tissues at my feet
for the times when you need to make a sacrificial offering
to sputter and sin in the presence of god
I will stare into your frantic eyes
I will not look away

*

izzy

she salutes the driver, jumps off the bus
long grey skivvy and black stockings under her
short summer dress, checked blue and yellow

trailing listless down Rathdowne
backpack swinging, dyed-red ponytail bobbing
in this 40-degree heat

*

sarah

There is something unfurling in me
stretching out like a cat nap
sending yawning arms out into the world
with bright shining eyes in tow
bringing back a face I think I could learn to trace
lips whose curve I could take a shy soft tongue to
a voice whose morning timbre and late night whispers
are a mystery to be unboxed in secret.
in my chest, the neighbourhood is being rattled
bits and pieces shuffling to the side to make a little room
for a snuffle-nosed little love to take up residence
rent free, and greeted with wine and welcome

*

izzy

I moved to a cave.
I have become very small.

the patch of sun at the mouth of my cave
catches motes of dust;
throws them back at the sun like
‘fuck you, I don’t want this’

I scrub the walls of my cave and I fill it with echoes
of Burt Bacharach and Beyoncé

you can look but don’t touch
I’m like a rainbow
in that I am a beautiful mirage

I’ve lost track of what day it is, and the year
I kept the bones from what I ate
to carve into beautiful weapons

still nothing has changed, really
still I prefer to belong to myself
so don’t touch me unless I say

I say to the mountain on Wednesdays
from the mouth of my cave,
‘my god, you are beautiful!’
it helps us both to get over hump day
to get through the week together.

*

sarah

Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?
Yes.
Pinky swear?
Sure.
Do you want to come to my slumber party?
Sure.
Close your eyes like this so it’s night time. No peeking. Can I ask you a secret?
Sure.
How about I ask you one, and you ask me one, and when we get to ten each, we stop.
Okay.
I’ll go first. Do you love anyone right now?
Yes.
Do you hate anyone right now?
Ooh. I don’t think I hate anyone. I dislike people.
When was the happiest that you’ve been this year?
Ah. Gosh. I think maybe last summer. The end of last summer. Relaxed and comfortable and down the beach and enjoying not having any weight or any pressure to do anything. It’s hard not to ask the opposite of what you just asked.
What was the biggest hurdle you had this year?
When I was in Europe, I had really bad anxiety, and it was kind of shit being away from everybody and away from home and having to come over that. Yeah.
What is the best book you’ve ever read?
I find it really hard to have best of anythings.
What’s a good book that you’ve read this year?
So I usually just default to the last thing that I’ve read that I quite enjoyed. Which I did read ‘The Goldfinch.’
Ah, by Donna Tartt.
Yeah, but I actually preferred her first book more.
The Secret History.
The Secret History. It’s good.
Do you ever talk to yourself in private?
Yeah, all the time. Often in public too. (Laughter).
How many people have you ever loved?
Fallen in love with, or just loved?
Either.
I don’t think I could count the ones that I’ve loved. There’s plenty that I loved and also hated at the same time.
How many have you fallen in love with?
I would say five…six…five people.
What are you doing here?
Well, so I’m photographing tomorrow night –
No, okay, let me ask that question again. Why are you doing the thing you’re doing here?
Because just before – whenever anyone’s in my bed, just before I fall asleep, I always seem to start asking people stupid questions, and I like hearing what comes out when peoples’ eyes are closed.
If you were asked to go to Mars, to start a new colony, and you knew you could never come back, would you go?
Is Mars a tropical, wonderful island?
No, it’s Mars. (Laughter).
No, I wouldn’t go.
What’s the hardest thing you think you’d ever have to give up, if someone made you give it up?
Probably being able to work. Or, being able to make work. Being able to make art. I’m a photographer, so if someone said I wasn’t allowed to do that, to have that outlet, I think that would be really hard.
Who do you think has the most important job in the world?
No-one.
Fair.
Who’s someone that’s been inspirational to you, and why?
I’m inspired by people all the time, for little things. I’m inspired by my friend Lucy, who has fairly full on mental illness, and still gets up every day, and pushes through when it’s really shit.
Which celebrity would you most like to kiss?
Male or female?
Either.
Maybe Julianne Moore.
Awesome.
Which celebrity would you like to slap the most?
Oh my god. Does Tony Abbott count? Is he a celebrity?
Yeah, he’s a celebrity.
Great. Oh, what joy I would take in that.
When you die, do you want to be buried or cremated?
Cremated. I don’t want to take up any space.
What are one of the things you’re most afraid of?
Heights. I get really vertiginous around heights. Even when they’re quite small. Even when I’m going up a small ladder I get very dizzy.
And this is the last question. What is the most beautiful thing?
Nothing is the most beautiful thing. Nothing. There’s too many beautiful things.
Do I get one last question? What questions do you usually ask people in bed before they fall asleep?
Questions like these.
Really?
Yeah.
Do they answer coherently?
It depends how tired they are. Sometimes they don’t answer. But a lot of the time they do. Sometimes they say silly things, sometimes they say beautiful things.
Do they tell you to shut up?
Sometimes. (Laughter). Sometimes they tell me to go to sleep, which I think is fair. You can open your eyes now.
Cheers. Thanks.
Thank you for coming.

