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Blue Fringe 2020 Collected Works

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1Blue Fringe Art & Literature Exhibition2020 Collected WorksBlue Fringe booklet 2020 website version.indd 1 22/10/2020 12:56:17 PM

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2Copyright © Blue Fringe Art & Literature Festival 2020 on behalf of all artists and authors in this compilation. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher or the Blue Fringe Art & Literature Festival Committee.National Library Cataloguing-in-Publications data: Title: The Blue Fringe Art & Literature Exhibition 2020 Subtitle: 2020 Collected WorksOther Authors: Blue Fringe Arts & Literature Committee Subjects: Australian Art, Australian Poetry, Australian Short StoriesPrinted by Bennett’s Printing KatoombaDesign and Layout: Felicity TonksPhotography of Art for Book: Livonne LarkinsCover Art shows the ‘Packers Prize’ Winner ‘Together’ Sculpture by Katoomba High School.This collaborative artwork by Year 8 ceramics class is a response to the angst and mayhem brought by the bush res and virus. Art is a uniting force. Making these sculptures together is a cathartic experience.The ‘Packers Prize’ is awarded each year for creative excellence by the members of the Blue Fringe Committee who are responsible for ‘unpacking’ all of the art entries for the exhibition. This year’s award winner received the honour of being featured on the cover of this book. Art featured on this page is a portion of ‘In Bloom’ by Michelle Brown, an entry in the Blue Fringe 2020 Art category. The full piece is featured on page 86 of this book.2Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 2 26/10/2020 1:24:58 PM

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3FOREWORDWe would like to acknowledge the People of the Darug and Gundungurra Nations, the Traditional Custodians of the land we know as the Blue Mountains World Heritage area, and we pay our respects to Elders past and present and emerging.The 12 months since Blue Fringe 2019 have been like no other. It is fitting then that Blue Fringe 2020 is a Blue Fringe Festival like no other. Connections, community and creating have always been a feature of Blue Fringe and this year it has been especially important. Blue Fringe is recognised as an important and defining festival, not only for entrants, local business supporters, community organisations and the public who enjoy the work each year, but also to keep the conversations about mental health and well-being going. The Blue Fringe Committee was determined that Blue Fringe would go ahead in some form or other and as the months passed, the move to a ‘virtual’ festival began. This vision has been realised thanks to the generosity of the Blue Mountains City Council who have funded this year’s festival in recognition of its importance to our community. As with the previous three years, this year includes a Youth category with a focus on mental wellbeing and resilience and in this time of virtual events, an online workshop was held for young people with the support of our partner organisations. As the entry date for art and literature entries drew closer, the Blue Fringe community showed that #artsnotcancelled and entries in all categories began to arrive. This book is another first as it combines entries in both art and literature which reflects the value of coming together, of community and to mark a year like no other.For all that is different in 2020, the amazing variety, depth and creativity of entries to this year’s Blue Fringe Festival shines as a celebration of the creativity of people with a lived experience of mental health issues as has been the case for 28 years. In this collection we see reflections of the world around us, hardship and pain, but also perseverance, resilience and triumph. We are thrilled to present this collection of art and literature and honour the courage and generosity of all who entered.The Blue Fringe Committee 2020.3Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 3 26/10/2020 1:24:58 PM

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4ACKNOWLEDGEMENTSOur sincere thanks and gratitude go to our dedicated partners and generous supporters for 2020 who make this important event possible.The Blue Fringe Arts & Literature CommitteeSpringwood Neighbourhood Centre Co-operative Ltd.Belong Blue Mountains Inc.Blue Mountains Women’s Health & Resource CentreStrideCommittee Volunteers Karen Stevenson, Rhonda Santi and Lee MitchellOur Financial Supporters for 2020The Blue Mountains City CouncilOur Long-Term Financial SupportersBendigo BankMountain High Pies, Wentworth FallsRichard’s Financial ServicesCatriona Swan, Belle Property LeuraOur Community SupportersAunty Carol CooperCheryl Tate in memory of Peter MarkwickSuzie van Opdorp and the Family of Maurice BradyVaruna Writer’s HouseBlackheath Area Neighbourhood Centre (BANC)All the wonderful volunteers who have contributed this year and every year to make Blue Fringe what it is today.And most importantly, the artists and authors who so generously shared their work for the 2020 Blue Fringe Art & Literature Festival.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 4 26/10/2020 1:24:58 PM

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5Thank you to our Blue Fringe 2020 judges for your time, generosity and care. BLUE FRINGE JUDGES 2020Colin Berryman – Blue Mountains City Council Art AwardA resident of the Blue Mountains since 1998, Colin has immersed himself in its cultural and natural wonders, satiating his craving for life’s value and meaning in the 21st Century. While on the surface a community sector worker with NGOs and nowadays BMCC’s Community team, musical and photographic pursuits have kept him sane and in contact with creative and wonderful people.Suzie van Opdorp – Maurice Brady Art & Literature AwardsSuzie’s partner Maurice Brady had, throughout his career as a community worker, demonstrated a long-standing commitment to breaking down barriers and had been involved in Blue Fringe and its predecessor, the Adrienne Brown Trust, since its inception. Following his death in 2017, Maurice’s family established a Blue Fringe Award in his name to encourage people living with mental illness. Peter Minter – Literature AwardsPeter Minter is a poet, poetry editor and essayist who writes on poetry, poetics and ecological philosophy. His widely published and translated works include Empty Texas, blue grass and In the Serious Light of Nothing. He was a founding editor of Cordite poetry magazine and teaches Indigenous studies, creative writing and contemporary poetry at the University of Sydney. Lindena Robb – Art AwardsLindena is a visual artist and creative facilitator. At 13, she received congratulatory telegrams from Russell Drysdale and William Dobell for winning a Sydney City Poster art competition! Lindena has a Post Graduate Certicate in Social Ecology and Holistic Counselling. She has been a teacher of ‘Creative Expression as Healing’ and she is passionate about beautifying local environments with community art. Merryl Watkins – Photography AwardsMerryl grew up in country NSW, studied at Sydney University and has taught English, History and Drama. She moved to the Blue Mountains in 1998 with husband George where they raised their two sons. Merryl has always loved birds and taking photos and lately the two have become a passion. Photography is a way for her to connect with nature and restore balance.Marlene Harrison – Sculpture AwardsMarlene has been involved in fashion and the arts for most of her life, having worked in the fashion industry in Sydney for over 30 years, designing and patternmaking. The creative environment and the people of the Blue Mountains have been an inspiration for Marlene. She is honored to have been asked to judge the Blue Fringe exhibition and was impressed at the high level of the work submitted.Saskia Everingham – Textiles AwardsSaskia is a textile artist, workshop facilitator and curator working in the Blue Mountains. Saskia enjoys working with many different textile mediums but her current passion is creating one-of-a-kind hand-felted products, hats and bags. Saskia teaches workshops for kids and adults, writes and speaks on textile related issues and is an advocate for the development of textile art.5Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 5 26/10/2020 1:24:58 PM

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6COLLECTED WORKS BY CATEGORYAll work entered in 2020 has been included in this special printed collection and placed in no particular order. Great care has been taken to represent the work as close to the original submission as possible. ART Adam Mieth Untitled ................................................................................................. 61Alan Bridge Integration ............................................................................................ 72Alexandra Holmes You Are Enough - Reminders for when all hope is lost .................... 28Andrew Norris Juxtaposition of the Fall ..................................................................... 60Chae Peter Ruffo The Movement Of Greed ................................................................... 43Christine Stickley Resilience.............................................................................................. 46Christopher Derrick Ebenezer Church SA ........................................................................... 17David Bryant At Least 4 Great NGO’s and many more yet to come ................ 121David Santleben Wymsical Colour .................................................................................. 90Emiko Seita Self Expression .................................................................................... 102Emilia Gosling A Guiding Light .................................................................................... 94Evie Johnstone July 2020 ............................................................................................... 99Grace Coan Working From Home ............................................................................ 91Harry Gersbach Give me my owers while I can still smell them ............................... 11Henry Beckett Contemplation .................................................................................... 35Janet Hollister Flowers from our garden .................................................................... 25Jayke Burgess Get Loose Mary ................................................................................... 30Jennifer Trezise Eight Out Of Ten Men .......................................................................... 26Jessica Stevenson Ten ....................................................................................................... 114Karen Stevenson Survival .................................................................................................. 55Lachlan Berthon Please Don’t Give Up .......................................................................... 87Livonne Larkins A Spoonful of Sugar ............................................................................ 22Michelle Brown In Bloom ................................................................................................ 86Misha Maddock Untitled .................................................................................................. 51Monique Donaldson Queen Maarsda .................................................................................. 40Nicki Basedow Walkabout to Calvary ........................................................................ 24Olivia Cassidy Wylde Kayla ..................................................................................................... 96Peter Ball Quayside (after the carnival) ............................................................ 18Renae Puckeridge Lost ........................................................................................................ 58Robert Perceval Jaguar .................................................................................................. 15Sally Gersbach Before the Years .................................................................................. 42Suba Bale Shadows of my mind........................................................................... 54Therese Corbett Not Another Bloody Landscape ...................................................... 124Tilly Jefferson Evie and her Blue Fringe ..................................................................... 33PHOTOGRAPHYAalia Rayoso The hidden colour of nature .............................................................. 79Alexandra Holmes 2020 behind the mask (Spirit IV) ....................................................... 113Andrew Norris The childhood nostalgia of nature ................................................... 97Angela Coppack I’m watching you ................................................................................ 29Danielle Joy Golding Frances and her Art Group ................................................................ 45Delilah Recovery ........................................................................................... 116Elphus Mahariel one line, one colour, one needle at a time - I live .......................... 68Graham Lonard Spring smiles ......................................................................................... 78Helen Andrews What Lies Beneath .............................................................................. 32Janet Hollister Endeavour Gardens ......................................................................... 109Jessica Stevenson Living on the edge ............................................................................. 70Karen Stevenson Pretty in Pink ....................................................................................... 126Laura Barr Hope ................................................................................................... 106Livonne Larkins Which Me Will I Wake With? ............................................................... 50Michael Loughman Australia’s Alaska ............................................................................... 112Michelle Murtha Changeling .......................................................................................... 56Misha Maddock Supportive ............................................................................................ 82Nicki Basedow Primulas ............................................................................................... 123Nicolas Cooper Unlikely friends .................................................................................... 115Peter Byrnes Guardian Angel ................................................................................. 120Suba Bale Self Love ............................................................................................ 119Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 6 26/10/2020 1:24:58 PM

