Remotion. Living in the desert

and making art

Fifty years ago I hid my diary up a chimney, so no one could read it.

Now, I warmly invite you to read my musings on unexpected ways of living when you drive away from your usual life.

A month ago, I moved from Melbourne to the desert of Western Australia. I drove off nine days before Christmas at the most ridiculous time of year for desert travel.

2025 seems to be a good time to get back into the writing habit - to share how I am adjusting to this new adventure and how it will influence my art practice.

First, a small leap back to Year 7.

About that chimney

In 1975, I got my first lockable diary, which I went to extraordinary lengths to hide in my bedroom. I'm not sure why. Bizarrely, I recorded the daily weather.

That diary had an audience of 1.

2025 marks 50 years since I began the diary-writing habit with fervour at the start of Year 7. During my school years I wrote daily or several times a week, but as I got older things tapered off and the entries have been sparse at times. I have many diaries and journals now in safekeeping. In 2021, I stopped the habit of writing in a diary altogether. I've had a weird writer's block or self-sabotage about my writing. At first, it didn't bother me, as I had plenty of other things to occupy me.

Working in an office job doing writing or 'communications' has taken its toll on my body and my interest in words. Sitting in front of a screen for any length of time is hard. About six years ago, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, which forced a recalibration of life. I need to move or my body seizes up. Creative expression has come through my art, photography, videography and compulsive 'making' habit. Whether using reclaimed ceramic or glass in mosaics, fibre, metal, plastic, or wire. Making a garden and cooking- whatever keeps me in perpetual motion.

This year, the desire to write is returning, and I'm trying to snatch the urge before it slips away again.

Boxing up your life

After spending 16 years in the family home, I boxed up possessions and prepared the place for renting. The studio has been left in its normal tumultuous state. This process was both paralysing and hard work, especially for someone who uses recycled materials in art and tries to dispose of possessions ethically. Emptying out a house is a bit like childbirth; you forget how much pain is involved until you are in the middle of it. Fortunately, I had a friend Michelena who helped with the purging. We even got a skip and that felt good.

The chickens were rehomed, and the puss cat has gone to stay with my son and his partner. Pot plants were farmed out to friends. I pondered the road trip and what would be needed for a long time away, knowing that the extreme heat would keep me indoors for most of the time. Space was tight in the car.

'Why would you go there?' people ask, with a mix of scorn, ignorance and curiosity. It's hot, there are loads of flies, and there is NOTHING THERE.

Why choose one of Australia's most remote spots? (I won't call it the Outback (more on that later.)

My husband has always enjoyed working with Aboriginal communities and, since 2020, has been a relief Community Development Adviser on Ngaanyatjarra Lands, Western Australia. We decided that now the children were young adults on their own paths, it was time for us to try something different.

July 2024

So, to ensure I wasn't making the biggest mistake of my life, I dipped my toe into the red sand with a month-long visit in mid-2024. Flying in is not straightforward, plus there are weight restrictions on the small mail planes. So, my friend Judy and I relived part of a trip we did in 1984 at the end of our nursing training. We travelled from Melbourne into South Australia, up to the Red Centre, then to far eastern Western Australia.

We had a high-maintenance passenger, Louie (13-year-old Maltese Shih-tzu). The car was packed with food I thought we could not find in a remote general store. (I was wrong on a few counts with the food) and lots of art supplies.

Louie stopping for petrol at Yulara.

This Winter visit to the desert was amazing, and I loved the ancient landscape and the evocative sense of space and colour. I had a solid burst of creativity, collecting discarded objects, rocks, and stones (with permission) and making things.

I got up early, excited to see what kind of floorshow the sunrise would put on for us. (From the front of the house, you can see the sunrise and, from the back, the sunset.) I had the privilege to observe different ways of being and better understand how First Nations people live their culture on country.

When I returned to Wintry Melbourne, many quizzed me when I told them I would be leaving to go and live in WA 'for around 6 months or longer'. Usually, the conversations go something like this:

'Where is it you are going again?'