*

Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?
Yes.
Do you pinky swear?
No.
Do you promise to tell the truth, except when you need to lie?
Yes.
Pinky swear?
Yep.
Do you want to come to my slumber party?
Yep.
Okay. Close your eyes like this, so it’s night time. Can I ask you a secret?
Yes.
Okay. How about I ask you, and then you ask me –
Okay.
And then when we get to ten each, we’ll stop.
Okay.
Okay. Which is better, out of cats and dogs?
Dogs.
Have you ever been in love?
Yes.
When was the last time you held a baby?
A week ago?
Do you want to have a baby?
I change my mind on that about every week. I don’t know. I think at the moment, I’m slightly more towards yes, but next week it’s probably going to be a definitive no. (Laughter).
What’s the best smell in the world?
I like the smell of freesias, which is my favourite flower, and reminds me that Spring is here.
What food do you hate to eat?
I don’t like dill. The herb. I have this weird aversion to dill. I don’t know what that’s about.
Interesting.
How many people have you written love letters to?
One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…(laughter). Nine?
Awesome.
How many people have you written love letters to?
I think four. Maybe five.
What is the New Year’s Resolution that you make the most often?
To do more exercise. What about you?
Yeah, it’s either exercise, or lose weight.
What are three words that describe how you want to be as a person?
Funny. Subversive. Brave.
How old are you?
Twenty-six.
What is your favourite song right now?
That makes me feel nervous. (Laughter). I just saw my old friend play a gig, and so his song has been in my head for the last couple of weeks, and it’s called Chevy Beretta.
Why did you want to make live art?
Because most of what I do is documenting someone else’s creation, and so I wanted to see what it was like from the other side.
Do you have any recurring dreams?
Mainly I dream about the same people. And get visits from people that are no longer with me. How about you?
When I was a little kid, I had a dream that, putting adult thought processes on it, kind of felt as though I was kind of still in the room and I could hear my mother talking. And since then, I think, I occasionally have a friend of mine who died kind of rock up and be profound.
That’s interesting.
Yeah. When in your life have you felt the most grown up?
Probably at job interviews. Or…or handling stuff with lawyers and accountants sometimes makes me feel grown up, but also really un-grown up. (Laughter).
Are you in love at the moment?
Y…yeah. (Laughter). Yes. Yes. In a complex sort of way. This is the last question, and then you can ask me one last one. What is the most beautiful thing?
Maybe swimming in the ocean surrounded by friends on a hot day that’s not too hot. (Laughter).
Do you ever feel like being in the arts is a waste of time?
Yeah. I do. I kind of vacillate halfway between going ‘Oh, no, the arts is what makes life worth living’ and thinking, well, I don’t think anyone’s ever really been improved by anything I’ve done. (Laughter). You know, no-one’s…everyone’s still got cancer, and I didn’t help anyone have more money or really even be happier. Especially with photos, I think, ‘cause they’re so saturated, people just sort of look and them and go ‘Oh, that’s cool’ and then immediately forget about it. I think sometimes live art can be more transformative. Yeah. You can open your eyes now. Thank you for coming.
Thank you.

*

izzy

She gets on the bus in her school uniform, and her backpack is almost as big as she is. Careful blonde ponytail with a white ribbon, starched socks (the long ones but rolled down because she’s not a rebel or a goody-two-shoes), pale blue checks, skinny wrists and Mary Janes. REM’s ‘Losing My Religion’ is creeping through the speakers when the drivers change over, the bus thrumming under a canopy of European green. The new driver cranks the volume and Taylor Swift comes blasting down the aisle Shakin’ it Off. We both bob or heads slightly, self-consciously, and my shoes start to feel too big for my feet and the seat I am in is swallowing me. I want to lean forward, conspirational, and tell her everything will be ok, but what do I know.

*

sarah

Kefir in my belly. Kombucha guts. Tiny little bubbles dancing away, sparkling water, sparkling wine. Some bacteria are good, and some nerves are exciting, and some days are the days to just be brave.

*

izzy

He covers his coughs with a kind of harrumph. Somehow it has the same effect as if he was standing there shifting from foot to foot. Underneath that slightly offended sound, he still has pockets full of rocks and shells, still swinging arms and crooked, toothy grin.

*

sarah

On this mountaintop, I can see for days. The eucalypts twist in the heat and press their scent into the palms of the wind, and the clouds turn their faces to the sun. I can see sheep dusted like icing sugar in the dry dead grass. I can see the spires of the cities bouncing light back where it came from. And I can see you. You are wrapped in a dust cloud, storming behind your sturdy thoughtful face. I can hear the life buzzing in your chest, blowflies and big ideas. Here in the sky I am perched on the tower of Babel, watching this confusion of tongues rattle through the night, bouncing off faces and falling into translationless laughter. I am far away and silent and looking at your face and liking what I see.

*

izzy

there is a child’s bike nestled in the fallen leaves and rainwater runoff of a second-storey roof, and all I can think is that for it to have gotten there, somebody must have had to throw it.

*

sarah

I dreamed of you again, and you were beautiful, as ever, and profound.
The last time, I was dying, and you came to claim me. Stood in a storm of light and wind to guide me away, and seeing you filled me with such love and anguish I almost burst. Halfway between you who I had lost and the ones I would leave, I held you and thought ‘This must be what dying feels like – all the sadness and all the joy in one moment.’ You folded me up and I woke sobbing, sobbing, while a man held me and kissed my head and told me it was okay.
Last night, it was summer. A beautiful warm day, and you were there almost casually, with a man you’d once loved, the light in your hair. ‘I saw you!’ I said, ‘in a dream.’ But that didn’t feel right, and you smiled, and said ‘Next to a dream’, and I knew that was a better way to say it. You held out your hand. You were holding a tiny tomato, which grew as I watched. I could see the insides, embryonic and swirling, like watching a galaxy grow in slow motion. The universe inside a cherry tomato. I was enchanted, and we stood and smiled and breathed in the day and the sweet bitter tomato smell and it was good and simple and easy.
Still I see you on street corners and crowded train platforms. Even when I haven’t thought of you in ages, realising with a guilty pang that today’s the day I thought I’d never forget, and I did. You’ve not been on my mind so much as under it. Trying on faces to see if they fit.

*