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7SCULPTUREAdam Mieth  The loose cannon .............................................................................. 100Alexandra Holmes  Creating hope where once there was none ................................. 127Karen Stevenson  Distorted Reection ............................................................................. 12Katoomba High School Year 8 Ceramics Class Together ................................................. 36Kit Wing Fu  We all wear it differently ................................................................... 117Lee Mitchell  The Bipolar All Stars Watch Over Me  ................................................ 52Livonne Larkins  A Heart of Gold ................................................................................... 83Monique Donaldson  Menagerie ............................................................................................ 53TEXTILESAalia Rayoso Buttery on Your Right Shoulder ......................................................... 64Alexandra Holmes  You Are Enough - afrmations for when all hope is lost ................ 101Ivy Grant  Everyone Needs a Betty ..................................................................... 38Janet Hollister  After the last embers ......................................................................... 118Jessica Stevenson  Mother’s Embrace ............................................................................. 108Karen Stevenson  Burn ..................................................................................................... 103Livonne Larkins  Lost My Head In A Book ...................................................................... 73Misha Maddock  Buttoned ............................................................................................... 44Monique Donaldson  Blue Gold Vest ..................................................................................... 95POETRYAbbie Payne  Sciamachy ......................................................................................... 107Alexandra Holmes  Mr Dan .................................................................................................. 37Bethany Evans  Permission to Evaporate ..................................................................... 23Brian Bell  If I Was ................................................................................................... 62Charli Crisford-Eade  The Forest .............................................................................................. 57Chloe Flanagan  She is Water .......................................................................................... 34Clair Duncan  Neither Here Nor There ....................................................................... 13Geoffrey Thomas (Breeze) By Heart and By Hand ............................................................. 98Glen Fisher  Stop hiding the faults ........................................................................ 125Jennifer Trezise The Rooster Man .................................................................................. 76Kate Santleben  2020 Snapshot: Blue Mountains ......................................................... 39Kit Wing Fu   Anxiety .................................................................................................. 71Lillie Hughes  The Beast .............................................................................................. 20Livonne Larkins  The Grave of Broken Dreams ............................................................. 41Louise Loomes  Divide your life into chapters ............................................................. 19Lucy Hatton  Keys ....................................................................................................... 16Lulu Joy  Take a Bough Mz Fizz ........................................................................... 48Marita Schlink  A Day in the Life................................................................................. 122Nicki Basedow  Freak of Nature .................................................................................... 65Rachel Corrigan  Tonight ................................................................................................ 104Ross Barclay Bridle  Behind the Mask. (of a Veteran) ....................................................... 14Suba Bale  Memory ................................................................................................ 31SHORT STORIESClair Duncan  The Phone Call ..................................................................................... 80Danielle Joy Golding  The Actor walks in Again .................................................................... 59Diana Harley  Bad Thing .............................................................................................. 84Jennifer Trezise  The Rooster Man .................................................................................. 92Kate Santleben  H & M and The Others ......................................................................... 47Lillie Hughes  Dee ....................................................................................................... 66Lucy Hatton  Clay ....................................................................................................... 27Lulu Joy  Flaw To Ceiling Fan.............................................................................. 74Marita Schlink  To be or not to be ............................................................................... 88Rachel Corrigan  The Statue........................................................................................... 1107Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 7 26/10/2020 1:24:58 PM

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8IMPORTANT NOTE.Some of the work in this collection makes reference to subjects that may be emotionally challenging or triggering for some readers. A trigger warning appears at the top of the relevant pages.If you are experiencing a personal crisis and need help or support, please contact Lifeline on 13 11 14 or visit their website at www.lifeline.org.au to chat online.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 8 26/10/2020 1:24:59 PM

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9THE COLLECTED WORKS9Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 9 26/10/2020 1:24:59 PM

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10Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 10 26/10/2020 1:24:59 PM

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11Give me my owers while I can still smell them digital art 30cm x 30cmHarry GersbachArtMy artwork explores the complex relationships that exist between nature and technology, with a focus on the one between humans and the internet. The artwork contains a photo I took of a ower, which I digitally altered in a way that I believe corrupted its natural beauty yet simultaneously divulged some new kind of beauty. The artwork’s title, which I appropriated from an album by Blu & Exile, cryptically appears on the artwork in the Wingdings font.11Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 11 26/10/2020 1:25:00 PM

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12Distorted Reection paper mache clay, acrylic paint 63cm x 24cm x 22cmKaren StevensonSculptureAs a teenager, and a constant battle with poor body image due to constant bullying through high school, I have created these voluptuous beauties as a tribute to women and all their perfect imperfections. How we people can sometimes only see what is directly in front of us and not the true person inside.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 12 26/10/2020 1:25:01 PM

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13NNeither Here nor There Clair DuncanPoetryNeither up in mood, nor down, Neither old in age, nor young, Neither fully grey, nor bottled blonde, Neither secure in work, nor unemployed, Neither clear of mind, nor cloudy, Neither sure of foot, nor stumbling, Neither here in the now, nor an eye on tomorrow, Neither fussed by much, nor passionate, Neither energetic, nor inert, Neither rich in wealth, nor struggling, Neither maritally blissful, nor terminally bored, Neither committed friend, nor cut-off loner, Neither super mum, nor absent mum, Neither fully t, nor awfully ill, Neither fully stable, nor unsound of mind, Neither mentally stimulated, nor totally unchallenged. Not Peter of Neverland Just Patron of Neitherland Capital: Ambivalence Population: unknown and subject to change Languages spoken: nonchalance and a dialect of uncommitted Best known for: excellence in ‘limbo’ Currency: coins of indecision and notes of self-pity Political Party: in the middle with left-leaning tendencies corrected by right-leaning aspirations Social Economic Status: middle-class by virtue of the timely payment of bills; will never attain upward social mobility by virtue of an enduring debt Main attractions: nothing of specic note – all aspects are a celebration of mediocrity and thus accessible and palatable to most visitors and sightseers.13Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 13 26/10/2020 1:25:01 PM

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14SBehind the “Mask” (Of a Veteran)Ross Barclay BridlePoetrySometimes he is tornBetween the real world and his mind.The ever-present cloud of fear,Walking that ne line.Often at his limit,The angst of horror pending.Life is easier in his “cave”,Anxiety never-ending.Fifty years, that constant fear -Afraid of crowds and noises.Still “at war” in daily life,“Survive the day” - No other choices.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 14 26/10/2020 1:25:01 PM

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15Jaguar acrylic on canvas board 28cm x 35cmRobert PercevalArt15Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 15 26/10/2020 1:25:02 PM

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16AKeysLucy HattonYouth PoetryA smile and laugh With crinkled-up eyes As she looks around herself, Feeling as if she’s cloaked In warmth. Being here, she thinks Will be easy, Because I think that they Already like me. Looking behind, She feels warmth Seep From her bones. Into the cold of the world She gazes. They don’t, They don’t like me here. She notes this in her head Of course. Nobody cares Enough to listen to That. Why would it be Any Other Way? She looks to the black The bleakness No longer glowing With familiarity and laughter And things that she needs. Why Would They? Why would anyone Be here With her If they didn’t have to be? She feels the cold Seep into her bones Instead, Where there once Was warmth. Not Any More. Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 16 26/10/2020 1:25:02 PM

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17Ebenezer Church SA acrylic on canvas 40cm x 30cmChristopher DerrickArtI lived in Walla Walla, NSW years ago. In the 1860s a group of people from Ebenezer in South Australia relocated to Walla Walla, and they took their church with them. I painted the church there, copying an old picture I have of it.17Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 17 26/10/2020 1:25:03 PM

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18Quayside (after the carnival) charcoal on paper 2020 90cm x 60cmPeter BallArtBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 18 26/10/2020 1:25:05 PM

