Above: I am slowly making a 30 cm wide house as part of my entry into the Linden Postcard Show. Part of my plan is to evoke the sort of weary brick boxes that were the most careless examples of "home" in the suburb where I grew up. After much spying and embarrassed photographing in various courts and crescents off the Nepean Highway, I conveniently found my muse a street from where I live right now: a quiet aberration squeezed between two Victorian workers' cottages. (I am sure that the workers' cottages were just as depressing in their own way, once upon a time. Very interesting how these things change.)
The original idea was to use plywood, but the wise brother advised me to use a material that I could easily cut by myself using a scalpel, rather than relying on him to cut it by machine in his workshop (he's clever). Initially I hated the way that the balsa wood sucked up the paint and was cursing my brother's name (he'll never know) but then as these things happen, I got used to it. There was plenty of opportunity to get used to it, painting each wall brick by brick, below. The typically 1970's shiny tiled roof is next. I can't wait. And I naively thought that only being on the computer all day could make my eyes that sore!