art society

The Art Society has recently held its third gathering, and it is anything but an ordinary meeting. Bring your own project, afternoon tea provided.  If you dress to match the colour of your paint you get extra creativity points. The society has a founding band of two, with a guest appearance this week from Mumma Aquaman; a most talented and experienced quilter, seen here hand sewing painfully small triangles into dainty squares.  A local friend was most puzzled as to why anyone would cut up brand new fabric, only to sew it back together again. Fair call I say. I am screen printing new bolster covers, using a mini screen from textile artist Louise Snook, and Linda is drawing coral.  Dad is wandering around the outside, afraid to get too close to secret women's business.  

I began this quilt two years ago and on the odd cold night I have been using it in its half finished state, much to the disgust of my mother-in-law.  She couldn't bare going home without seeing it completed to her exacting standards, and I was more than happy to hand it over. In the absence of an iron, dad was roped in to "finger press" the seams flat before the wadding and backing fabric were pinned on.  I would have skipped over that part, such is the nature of my casual craft.  Thanks mum. 

false start

Remember that beautiful semen minyak layer the boys poured over the slab last week?

It didn't stick.

Aquaman had a lovely time chipping it off, and in the process he created enough texture on the slab for a second attempt. 

cultural highlights

Tom's parents (aka Mr & Mrs Aquaman) are here for two weeks, and being fit, sprightly young folk, each morning and evening they tear themselves away form their exclusive beachside accommodation and survey the village. You might think it is all about glistening waves and silhouetted coconut palms, but for the villagers, real beauty is a satellite dish or padded lounge. Pot plant fever has taken hold, adding colour and quaintness to bare front yards. One industrious lady has decided to put her collection up for sale, and thus become our first "florist." I wonder if I can take a cutting from the rare cool drink tree?

dad's little helpers

Like the goats and pigs, the village kids are free-range, roaming around with their friends and siblings, unconfined and safe, with a neighbourly eye never far away.  When the building team were here last week, the kids often called in for a visit, a play in the sand, and if it was market day, a special treat from Mrs Sally, the tea lady.  These are the first generation to grow up with foreigners living nearby, and it is lovely to see them develop each season and gain confidence with the strange white folk in funny houses. 

the new pad

As Aquaman is incredibly busy chasing waves and designing a resort, he contracted our usual building team of brothers to pour the the pad for our toilet and boardroom. There are no building standards here, and water proofing a slab is unheard of. They make them rough and ready, filled with rocks and a weak concrete mix to stretch the expensive cement further. Ours is a hybrid between an Aussie "raft slab" and a local rock footing, mixed by hand and poured one bucket at a time. They don't screed the slab, but trowel it in with string line guides as they go along. It doesn't make for a very neat job, so the final surface is a watery slurry of grey cement and water (semem minyak  : cement oil). It is poured on and troweled lightly, one cup at a time. They continue to smooth it as it dries, progressing to a paintbrush, and a final polish using the paper cement bag.  We are going to seal it with savon noir, a French soap made from the hulls of black olives. Once only reserved for villagers that couldn't afford tiles, the semen minyak technique is being adopted by upmarket villas and restaurants in Bali as trendy "industrial chic".  Remember, you saw it first in our toilet.