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19DDivide Your Life into Chapters.Louise LoomesPoetryDivide your life into chapters.Chapter one.What do you remember?There were stairs reaching to heaven and nuns in white.Chinese buttons on silk pyjamas.And something that broke that night and made your brother cry.Chapter two.Ask yourself if it’s enough.Is it enough that intentions were good? That you meant no harm?Were you wrong to pretend she didn’t exist just like he insisted?Or that you cried silently to show that brave girls don’t cry?Chapter three.Take the day and show the moments that mattered.The big moments of shame and the little ones too:The day he pushed you away because you were too big for a cuddleAnd too small to know he was wrong.In Chapter four you wonder what to do with the rest that won’t leave you alone.Because it’s the quiet moments that stir deep in the soulAnd ask over and over and over For your moment of absolution.Like the day when Auntie Molly taught you macramé in a shared intimacy passed down through generations of Irish women who said everything in the quick movement of practical hands.Poor white hands that must have felt familiar once or twice.Poor white hands that were as deft with a needle as a tear that ran recalcitrant down the cheek. Auntie Molly who had asked for love in return but died waiting.There’s a conclusion to be drawn somewhere – a point to be made, a resolution found, an end written.But it’s an elusive somewhere and never always in the introduction.Introductions are a difcult fumble-about language or even no-language.Conclusions are the point we get to when the words come and the book closes in our lap.19Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 19 26/10/2020 1:25:05 PM

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20The BeastLillie HughesYouth PoetryTrigger Warning: This written work contains reference to violence.SSlimy, black tentacles grab my throatI see the beast,I acknowledge the beast,I feel the beast.Slithering, midnight claws slash my wristsI spy the beast,I accept the beast,I fear the beast.Sinful, inky antennae trace my bodyI identify the beast,I recognise the beast,I now become the beast.The beast takes over my senses.My vision is grey,My sense of smell slowly diminishes,My taste is weak,My feelings numb,My hearing declines.I am a sh.I am stupid,I am trapped,I am forgetful.I am a bird.I am annoying,I am stuck,I am short-lived.The beast does not care for my pitiful thoughts.The beast does not show sympathy for those who have sinned.The beast refuses to share his true opinions.The beast shall never reveal his true form.He is a ghost,He blends into the crowd.He is a dead rose,He dulls the ambience.20Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 20 26/10/2020 1:25:05 PM

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21He is death,He does not smile,Nor does he frown.He does not cry,Nor does he lie.You can’t escape himNot if you run,Not if you hide.Not if you cry in your bed,Not if you show him to your friends who you conde in.He doesn’t like it when you tell people about him.He’s selsh,He’s mean and he doesn’t care about you.He forces thoughts into your head.The screams become louder when you don’t obey him.He’s angry at me, I know it.He’s here with me, but he won’t show it.He wants you gone, he wants you low.He wants you dead, you will see Hell’s iridescent glow.His tentacles surround you,You’re his next kill.He’s done with me,But he still hasn’t had his ll.21Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 21 26/10/2020 1:25:05 PM

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22A Spoonful of Sugar mixed media 40cm x 40cmLivonne LarkinsArtThe day I nished my last treatment for breast cancer, I was so relieved that I wanted to celebrate by creating this. Everyday I travelled for treatment I had listened to the Magic Faraway Tree which was my spoonful of sugar that helped the medicine go down. The spoon was my Mum’s and I could almost hear her singing the song to me so it had to be the centrepiece.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 22 26/10/2020 1:25:06 PM

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23LPermission to EvaporateBethany EvansPoetryLong white toes curled into new grass like grubs,distant eyes lifted to beyond.Learning her own lost life,her hum entered the earth - gathered, then -returned through her bare soles.Intensity billowed, built through her bodyburst from her opened throat, a melodyof mourning mounting to the heavens,a rapidly rising column declaring her dispossession.Shell shed in a shock of ecdysis:exuvial self heaved off,leaving behind her shame-lined skin.A zephyr breathes, inhalesall she cannot voice, exhalespermission to evaporate.23Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 23 26/10/2020 1:25:06 PM

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24Walkabout to Calvary acrylic on canvas 75cm x 60cmNicki BasedowArtI was inspired by the Cross and Aboriginal painting as Aboriginal peoples are very talented with their artwork.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 24 26/10/2020 1:25:07 PM

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25Flowers from Our Garden mixed media 28cm x 28cmJanet HollisterArtFrom my environment these oral paintings are taken from the garden circling Endeavour Apartments before the res in the Mountains had not made local danger to us. The oral image using paint.25Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 25 26/10/2020 1:25:08 PM

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26Eight out of ten men black pen, white pencil on grey mattboard 82cm x 100cmJennifer TreziseArtThis is one of my drawings from Falling Through the Cracks, a series of works in which I have explored the desperate, the forgotten, the no longer recognisable people in our society. The invisible. People who have fallen through the cracks, as well as those who have evaded and manipulated the ‘system’ and those who are deviously in hiding. Although some of the faces might be recognised, they are devoid of names which would personalise their identity. My subjects, although based on real people, are nameless.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 26 26/10/2020 1:25:09 PM

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27ClayLucy HattonYouth Short StoryOObedience. That was what I had been forced into; all that I understood. It was natural for me to keep my head down, looking only at the feet of the people who passed me by as if I was dust in the wind. Nothing I did was important enough to warrant attention, apart from whenever I did something wrong. In those instances, it was as if they had grown hawk eyes; vicious, trained only to seize the opportunity to strike. Yet, I idolized them as if they were the ideal models for my life.I didn’t realize the harm that they were causing me, even though it was obvious. It was a whisper-quiet sort of harm, like a bomb set to go off that grew hotter to the touch with every ticking second. Perfectly engineered to be ignored, to be deniable. They smiled at me, but only when everyone was watching. It felt suffocating, not being able to speak around them. A brittle trust, halfway to breaking apart.I would try and smother my presence. If nobody noticed where I was or what I was doing, then surely, I wouldn’t get in trouble? That was what I thought, and naivety was seeping through. I looked at the world through rose-coloured glasses, if only to protect myself from the criticism. I wanted the two gures to at least open their arms to me, but they remained shut tightly. Locked away under shells of scalding words.And when I nally reached out to them, everything froze in time until the trouble melted away. Then it wasn’t anyone’s issue but mine. They drifted apart from me, yet the words they had told me rang so loudly in my ears, carefully crafted to work away at and erode my future. It was painful, but I could never muster the courage and form the sentences enough to tell them how I felt.As if I’d have wanted to.Though they had never done anything but twist away themselves, there was always an adverse reaction when I did the same: a sigh, an eye-rolling, a glance of ‘how could you do this to me?’. It was hypocritical, but who was I to say anything? They were, are and will always be my superiors. I watch, with bated breath, for the ticking clock to usher in my next phase of life. Maybe they won’t seem to care so much?I’m always looking to the future, but maybe I won’t have one. The voices continue to rattle around in my skull, a relentless barrage of phrases from all ages. Slowly, I have felt that their positivities and praises are fading from my memories. They aren’t demons, but they’ve surely done the work of the devil in allowing my mentality to become like this.I don’t know why. Aren’t they supposed to love me? Have I not tried hard enough? They’re pushing the others to higher heights and leaving me to drown. Seaweed tangles around my legs, now, and I’m only trying my best to breathe. Can’t they see that, at least? My skin reddens in their gaze for a million reasons, and that is only one. Maybe they expect me to be ne, like the others in the sky.I can’t really explain their thought processes. But I wouldn’t advise asking, lest they push anyone else away as they have done to me countless times. I don’t want anyone to be hurt, which is why I might seem a lot more concerned for the health of others rather than myself these days.It wasn’t always the same as the present. Unfortunately, I can’t personally remember when they were, but photos gleam in albums, telling of a better time. I look down at them sometimes – despite not wanting photos, detesting how I look, for veiled comments had been made on that front many times – and wonder when everything really changed. When they felt challenged by me enough to react like this.It was then, when I could form sentences to the extent where I could speak out against them.But I think I’ve changed because of that voice. I’m not the golden child that I was; I refuse to sit around and have them shape me to their idealisms like potters’ hands to clay. The clock has ticked over, the bomb defused, the seaweed rotting away. That wasn’t who I really am; the world has grown and changed around me, and I needed to adapt whether or not they wanted me to. I need to be my own person. After all, the fact remains.Wounded animals will rear when cornered, and strength will nally nd its place in their bones.27Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 27 26/10/2020 1:25:09 PM

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28Difcult times call for desperate measures. Especially in 2020. We can easily lose hope, the voice of self doubt can creep in, and we can end up feeling like we are just not good enough. But we are, we always are. Even in our darkest moments. Even in your darkest moments, you are enough. This work is a collection of real life reminders, real reasons why you are good enough. Even when all hope is lost, you ARE enough.You Are Enough - Reminders for when all hope is lost pen on paper 37cm x 45cmAlexandra HolmesArtBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 28 26/10/2020 1:25:10 PM

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29I’m watching you photograph 45cm x 30cmAngela CoppackPhotographySometimes i feel like this Perentie; that i am trapped in my own nightmare. All I can do is watch others and hope that I can emulate some kind of resemblance of ‘normal’ until I’m able to build up my own power and begin to set myself free.29Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 29 26/10/2020 1:25:11 PM

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30Get Loose Mary acrylic on canvas 40cm x 50cmJayke BurgessArtFinding a place for me to relax, let loose, challenging myself not to be perfect, to laugh and be whimsy. Animals and silly makes me feel free.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 30 26/10/2020 1:25:13 PM

