There is another spectacular morning sky at 6.12am. The tree branches and leaves have that look of the ink 'paintings' we did at school, wash some paint on paper and blow the indian ink through a straw to get the spidery lines affect. Don't know why I recalled that.
|Pre-dawn, again, at 6.12am|
As an academic, it is incumbent upon us to be a member of various professional associations and groups which offer us the opportunity to keep up to date in our field. It generally means fees, conferences and journals we barely have time to read these days. Once upon a time these activities were considered our 'professional development', until HR departments got a hold of the idea and managed to turn it into a bureaucratised contrivance. Try getting a semester away from teaching to research, think, write and engage with colleagues elsewhere. At last count, I am a member of about six such groups. There is perhaps another half a dozen groups I could join...but time, money, etc.
|Parly House, at 6.12pm|
So after a day of work at home I'm off to a meeting at Parliament House for one of my favourite such groups: the Australasian Study of Parliament Group (Qld Chapter). Yes, it is hard core psephy territory--a group of people whose passion is parliaments. We meet in Parliament House, generally during sitting weeks so parliamentary members can join us. It is also the night before the budget is due to be brought down. Such a buzz. That's where I was at 6.12pm in a meeting, talking about parliamentary business...'My name is Donna, I'm a psephologist...'
Just prior and just after though there was a chance to take some of my favourite photo shoots, the urban landscape. I'm largely inspired by Jeffrey Smart's paintings and if I could paint...instead I borrow photographic inspiration from Max Dupain and Olive Cotton. As visitors to Parliament House we get to park under the freeway which provides a perfect landscape for the iPhonographer. Imagine what Max and Olive might have achieved with a phone camera...
|With due apologies ...|
|...to Max, Olive...|