When I answer, they say:

'That's the middle of nowhere'

(It's not 'nowhere'; people live here, and so do scores of amazing animals, birds, insects, and plants)

'Ah, the real outback then.'

(No, the 'Outback' is a place for a dunny and its a colonial term that positions cities as the epicentre of life)

'Buttfuck nowhere.'

'My god, that's way further than woop-woop.'

Then the other questions follow:

What will you do there?

How will you cope with the heat?

‘How will you cope with the isolation? And being away from the things and people? (No family time, catching up with friends, cafes, gardens, booze, cinema, community and all the city attractions we take for granted.)

Fair questions. I will do editing work and contribute to the community however I can. I'm likely going to be working in a job unlike anything else I have ever done. In the meantime, I'm helping out in the general store.

I have bought art and craft supplies to keep me occupied. Yes, I will yearn for a life back in Melbourne, but it's a damn good feeling to know that I'm 866km from the nearest McDonalds and KFC in Alice Springs. And that I don't need to go into a fluro-lit shopping mall to get provisions.

Accepting that I'm also 866 km away from a vet, dentist, car mechanic, physio, and hairdresser is less comforting. Gulp.

Back on the weather - December 2024

When the time came to pack up and come up here for 'the 'extended period' just before Christmas, the blazing heat had set in. From Adelaide onwards, it was over 35 degrees Celsius every day. Barely hitting mid-20s at night. This time Michelena my Canadian friend who helped me to pack up the house came along for the ride. Both of us knew we needed to take the weather conditions seriously. We delayed the trip by a few days to avoid travelling in over 40 degree temperatures. It was still like driving into an oven though. Every day, I'm very thankful for ice and air con - where ever it can be found.

In this 2025 diary, the weather will be there – Whether it's hot, cold, windy or otherwise is central as we are in what the Bureau of Meteorology calls the 'South Interior District' of Western Australia.

The Bureau of Meteorology App provides endless entertainment as do sunrises and sunsets.

It's a constant measure of mood and motivation, and unlike in 1975, the forecasts are way more accurate.

As I'm living on Aboriginal land with the permission of the Traditional Owners, I won't be talking about or identifying the community I live in or others I visit. Nor will I reveal Aboriginal matters, the activities of people, pets or daily lives without their permission.

This part of the country runs to WA time, which means in the Summer, the daylight starts around 4am, the sun rises at around 4.45am, and the sunset is 6.30pm. If you don't rise early enough, you miss the chance to stroll before it is too hot – usually it’s over 30 degrees by 7am.

It is possible to be entertained by digital comforts. There is good Wi-Fi and a mostly stable electricity supply, so we can stay cool with split systems.

The creatures of the desert have the right idea. They live underground.

Various animal homes in the sandy areas. Some are for reptiles others for ants or insects.

The change is taking some getting used to. I'm occupying my time with various creative activities, experimenting with materials, gathering discarded objects and reusing our rubbish. We drink bottled water, so there is no shortage of plastic water containers. Here is a plastic bottle covered with dropped bougainvillea petals.

Bougainvillea bushes grow well here in people’s gardens and show a real splash of colour.

Making storage boxes and other vessels is strangely satisfying as is arranging found objects. I bought only a limited amount of adhesive. I will need to wait until more arrives on the mail plane or when we next visit a regional centre.

Many people on Substack earn a living from their writing, and I'm in awe of them. This is not my current plan, but that could change. Writing , curating photos and videos, thinking about what to share is ‘work’. One thing this shift in life has taught me is to bend with the wind. Be more bamboo and open your mind and heart to what the elemental forces throw at you.

I plan to post weekly and this will include creative projects however ‘naive’ they are - yes even things that are below par (epic fails) because anguishing over what to show publicly gets me nowhere. Thank you for reading this far. 🥰

I would love to hear from you with questions and comments.

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