February 9, 2010
Byron Shire Echo – Ph 02 6684 1777
Byron Shire Echo August 1, ArticlesTea PartyBronwen Davies Tea, anyone Johnny felt the smiles of delight that met his offer ll the shabby derelict room with light, and it ever so slightly took the edge off the otherwise freezing night air. Johnny loved tea parties and this was his best yet. As Roger and Lucy hadnt drunk their last tea, Johnny emptied their teacups full of dirty water onto the worn wooden oor, and poured a fresh round of drinks from the chipped plastic tea pot. He then offered milk, which Roger and Lucy declined. It was a well rehearsed ritual they had perfected over many years of intimate acquaintance. Johnny leaned back in the rickety chair and beamed at his friends. Roger and Lucy were dear to him. They had all grown up together, and had been in the same class at school, though none of them went any more. Not since the mines collapsed. Johnny thought how splendidly matched they all were in red. He loved both his friends immensely, but had always harboured more tender feelings towards Lucy. It grieved him to see her unwell. To see how pale her skin was, and how thin she had become. Johnny knew she was not the only one he himself often went days without eating. But it seemed so much sadder to Johnny when Lucy was poorly he had never thought someone as sweet as she could suffer. Johnny leaned over the table to ask Lucy a question. As he placed his hand upon her arm he noticed how cold her skin was to touch. He immediately offered his scarf, and before she could refuse, wrapped it around her neck. Johnny caught a peculiar glint in Rogerss eyes, and when he realised what it meant Johnny turned away blushing. He remembered how Roger had often teased him good humouredly about Johnnys partiality to his sister. When Johnny had recovered from his embarrassment he looked back at Roger, but the glint had vanished. They seldom spoke these days. None of them had any energy to play, but even if they had the weather wouldnt allow for it. There was no food other than what could be found, and nothing to do except have tea parties. Johnny loved this tea parties were his favourite thing. He relished the independence with no adults around to tell them what to do. Johnny could hardly remem-Artists on the NetWhat do New York and the Northern Rivers have in common One thing is the high number of visual artists per head of population another is that Melitta Firth, the current Visual Arts Network coordinator for Arts Northern Rivers, did her internship at the Guggenheim. It was there that Melitta discovered that the websites for even the most famous galleries in the world were disappointing. They had shots taken from too far away, they were too one dimensionalvery simple problems but they just prevent you from being engaged, said Melitta. Using her skills as a graphic designer, curator, artist and coordinator, Melitta set about designing a virtual gallery space of a quality rarely seen in the art world. The Visual Arts Network VAN offers the browser an opportunity to stroll through the virtual space, picking up bits of arts information and gaining valuable knowledge into the work of artists based in the Northern Rivers. In a unique addition to the website, the VAN has also created a gallery hosted by different guest curators who choose and talk about their favourite local artists. Currently hosted by MCA curator Russell Storer, the gallery will use the services of some of Australias best curators and commercial gallery directors such as Dr Gene Sherman of Sherman Galleries and Julie Ewington, curator of Queensland Art Gallery. To visit the gallery go to au.Young writer Bronwen Davies, centre, won the Young Writers Competition held by YAC. She is with Mark Owen-Greene, left, of contest sponsors Lightforce and Andy Parks of YAC.ber life before, but somehow he knew it hadnt always been like it was now. He vaguely remembered going to school and having a mother and father, but it seemed like another lifetime. All that counted was his friendship with Roger and Lucy. It sustained him. Sometimes he worried that someone might take the twins away from him, but felt reassured when he looked around their forgotten derelict on a street full of other abandoned homes. Johnny knew that no one wouldnearby, and in the ancient replace he had tried to set the logs alight. Unfortunately, the logs were damp, and smoked excessively. Although not creating any warmth, Johnny thought that the smoke was interesting to watch, and decided to leave it going. He now stared at the smoky fireplace, and regretted not persevering with the re, as he huddled on the oor desperately seeking warmth as darkness fell. Johnny closed his eyes, but sleep was hard to nd. As his mind drifted, he heard aHe relished the independence with no adults around to tell them what to do. Johnny could hardly remember life before, but somehow he knew it hadnt always been like it was now. He vaguely remembered going to school and having a mother and father, but it seemed like another lifetime. All that counted was his friendship with Roger and Lucy. It sustained him.come looking for them. Soon Johnny felt weary and yawned. He instantly regretted it as the pressure tickled the back of his throat and spurred another coughing t. Seeing how tired his friends looked, he found a thin piece of material to sufce as a blanket and spread it out over Lucy and Roger, tucking it into their chair. They gazed gratefully at him as he curled up tightly on the oor, and in between coughing began to breathe warm air onto his numb hands. Earlier that evening Johnny had found some old firewood in the overgrown grass voice. Shifting on the oor, he looked up thinking Lucy had murmured. He saw that her eyes were open, but they were not looking at him. He began to ask her what was wrong when he heard the noise again. The voices were coming closer. Johnny lay tense on the ground, trying to think over his quickening heartbeat. They needed to hide. He jumped up casting a frightened look at Roger and Lucy, urging them to rise. Neither responded, and in desperation Johnny attempted to lift Lucy from her chair, moving her away from the approach-ing voices. His heart pounded in his chest, already sore from coughing violently. All Johnny could think about was the voices taking the twins away from him. He wouldnt let that happen. He put his arms around Lucy but was too weak to lift her. Roger, help me Quick Roger made no reply. Johnny stared in confusion. Roger Blimey, do you want them to get us Johnny gave up trying to move Lucy and instead began to yell. Get up Come on, please get up Theyre almost here you dont want to go away, do you Please dont leave me Dont let them take you Johnny doubled over and began to cough, tears edging down his dirty face. He was so angry at them, so angry at himself. When the men got to the derelict, Johnny was lying on the oor, drifting in and out of consciousness. One man hurried over to him, took off his police jacket and wrapped Johnny up in it. The other, seeing the twins, swallowed and walked over towards them. He looked into their eyes and felt their neck. The policeman tending Johnny looked down at the feverish boy in his arms, wishing theyd got there sooner. It didnt look like hed make it. The policeman glanced over at his colleague, and asked the question with no words. Dead, he replied. Both of em. Been gone weeks, Id say. The policeman looked down again at Johnny, and sighed.