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31MemorySuba BalePoetryMillions of thoughtsall at the same timePrecious memories Loved in LifeHonoured in deathCherished in memoryReecting on the energies of each interactionsMemoriesBeautiful memoriesMiss you31Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 31 26/10/2020 1:25:13 PM

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32What Lies Beneath photograph 42cm X 28cmHelen AndrewsPhotographyIn the 1980s I became interested in art therapy and have always enjoyed photography. “What Lies Beneath” is a self portrait in response to a camera club competition. The image is not a sele but a shell consisting of two objects disguising my identity. While this may not fulll the criteria of a self portrait I believe the image is surprisingly revealing.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 32 26/10/2020 1:25:13 PM

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33Evie and her Blue Fringe mixed media 20cm x 29cmTilly JeffersonYouth ArtI enjoy art because if it was a person it would deal with anything. When I’m angry, I scribble with oil pastels to the point where they snap, when I’m sad, I draw as many rain drops as the page can t, when I’m happy, I ll the book with unicorns to the point where people start to become unicorns because I’ve run out of paper. Always be yourself...unless you can be a unicorn.... then ALWAYS be a unicorn!33Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 33 26/10/2020 1:25:14 PM

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34She is WaterChloe FlanaganYouth PoetryShe is water, quiet and easy going,Slips through your ngers without you ever knowing.Whilst there are questions to be asked,Answers she should nd,She prefers her thoughts remain in her own mind.Jet black hair streams past her eyes,Plunging down deep, the perfect disguise.Then silently slipping to the surface, so still,Watching as others act of free will.Reluctant to talk,So eager to be heard,How much can be said without speaking a word?Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 34 26/10/2020 1:25:14 PM

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35Contemplation watercolour paint on Archer watercolour paper 20cm x 27cmHenry BeckettArt‘The painting is a copy of a Pre Raphalite work where the subject is thinking about something other than what she is doing, she is somewhere else even though she is there in the physical, she is gone.’35Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 35 26/10/2020 1:25:15 PM

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36Together ceramics and sticks 20cm x 70cm x 80cmKatoomba High School Year 8 Ceramics ClassYouth SculptureThis collaborative artwork by Year 8 ceramics class is a response to the angst and mayhem by the bush res and virus. Art is a uniting force. Making these sculptures together is a cathartic experience.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 36 26/10/2020 1:25:16 PM

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37TMr. Dan Alexandra HolmesPoetryThere was a bloke named Mr. Dan,He was a small and crumpled man.He wobbled through this world alone,Like something from the Twilight Zone.Never one to blow his own horn,He worked until his pants were worn.And so he ew from room to room,Riding an electric broom.There he wobbled down the road,Talking to Jim (that’s his pet toad)Philosophising with the best,Pausing by The Pigeon’s Nest.So Dan and Jim, and the Barman, Ted,Spoked of all the times they’d shared.And after a pint of scrumpy mead,He wobbled off to his next deed.His broom would always start rst time,And it could turn on a plastic dime.With more horsepower than anyone’s car,The cleaniest cleaner you’ve seen, by far!Room after room after room after room,Mr. Dan and his wobble and a ash of his broom.With the “SPARKLE 3000” (way better than a Dyson)He could clean the whole world, even vacuum a bison.Mr. Dan is still working, some might call it hell,But look at it sparkle, and it don’t even smell.So when you’re out somewhere and you stop and you think,Mr. Dan might be why the place doesn’t stink.37Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 37 26/10/2020 1:25:16 PM

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38Everyone needs a Betty mixed material 30cm x 40cmIvy GrantTextilesThis little lovely is for my Mum, Betty. All materials are bits and pieces from her sewing table. Betty displays a level of unconditional love, aceptance and kindness that the world needs and when she smiles it is like sunshine.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 38 26/10/2020 1:25:17 PM

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392020 snapshot: Blue MountainsKate SantlebenPoetryTTriumvirate of re, ood and pestilenceWuhan the origin of pestilenceEntire world affectedNearer to home were the resThen the oodsYear of 2020 with its repeating numbers will, we all hope, never be repeated39Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 39 26/10/2020 1:25:17 PM

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40Queen Maarsda acrylic on canvas 60cm x 75cmMonique DonaldsonArtThe royal tetrapod is a medicine creature and a symbol of healing the primal core of our being. She is ancient and represents intelligence even though she is a creature before the dinosaurs.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 40 26/10/2020 1:25:18 PM

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41The Grave of Broken DreamsLivonne LarkinsPoetryII try not to upset you, always careful with my wordI can’t even think straight, my world seems strangely blurredHateful words and raised hands, what does it help you gainI can’t do this anymore, I’m tired of the painDon’t tell me it’s love that makes you do this to meI can stand the pain no longer.. Please let me be freeLooking over my shoulder, wondering where you areAre you hiding in the shadows, have I left the door ajarWill I wake again to nd you standing by the bedI can’t do this anymore, I’m so tired of being scaredDon’t tell me it’s love that makes you do this to meI can’t stand the fear no longer... I have to be freeHow can you use the child we made to try to make me stayHow can you hurt the ones I love, and throw their lives awayHow can you stand beside the grave of pain and broken dreamsOblivious to what you’ve done.. and ignore my silent screamsDon’t tell me it’s love that made you do this to meThere’s an emptiness inside me, I can never be free41Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 41 26/10/2020 1:25:18 PM

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42Before the Years copic marker and Neocolor ii Aquarelles on hot press watercolour paper 34cm x 46cmSally GersbachArtA self portrait based on an old photographBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 42 26/10/2020 1:25:19 PM

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43The Movement Of Greed digital art print 100cm x 100cmChae Peter RuffoArtThe Movement Of Greed is my rst entry into blue fringe. I’ve always loved art and only recently I’ve found a creative outlet in digital art.43Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 43 26/10/2020 1:25:20 PM

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44Buttoned buttons and cord 40cm x 40cmMisha MaddockTextilesRecycled jewelry attempt for fun and whatnotBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 44 26/10/2020 1:25:21 PM

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45Frances and her Art Group photograph 20cm x 30cmDanielle Joy GoldingPhotographyI have enjoyed photography over the years, although I’m also involved in the arts, this real photo from an art group and the teacher on a visit to a gallery, I think this is quiet artisitic and modern, thus I have selected it to be in Blue Fringe. It is a little avant guarde if you look at the composition and darkness of the photo and arrangement and a little sureal if you look at it as well. I am continuing with arts and photography, happy to share this with Blue Fringe.45Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 45 26/10/2020 1:25:21 PM

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46Resilience mosaic 20cm x 20cmChristine StickleyArtWe were walking along the ridgeline of the Upper Grose at Mt Victoria some months after the devestating bushres there earlier in 2020. Some of the trees were pitch black and the ground was grey. It was like walking in another world, so quiet. Bursting from the trunks of the trees were bright, soft, shining leaves of red and green, brilliant in the low afternoon sun. Green shoots were emerging from the parched grey soils. My artwork captures a space between the still white-barked Scribbly Gums and those blackened gums, where there is a sign of new life blossoming forward.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 46 26/10/2020 1:25:22 PM

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47H & M and the OthersKate SantlebenShort StoryHH & M woke feeling peevish. Flicking on a screen, it showed native tribespeople going about their business. The right ears of the males suddenly rose upwards and slightly sideways to turn into spinning black drills. Some of the drills pierced a neighbour’s hand; others became pinned to tree trunks. The latter were left to continue drilling into the tree until the tribesman expired. Asphyxiated perhaps. The sound of women screaming lled the air. H & M swiped left and studied the sailors swarming up the ratlines to reef the topsails. Zooming into the water slicked face of one sailor while toggling a wave to come closer, the pretty face didn’t look so pretty now as it hurtled towards the sea. Next came a city scene. Crowded; smoggy. Refreshing really after all that storm at sea water. Towers came into view. One, then two. Twin towers you could say. Closing in through the windows the worker bees became larger. Some were getting coffee and donuts – the latter not good for their teeth – some were photocopying, some standing around and talking, or sitting in their ergonomic chairs looking at screens. H & M liked the duality of looking at a screen looking at them doing the same. One worker bee was tucked away in a corner ofce playing a game against the computer. With a quick glance at the sky, H & M saw a plane pierce the uffy clouds. A laptop tap brought the plane and the corner ofce together. Wasn’t the result the game player intended. H & M turned to show The Others before turning back to the screens. Funny how grief has momentary lapses of forgettingness. The last of The Others had gone. No-one left to share ideas; no-one left to playfully refer to him as H & M or reverently as High and Mighty. They’d all worked together for so long to bring about good. Penicillin had been one of many successes and they’d relished its usefulness. Sad how nearly a century later, it had become too useful and therefore at times useless. H & M longed anew for those times to be restored. H & M shrank thinking on how The Others would view the Brexit machinations. Even the Australians on the other side of the globe were discussing it over their smashed avo at cafes. An avocado blight would give them something else to think about. Many of their ancestors had emigrated after the success of the Irish potato famine … The Others wouldn’t have endorsed that blight either let alone what happened at Wuhan. H & M noticed a screen showing a woman working from home at her kitchen table with primary aged children sitting at the other end. The children were giggling over craft glitter scattering on the oor. Zooming in closer H & M saw the card they were making. They were edging the love heart with glued on multi-coloured glitter. Mother’s Day? Birthday? Just because? The Mum looked like she was trying to ignore them but her suppressed smile and blinking eyes gave her away. What was she trying to work on? H & M saw calculations …. Covid survivor proles … immunisation trial statistics … The Others would want her to succeed. H & M wanted her to succeed. A warm glow suffused H & M’s being. 47Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 47 26/10/2020 1:25:22 PM

