Leftover

I have always been attracted to the smaller, quieter and left behind things of this world.

In April this year I was married and as is usual speeches were given. Against tradition I asked my mother to speak on behalf of my side of the family. She talked about my character; how at eighteen months I didn’t respond to the name my parents had given me at birth and so they had to change it, about growing up in country S.A. free to explore and express myself and how travelling around the world since little had instilled confidence and ability to build relationships fast with anyone from a French baker to my art teacher. 

My mother shared, “I fondly treasure the love language we exchange in giving each other odd bits and bobs; special rocks, wild flowers, autumn leaves.” It’s true, almost everyday on my walk home from school I would find something small and precious for my mummy. It became a ritual for me to pick the tiniest pale pink rose bud that I could find (but only if there were more than 3 flowers on the bush) and put it in the tiniest vase on my mothers’ dressing table for her to find when she came home. To this day, I am still in the practice of finding precious treasures on my walks home or around the garden and putting together little displays. My kitchen windowsill is on a constant rotisserie of tiny found objects and fresh flower buds that bring me a smile whenever I do the dreaded washing up or make a cuppa tea.

As a child one of my favourite toys was a teddy bear called Leftover. He was a scruffy brown and white teddy bear, with small ears and a funny arm that dangled by a few loose threads. We got him from the local arts and crafts store, a favourite jaunt of ours, at the top of a hill in Whyalla. Leftover was in a bag with other teddies and dolls that were damaged or broken. Leftover’s left arm had fallen off and was loose in the bag of goodies. Most of the toys had a missing piece waiting to be mended and brought back to their former cuddly glory. 

Headless wasn’t so lucky though. Leftover and Headless became my favourite toys as a child. They always played significant roles at the lounge room tea parties and their attendance always invited lively conversation about how Headless had no need for tea and biscuits but enjoyed the party all the same. He was always there to  help Leftover pour his tea. 

Just yesterday, I gave my last soft toy to Vinnies, Wally (see pictured above). Another favourite growing up. Wally was a scruffy, flopping teddy who was a bit of a trouble-maker and gave particularly good cuddles. But as he always seemed to end up under the bed rather than on the bed I decided his hugs would be better served elsewhere. I do quite love this photograph though. 

All this seems significant as I prepare for a show that is essentially derived from taking unnoticed, found and left behind materials and not only drawing attention to these often 'unseen' elements of everyday life but somehow revelling in their ordinariness. Somehow not ordinary anymore.