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48TAKE A BOUGH MZ FIZZLulu JoyPoetryDEAR GOD… I searched for You high ‘n’ low In the dark In the lightI needed You! Your comfort wisdom insightYou were hiding! Tight-lipped! Not even a whisper? What about a wink? An omnipotent nod?But What About Me? Betrayed by My church! My Trinity! My Tribe! How very odd?My best friend said: “You’re too committed too intense, too ….one of a kind”Why did I “Seek the Lord with all my heart and soul”?He didn’t mind! … “never mind”All nothingness! All silence! My faith’s death knell!Solitary connement… Bat Outa’ HELL?TThe pastor’s wife I’m here to meet Public place Picnic seat No Bible BeatI’m here early at The Little Teapot Café Hand-writing my Br..Br..Braveheart S..S..SayShe’s already here, beckons me,I shrink I think “NOooo…. not yet”She Storms Over… …. Breathe…. I blink ‘n’ blink “Don’t be nervous pet”I clutch her gift – a kids book she couldn’t resist… …. Evangelizing …. so what is the moral gist?Fiz the Flying Fox ventures far from homeLost…. Scared…. All Alone!Fiz’s dad, like God our Father… He’s here…. Always Near His Own!…. My poem punches the air… in the mist…… Fantasizing …. these here words a protest st! 48Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 48 26/10/2020 1:25:22 PM

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49I return Fiz The Flying Fox to her “This book’s for someone else! It missed!”But not before I slip my Say inside…. My truth! I seal my fate! We kissed!The Storm’s Over! …Breathe… My journey is the antithesis of Your Every Word! I’m IN-verted… OUT-lawed…My faith is too good for… Yes… Dare I say… Even You My Dear Lord!No google map! No family tree! No heavenly home! I back myself! I dare to go it alone!No Hers ‘n’ His! It’s just me ‘n’ Fiz Just me! Just a Fizz?It’s Me Me Me! Hanging upside down in this tall treeNot a pathology! My very own theology! My new holy trinity! Faithful ‘n’ Free!WELCOME HOME FIZ!49Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 49 26/10/2020 1:25:22 PM

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50Which Me Will I Wake With? photograph 99cm x 39.5cmLivonne LarkinsPhotographyShe would lay in bed at night, wondering which version of herself she would wake up with the next day... In the morning, meeting her face in the mirror, would it be a joy or a heartache. The dreams of the night before lingered and helped set the mood for the approaching hours. Happy, sad, scared, hopeful, hopeless, inspired, excited. Every day brought a new mood.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 50 26/10/2020 1:25:23 PM

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51Untitled gloss coated pour in acrylic 40cm x 40cmMisha MaddockArtBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 51 26/10/2020 1:25:24 PM

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52The Bipolar All Stars Watch Over Merepurposed mixed media 65cm x 80cm x 30cmLee MitchellSculptureMental illness can make you feel totally alone. But we exist thanks to the struggles and sacrices of those who came before us. Those who fought against insurmountable odds and helped shape the world we live in.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 52 26/10/2020 1:25:25 PM

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53Menagerie porcelain 16cm X 25cm X 25cmMonique DonaldsonSculptureThis display bowl is a symbol of spring with its fun creatures and long grass and mushroom. It was made out of porcelain clay and red in the Blue Mountains.53Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 53 26/10/2020 1:25:25 PM

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54Shadows of my Mindpaint on canvas/scanned/digitally enhanced 31cm x 31cmSuba BaleArtShadows Of My Mind explores the emotions and feelings. The interpretation of this artwork is open in the hope it makes it more personal and allows the viewer (you) to decide the meaning. The artist is self-taught in her creative process.Survival (opposite page) acrylic on canvas 61cm x 110cmKaren StevensonArtInspired by the 2019/20 res. Many years ago I was trapped in a petrol vehicle that was supplying a local CFS crew, re raging next to the old 4WD tapping on the window, melting the paint and trim. An image, a moment that has contributed to my complex PTSD. Any re now creates enourmous anxiety. The single green leaf represents my survival!Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 54 26/10/2020 1:25:26 PM

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5555Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 55 26/10/2020 1:25:27 PM

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56Changeling photograph 16cm x 24cmMichelle MurthaPhotographyChangelings are children stolen by fairies or the fairy children that replace them. Here the changeling searches for a place while their appearance continues to mark them as otherworldly.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 56 26/10/2020 1:25:29 PM

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57The ForestCharli Crisford-EadeYouth Poetry57Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 57 26/10/2020 1:25:30 PM

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58Lost acrylic on canvas 90cm x 60cm Renae PuckeridgeArtWhen I painted this piece I wanted to expresses the feeling of being lost or swallowed by our surroundings, a disconnection of reality but strangely still connected to the universe. It is a space I often live in and have somewhat learnt to manage.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 58 26/10/2020 1:25:31 PM

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59TThe Actor Walks In AgainDanielle Joy Golding Short StoryThere I am, minding my own business in my own sector, keeping to my own lot, where our dreams actually do walk, in and out, and actually never stop.From here I can’t see him, moving closer to the counter, can see and hear voices as he converses with the shop manager, I move capitulated. He has come again into the shop here, where my life and age have become precariously balanced everyday, until done, himself, and my desperate balance of self, I am invaded by this profundity, what desperate view of him, I venerate him anyway. I am in my workspace, a rarity, what intrusion? What a well conceived visit,Today, yes thankyou, but I admire him.Such a brush with fame, as it walks into my line of vision, as it doesn’t really touch me, lost, This character, I hope I’ve even seen his lms his repitoire, for the betterment of the Australian lm industry, the Australian intelligentsia, some are actors that gather, partriotism, at best.We assume the participation of our world, this centrication to the lm industry ,Which year did he graduate from lm school? The dramatic institute of dramatic Art?I can see he is a credit to the industry, I am proud of national emancipation, And tell pray tell how does he happen to walk into our shop, our opportunity shop?Humble and local? Into the room and into the mind, as hallucinations walk by in stark daylight on the outside street, horses, spiders, the unnameable.When the ladies but gasp and smile at him, I am attracted by sounds, but only frown, But i have patience, and to say thankyou as I see him cross the lines that are barriers, And there on the television, it is for us, to bear the enfringing copywrite of the corners of my mind, engaging itself in reality.For a minute I recognize something, the psychic said something, that he wants to send an image of himself? I was attered and became curious , and that I had said something, social mores that have been cured, there in need there is a connection, somewhere. And my psychic remains adamant, that he wants to know me or what, Merely in a minor role at present my grandiosity will later shine, enhanced,I have travelled far to this day, I imagine or focus on dramatic looks, and on screen presence, he acts, I play, he acts, etc.Every role is a great move for him, hey , remember Jimmy dean? a similarity? Do you see?I might have agreed with that when he threw his rags into the shop, then Regretted and spoke to a group of mannequins, in the denim jacket, we were here as it was said,The lines to history were read aloud, like Gorky Park itself.I was attentive to every inch of movement, waited on him in vicitude, and visibility,A dream an appealing visit? His directions to us to act upon, What an actor, does and says and discards, Laughter, it is good for a girl to work, I had just a job had just been employed,And there was I fresh from college, catching up again on the Scene, New and breathing from TAFE ?And as I see he doesn’t know me, but I have had, visions again,Late night acts on t.v., the. crew raid the situation, acts of salvation, and merciful gratication,I don’t need a contribution I am needless , I am just watching the return of Oscar Wilde,And society, would assume things, I see a dream, another train carriage, on the downtown trian,A changeable reality? Or just a larger character ?Into the shadows, as this serves as an introduction, the wealth of the character, gure, whomI give correct homage,Practically a Buddha, and the swans among us line up, and the highwaymen stand as well, An innocuous meeting repeated ocassionally,And expression or so regretted again, our demure ways have prevented us again.Save me from this deja-vous.59Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 59 26/10/2020 1:25:31 PM

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60Juxtaposition of the Fall digital art using Illustrator 33cm x 100cmAndrew NorrisArtAs the sun sets on this age - I shed a tear of what could have been - of the good and the bad within us all - to seek to overcome has it’s bane - of the damage done by what was overcome - tends to prevail what has been achieved - in this place of reection - is the juxtaposition of the fallBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 60 26/10/2020 1:25:31 PM

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61Untitledacrylic 41cm x 30cmAdam MiethArtBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 61 26/10/2020 1:25:32 PM

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62If I WasBrian BellPoetryWWere I an artist,colours palleted at my ready,decades of practice allowing meto portray visions beyondthe skies we all reach for,canvas totally receptive,I just might derive some fame. Were I a sculptor,ne concepts tooling my ngers,able to chip unwanted particles from shapeless granite,leaving gures wondered at and adored, then I might achieve recognition. Were I a novelist,keyboard capable,creating stories such that the whole worldstopped to second guess how my work would nish,perhaps my name would grace magazine covers worldwide. Were I a movie director,honing stories and fashioning sets,transforming clear lm to glowing memories,reminding people of my work whenever a title is mentioned,then I could be well remembered. Should I become a great vocalist,crisp notes lling the ether,audience ever waiting to applaud,hands deafening all within great halls and stadiums,then I would surely be remembered. Were I a great inventor,taking worldwide problems into my hands,nding in my imagination pathways to elegant solutions,fashioning cures ready to patent,that all may save time and energy,there is a good chance I would be noticed. And could I be a famed evangelistquoting biblical lessons and paradoxes,soothing sinners on their journey to the light,hosting radio shows to comfort millions,then my name might outlast my tombstone. 62Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 62 26/10/2020 1:25:32 PM

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63Should I train and study in politics,lead my country into unheard-of prosperity,approbation surrounding my every move,ashlights lling my public view,then I may become more than a newspaper entry. But, alas, I am but a oundering poetthe full stop after every great singer’s words,the discoloured spot on every sculpture,the poorly placed daub at the edge of every artistic canvas,the false hope in every great novel,the unread chapter in life’s bible,the last but one attempt on Edison’s road to the light,the election lost to voter ckleness,the near-empty theatre in time’s eternal parade of movies.Yes, just a poet. 63Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 63 26/10/2020 1:25:32 PM

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64My inspiration for this artwork is the traditional Japanese Kimono and traditional origami. The colour palette I used came from a clip for a song “ Buttery on your right shoulder” by a Japanese virtual singing group called Vocaloids.Buttery on Your Right Shouldermixed material 180cm x 100cm x 30cmAalia RayosoYouth TextilesBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 64 26/10/2020 1:25:34 PM

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65Freak of NatureNicki BasedowPoetrySuperwoman, you turned up the stars to shine brighterYou want to party, say "Life is cool and calculating"Your existence smells like sweet perfumePeople are all around wanting to devour you like a devilKeep your spirit free from all lies spun from the web of desireEveryone wants to be a superstarPut on your cape Batman I want to see you yDont get caught out when the little things niggle at you by and byCome down to my level SupermanCryptonite will sleep for a whileCome feel my love SupermanWonder woman where is your stingWith you and me this is how we relateHow does it feel to be a freak of natureAlways needing something to satisfy your soulWhen water has washed you cleanCome sit beside your freak of natureand learn from wisdomLove what you wishLove will set you freeLove is life's making.65Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 65 26/10/2020 1:25:34 PM

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66DeeLillie HughesYouth Short StoryII have a friend called Dee. She is quiet and often hides behind me when we meet new people. Although she is lonely and deadly silent, she has a loud, cruel mouth when we’re alone and she often makes me hide my face from the public. It’s okay, don’t worry. She only does it out of love.I have a friend called Dee. She forces me to stare at my meals until I feel sick, purely because she thinks I’ve had enough to eat when I’m starving. She has good qualities too, like how she makes me feel incredibly guilty when I stay in bed all day instead of seeing my friends and family. It’s okay, though. She’s only looking out for me.I have a friend called Dee. She sometimes twists my words and often, she manipulates me and makes me think everyone hates me and no one cares. She hits me often, with her black, slimy hands. She looms over me and watches over my shoulder. It’s okay, though. She just wants me to be safe.I have a friend called Dee. She talks about herself all the time and degrades me when I openmy mouth. Her black eyes pierce into my skull until I’m screaming, but no one can hear me. She says I have to stay quiet or I’ll start annoying everyone and they’ll all hate me. It’s okay, though. She only does it so I don’t get hurt - she told me so.I have a friend called Dee. She follows me all the time, noties me when I mess up and dosomething wrong. She yells in my ear when I say the wrong words. It’s difcult. No one else can hear her but me. She must be lonely, and that’s why she projects it onto me. It’s okay, though. She’s just being loyal to me.Dee sometimes consumes me. She says I’m becoming her. She says I’m cruel and selsh. She plants that black seed in my mind and watches her creation grow into a tree. Its roots prevent me from speaking, from moving, from doing anyathing at all. Staying in bed all day to avoid the construct of reality. Its thorns and branches suffocate me, until I am craving that noose around my neck and that chair to fall. Its vines trap my body so no one can nd it, they twist my friendships. That tree hurts me, incinerates every sweet thought until it’s all ash.Dee sometimes gives me a break. Dee leaves me alone for a few hours but then she can come back stronger. I’m not sure where she goes, but she’s a huge, black mass with no denition or beauty when she visits again. She orders me around, telling me to write my miseries and forcing me to cry every night, numb myself, ignore the world.Dee isn’t my shadow. Dee is me and I am her. She brings me down like we were never friends. She makes me do things I don’t want to and she blinds me, she watches as I stumble and scream in the sudden abyss. She smirks, she laughs, she pushes me further down that hole. I don’t want to be here, it’s dark, cold and so so lonely.Dee traps me. She places me into a cage and clips my wings. She makes me recite Trigger Warning: This written work contains reference to violence.66Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 66 26/10/2020 1:25:34 PM

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67lines into my veins until my own blood drains me. She keeps my imagination running, she forces death and destruction into my brain. She pins me down and stabs me again and again with her words, her knives.Dee threatens to be the end of me.Sometimes, Dee goes away. She lets me take my medication every day and smile before I go to sleep. On rare occasions, I can proudly state that I am happy at the end of a day. I can dream of the city lights and the iridescent glow of a beautiful re instead of that frayed noose around my neck.Dee is gone, she is gone for now.Dee is dead, but I am alive.Dee is me. And I am Dee. I am proud to say Dee is happy and safe.Dee is my friend. She is going to be okay.67Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 67 26/10/2020 1:25:34 PM

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6868Trigger Warning: This written work contains reference to violence, self harm and suicidal thoughts.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 68 26/10/2020 1:25:35 PM

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69one line, one colour, one needle at a time - I live. (previous page) photograph 21cm x 31cmElphus MaharielPhotographyThis is an explanation of why I have tatoos and what they mean to me. It is an honest interpretation of my thoughts and feelings.69Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 69 26/10/2020 1:25:35 PM

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70Living on the edge photography (CANON EOS1300D) 15cm x 10cmJessica StevensonYouth PhotographyUpon an evening drive to Lincoln’s Rock, there happened to be a uffy cloud forming in the distance, quite resembling my mood. I remember clambering up and inside a rock face, then sitting comfortably in the crevice, legs folded as I watched the sun fade away into the landscape among the mountains to the west.I could close my eyes and feel the sun gently kissing my cheeks goodnight, I felt encapsulated by it’s sheer amount of platonic warmth and touch, something I felt myself longing for. As the bright yellow star melted away, so did my restless thoughts, nally feeling at ease after a tough day.The sky turned dour with dark, moody colours and the twinkling stars reappeared once again.What a beautiful way to end the day.Canon EOS1300DBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 70 26/10/2020 1:25:36 PM

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71AnxietyKit Wing FuPoetryWWatch the clock; Time is running short And distress has come to play. My sting, your pain. Fear death and change, Of Danger, Ever-presentYou’re dressed in ribbons and lace, but I’ll Choke you with it Throw the knot into your stomach. I am an impossible puzzle to solve.See through my veil. as the world withers and the parched leaves tumble You’re frozen and breathless Locked up within my grasp as time slows down…I am the ants that crawl under your skin, and the butteries in your belly Claw at us with all your might, but you’ll still be restlessShut out all your friends as I restrain and cage you, gift you sleepless nights and phantom eyes Watching, always watching…Panic Attack Drop dead Fight back Repeat How long can you fake that smile?71Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 71 26/10/2020 1:25:36 PM

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72Integrationdigital art created on iPad Pro using both the Innite Painter app and the Procreate app. 38cm x 38cmAlan BridgesArtThis artwork was created to express some complex feelings that I was having surrounding my mental health.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 72 26/10/2020 1:25:37 PM

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73Lost my Head in a Book paper mache over fabric 170cm x 150cm x 110cmLivonne LarkinsTextilesMy Mum always laughed and said that when I was reading a book, I would lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on..and I wouldn’t notice anyway. She was right. When I was reading, I was safe. I could be someone else, go anywhere, do anything. That’s what I love about reading. It can take you anywhere. It lets you travel without ever moving your feet.73Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 73 26/10/2020 1:25:38 PM

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74Flaw To Ceiling Fan Lulu JoyShort StoryI’m bolting my ankles in…ahhhh that reassuring clunkk… I slowly uncurl, leaning my body along the backboard. My feet begin to rise, my head tips back; I grip the side handles …. the angle of me, the tangle of me, unfurls for the very rst time in fty years. I’m upside down, nally! I’m slowly, tentatively, reversing half a century of gravity, thanks to my inversion machine! Phew! Space inside me, longitudinally, transcending, if only for a few minutes, all the prejudice of being too tall for a girl. You see, I have the height but not the hormones of a man! O, man! Completely upside down now, my plaits sweep the dust into swirls on my oor. Depression and Compression, my chronic companions since my teens, are both on their heads, dizzy, both discombobulated; AND I WISH I COULD STAY HERE FOREVER!I was a lucky, little Skylight, just once! Aged ten, at the Port Fairy Holiday Beach Mission camp, Peter the Clown carries ME on his shoulders…. walking across… the tight rope! I’m LOOKING DOWN at everyone LOOKING UP at me! I’m not scared! I’m the shy showgirl! Don’t tell anyone, but I’m the Queen of the Castle!I’m nearly 55 now, “medically retired” on a Disability Pension, my full time job keeping my mind and body in sync! It’s Seniors Week and a free introductory class is offered at Aerialize – a circus arts organisation. So I’m there with bells on! I’m LOOKING AROUND this gigantic space at all the circus apparatus suspended from the rafters…. I’m hooked! I’m in heaven! I’m home! Just hold your horses, old girl! You’re designed to be sore! You’re destined to be sad! Will that painful pair let you swing on THEIR MONKEY BARS? The Aerialize Youth Troupe are here to assist the ‘golden oldies’… Mat and Eli are allocated to me… the twirling twins who help me into an inverted star with my legs entwined in the silks, the long curtains suspended from the rafters. Then I’m posing, standing on the trapeze bar (albeit three feet above the oor)… on tippy toes. I’m thrilled to my back teeth!From that day forward, I’m having a weekly one-on-one lesson with the best circus skills teacher this side of the black stump!! Helen Lette… Let there be Light! Light inside my body and light inside my mind. I even feel light! I can move and ex and reach and stretch like I’ve never done before. Instead of well-worn pain pathways, I feel suitably sore! Instead of fear and sadness and sorry-for-myself madness, I feel strong and sturdy and sassy (?)… yes, sassy! Helen introduces me to the aerial lyra hoop. She swings herself up into the circular trapeze, lays her back along the bottom curve into the ‘man in the moon’ pose, and I can’t wait to repose along this curvaceous hoop! I promptly decide then and there to boycott the straight bar trapeze. My turn to get up to the moon, into this circle... I lay the back of my body along the curve and… I’m huge, heavy and hurting! I’m forced into foetal! Concertinaed into this miniature clown curve, I’m back to Vulnerable! I can’t t in! I instantly hate this apparatus for not accommodating me! Helen tells me there are bigger hoops for bigger bods. PHEW!74Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 74 26/10/2020 1:25:38 PM

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75I’m basking in the morning-after glow of my rst time performing in Aerialise’s end of term Student Show. I’m soaring! My past mental and physical blues are now Rainbow Ribbons of Light and Length! My phone rings and it’s my sister. She’s saying: “Dad’s dying! William, our dad, my soulmate, dies that night! I LOSE MY WILL TO GET UP….FAR LESS MY WILL TO GET UP IN THE AIR!!!Week after week, month after month, and it’s now year after year, I just can’t swing, swirl or even hang upside down! I do get up… to attend every end of term Aerialize show… in the audience! Term 3 Show, and I buy thirty rafe tickets in the hope that if I win Helen’s free lesson, it just might catapult me into the air. Don’t dob on me, but I’m in the back row secretly swigging red wines to anaesthetise my size, I mean my sighs. I do win a Swing Dancing (?) course! “Yippee” I think! My favourite music, and I’m moving…actually, I’m dragging my feet across the oor. The syncopating swing doesn’t even help my long body. It’s too pacey, too parallel, too partnered… O I WISH I COULD GET UP IN THE AIR… The Xmas Show rolls along and I’m there with Xmas bells on…mmm… in the audience. My name’s called out… I’ve won a prize… an Aerialize Children’s Birthday Party for up to seven kids. Helen tells me I can bring seven big kids if I want! It takes me nine months to begin my party plan. Spring is in the air! I order a customised aerial lyra hoop 110cm in diameter, 6cm wider than the biggest one at Aerialize. In good faith, I book my party for my birthday – Sunday, November 18th. I can’t feel any edgling impulse yet and it’s now only one week to lyra launch. WILL GRIEF GROUND ME FOREVER? On my round rainbow birthday cake in piped icing, it reads: LuLu Loves Lyrical Lyras! With pump and pomp, Helen strips away the curtain… revealing MY AERIAL HOOP! I climb onto the sponge mat and up into MY CIRCLE! Helen’s right there ‘spotting” me, keeping me safe and sound as I twirl around. Phew! I welcome the space and grace to learn at my longitudinal pace! I’m showing off to my Inner Circle of Seven Big Little Kids – ‘woman in the moon’, ‘mermaid’ and ‘star’ pose. I’m ready! With Helen, I’m so ‘Reddy’! “I am Woman! See Me Soar!” I’M THE LONGITUDINAL SHOWGIRL!I’M THE QUEEN OF MY CASTLE!75Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 75 26/10/2020 1:25:38 PM

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76The Rooster ManJennifer TrezisePoetrytTrigger Warning: This written work contains child abuse themesthe dark surrounds the well-worn track through bracken, thicket, razorback, the thorn cuts through and tears the skin of child tormented from within. ne’er feels the wounds just surface deep, more important just to keep on moving through that pathway bare to safety from the rooster’s lair. to eiderdown and crisp white sheets now oozing blood, heart’s racing beat, the dark enfolds, her eyelids blink, and muddy feet on feathers sink. sneak out again as daylight breaks, back to the house where mother waits. only to repeat once more, when father can’t get through the door. a piece of string with door key ‘round her neck was worn. her slippers never saved her from the rooster’s scorn. the old, gnarled jacaranda provides memories innate its branches cascade over the worn palings of the gate. above, the childhood treehouse its oor with grey boards worn solace from the danger of the rooster’s scorn. the little gate an entry to the refuge, now rejects with rusty lock and hinges stiff with decades of neglect. the weeds and vines entrap her a barrier inane why can’t she just get through there to be safe and held again in the arms of her loved neighbours her protectors in the lane who kept their back door open through the dark nights and the rain. Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 76 26/10/2020 1:25:38 PM

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77in the darkness of the night, the cockerel lost his nal round left wondering, as we always will, what slayed the bird, his feathers strewn with blood, a fall from grace, a blow, a kill. did his body make a thud? was death preceded by a ght? what was the nal awful sound? dead as only dead can be, the body swollen, tongue engorged and dry, yet six more days in lifeless purgatory, can one presume to ask the question, why? what preceded his demise? what did he do or say, to snap the nal straw? what tipped it over, more threats and lies, the rooster spread recumbent on the oor. left to lie ‘til sunrise, brought reality to roost, the chickens in a panic, sanity reduced, the single act, calamity, on the chook yard oor. then, with the body carried off, life was calm once more.77Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 77 26/10/2020 1:25:38 PM

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78Spring Smiles photograph 20cm x 28cmGraham LonardPhotographyI have been putting color in my beard for many years now And found that putting colour in my beard put smiles on peoples’ faces and helps put a smile on my face as well I am an advocate for mental health awareness & understanding and have an extensive lived experience which I share with all.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 78 26/10/2020 1:25:39 PM

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79The hidden colour of nature photography 15cm x 10cmAalia RayosoYouth PhotographyI am inspired by the world of nature and love to take photographs of the details that most people miss in the natural world. I wanted to convey the surprise of discovering the complimentary colours found in the orange bug on the purple and green lavender plant. I used a closeup shot and focus to direct the audience’s eye and create textures.79Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 79 26/10/2020 1:25:39 PM

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80The phone rings. Argh, not now! It’s a local number – I should answer it, it might be mum.‘Hello,’ I say, slightly put-out.‘Hello. Is that Aaron Dunstan’s wife?’ A female voice, vaguely accented – European perhaps - with a silky and even tone, each word gently and breathily enunciated.Can I ask who’s calling?’ suspicion rising.‘Are you Aaron Dunstan’s wife?’ that question again, reiterated patiently.‘Can I ask who is calling please?’ my words are rmer now, authoritarian like the school teacher voice I use with rude kids.‘Priscilla Wiśniewski. I have a letter for Aaron Dunston. I’m at 12 Smith Road.’I suddenly see the connection. We’re at 21 Smith Road and she has a misaddressed letter for Aaron Dunstan who is, indeed, my husband.‘Ah, I see,’ I respond, friendlier now.‘Can you come and get it?’ asks Priscilla.‘Could you maybe leave it in your letter box and I can pick it up soon?’ I suggest.‘I can’t get to the letterbox.’‘Oh, ok. We’re about to go out – I could pick it up if you like?’ In my mind, I see a wheelchair bound woman unable to even get to her letterbox. But then there’s the paranoid part of myself alert to a scam, or some sort of danger. Would I be accosted, or was this silken-voiced female somehow associated with my husband? Will she inform me of their long-standing affair? The convenience and coincidence of a lover just up the road feeds my paranoia nicely. Fatigue and anxiety have been playing havoc with my nerves and warping my perspective. Get a grip, woman!The driveway is steep, and as I negotiate the slippery mauve blanket of fallen owers it occurs to me that I have never really noticed the modest brown brick house at the bottom. It is visible from the street but its lowered position beyond tall gum and Jacaranda trees renders it almost invisible like a small child lost behind her taller siblings in a family photo.I knock and the voice from the phone now beckons me from inside the house, front door already ajar. I enter a room lit only by yellow morning light pouring in through rectangular windows. I note Priscilla’s thinness, her long, bony limbs, the scrunched-up leg warmers bunched at her ankles, incongruous on the spindly legs of an octogenarian in the height of summer.‘Hello. I’m Carol.’‘Carol Dunstan?’ she asks, the intonation on the surname.‘Yes,’ I say with a small laugh.Priscilla holds out the letter for me to take. ‘Thank you,’ I say, noting my husband’s name on the white envelope.The Phone CallClair DuncanShort Story80Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 80 26/10/2020 1:25:39 PM

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81‘Thanks for calling about this Pricilla.’ There’s nothing more to be said in this strange exchange, I think to myself as I turn to go. But there is. ‘Can I get you anything before I go?’‘No, thank you. My daughter will be here shortly.’‘What was she like?’ asks my daughter who has been waiting in the car. ‘Very nice and very old – just like grandma up north, but skinnier and less talkative!’ I think about the fascination with which my daughter looks at her paternal grandmother. Her wrinkled face and her hunched body causes her to stare, not unkindly, and I can see her trying to reconcile the decrepitude of another’s old age with her own visceral experience of living in a young and vital body. Grandma Edna is ensconced in ‘assisted living’ accommodation in the hot wok of the northern NSW town of Lismore, where the cloying humidity supplants all other experience.As we make our way to the shops for the weekly grocery shop, I am preoccupied with my own shortcomings as a daughter and daughter-in-law, with how I have often failed the older people in my life through my own self-involvement. By the time we leave the shops, I have resolved to leave a note for Priscilla with my number on it and an offer of help, or company, whenever she might need it and whenever I can manage it.Priscilla is, indeed, receptive to my offer and what tentatively begins as a neighbourly exchange of small talk blossoms into a mutually enjoyed meeting of minds. I can tell that she appreciates the time we spend together, particularly since her daughter, Jayne, visits less frequently. Priscilla is reluctant to discuss this turn of events, so I imagine there has perhaps been a falling out of sorts. Aaron has been less than supportive in my desire to spend time with Priscilla and tells me that I should be minding my own business when I return from one of my little visits and canvas any number of reasons behind Jayne’s increasing absence. I despair to think that a mother-daughter relationship may be souring. My relationship with my own mother has gained strength, and Aaron has an uncomplicated connection with Edna. His upcoming trip to Lismore to visit her sees him in good spirits which is unusual because he tends to dread any return to his hometown. He laments that it’s nothing like it used to be during the golden days of his childhood.Three days after Aaron has left, as the last of the day’s heat nally drains from the house like a receding tideline, the phone rings. Argh, not now! It’s not a local number – I should answer it, it might be Aaron.‘Hello,’ I say, slightly put-out.‘Is that Carol, Aaron’s wife?’ A female voice, vaguely accented – European perhaps - with a silky and even tone, each word gently and breathily enunciated.‘Can I ask who’s calling?’ suspicion rising.‘Is this Carol?’ asked pleadingly.‘Can I ask who is calling please?’ my words are rmer now, authoritarian like the school teacher voice I use with rude kids.‘Jayne Wiśniewski, Priscilla’s daughter. I’m here with Aaron and he needs to talk to you.’ I hear mufed voices before Aaron’s breath is suddenly in my ear. ‘Aaron? What’s this about?’ ‘Carol, I’m so sorry, but we need to talk.’ 81Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 81 26/10/2020 1:25:39 PM

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82Supportive photograph 80cm x 60cmMisha MaddockPhotographyCat’s... being supportiveBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 82 26/10/2020 1:25:40 PM

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83A Heart of Gold ceramics and metal 20cm x 18cm x 20cmLivonne LarkinsSculptureKintsugi is the ancient Japanese art of mending broken pottery with gold. The idea is that in not just embracing aws and imperfections but highlighting them, items which have mended are more valued. I believe this idea is true of the human heart too. But once mended, it needs to be free to live and love and break again, or there was no point in putting it back together in the rst place.83Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 83 26/10/2020 1:25:41 PM

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84Bad ThingDiana HarleyShort StorySShe picks up a photo album from the pile and opens a page at random.She pulls out one of the photos.She sees a time past, happy smiling faces, youth, vitality, hand-holding and love.So much to look forward to. So much to hope for. So much to live for.She feels the joy of that time.And then, like so many times before, she feels herself tumbling.Falling into the hole. The big, black hole of despair and sadness.Facing, once again, the division of time that has been held in her head for years.The “before” time.And the “after” time.She looks again at the photo in her hand and automatically allocates it to the “before” time.The time before the bad thing happened.The time before her world fell apart.The time before she wanted to kill herselfThe time before, when the future held such promise and such hope.The time she didn’t really realise how lucky she was.She’s not going to tell you what the “bad thing” is. Sufce to say that this bad thing turned her life upside down, pushed her into the abyss of depression and self-loathing, goaded her with guilt and sadness, deprived her of precious time with her family and her world.At the very worst of it all, she remembers driving her car into town, with her 2 year old strapped into his child seat in the back. Fat, salty tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.The road was straight and long. Decades-old eucalypts lined both sides.Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her veins bulged.84Trigger Warning: This written work contains reference to suicidal thoughts.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 84 26/10/2020 1:25:41 PM

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85She was a wound-up spring ready to explode.In a bubble of silence, with the prattle of her son and the noises of driving no longer audible to her in her despair, she thought about how easy it would be.All she had to do was steer straight into one of those enormous gum trees, planted years ago to commemorate the return of the brave soldiers of the surrounding district.How ironic that the memorial to those who died so that she could live could now be used in such a futile way.She could just plough head-on into the girth of one of those trees, and the sadness would stop. She wouldn’t have to deal with “me” anymore. She could be free.Steely-eyed, she felt her conviction deep inside.And then, her son spoke. He called her name - over and over and over again. “Mummy, mummy, mummmmm!”Her son’s insistent calls broke the spell. What right had she to deprive her beautiful son of his life? And of his mother’s love?She came back from the brink.Once they had cleared the eucalypt memorial drive, she pulled the car over to the side of the road, turned the engine off, and sobbed.She gently places the photo back in the album. Caresses the plastic sheeting over its face and slowly closes the book.She thinks about how many other people have a “bad thing” in their lives - and how they deal with it, day in, day out.She thinks about how some people’s “bad things” are so much worse than hers. And how so many innocent people suffer through no fault of their own and still, they keep going.And yet classifying a “bad thing” as a rst-world problem or as self-inicted doesnt help. Everyone feels their own.She’s still dealing with her “bad thing”, and some days are worse than others.But she’s been lucky.A little boy’s voice opened her eyes.And she’s still here.85Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 85 26/10/2020 1:25:41 PM

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86In Bloom watercolour 72cm x 52cmMichelle BrownArtThe artwork ‘In bloom’ is an abstract work depicting native ora blooming after re. It represents re-birth, renewal and the hope of spring and represents coming through a great struggle and ‘blooming’.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 86 26/10/2020 1:25:42 PM

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87Please Don’t Give Up! digital art printed on photo paper 33cm x 40cmLachlan BerthonArtThis drawing captures the sense of there being someone there to reach out to catch you even when you’re tired. Or could it mean more than that?87Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 87 26/10/2020 1:25:43 PM

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88ITo Be or not to BeMarita SchlinkShort StoryIn 2016 I was given the reason why I had lived with suicidal depression all my life.My intuitive friend recommended an Integrative Medical practitioner.I sought every avenue of relief. I explored past life regression, twelve step programs, rebirthing, Gestalt therapy, PTSD seminars, sexual abuse survivor groups. I self-medicated with a plethora of drugs. Dope to cocaine, barbiturates plus a kaleidoscope of hallucinogenics and alcohol. Comfortably numb was my modus operandum. I explored my intergalactic family. I communed with my inner drag queen, my numerous sub-personalities while also swimming with dolphins, whales and seals. I explored every avenue to attempt some kind of reprieve from my torturous never-ending depressive episodes. They were not really episodes. They were a full time, lifelong feature length movie. I sat in front of this MD. My intuition prompted me to tell the truth.In the past feelings of shame prevented me from full disclosure. I felt broken, an imposter. I had never known what it was to feel okay. The MD looked directly into my eyes,“How can I help you?”I broke down and sobbed. I vomited a litany about my mental “unwellness” with machine gun precision. I told him the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The truth of my several failed suicide attempts to my awareness at the age of seven that I could not get out of bed. I was labelled lazy, lackadaisical and a life avoider. I became aware of the label “depression” at the age of 33. I ticked every box in the on-line survey “Do you think you are depressed?” I came out.“I have depression”All my close family and friends said“We know”.They told me that I would disappear for weeks, sometimes, months on end, with a foot note saying“Don’t worry about me I will be ok. Just leave me alone.” I recall a deep need for reclusiveness. A sense of stillness.I needed to navigate the uncharted territory of deep catatonic depression. The outside world demanded too much. I craved to be sedated for a period of three months. I learnt that we acquire a new blood stream in this time frame, so my intuitive inclination was to lay low and just breath until I could surface yet again.At my worse, I would stand in front of my bathroom mirror, in the early hours of the morning rocking back and forth with my hands over my head. A waterfall of silent tears accompanied an internal mantra ‘my brain is broken, help me, help me, help me’.At this nadir I would be close to admitting myself into a psyche ward. When the MD heard my story, he quietly said that he had a good idea of what was going on.It involved specic pathology tests. A two week wait. After a life time a few weeks is nothing.The next consultation delivered the news. I had a metabolic imbalance called 88Trigger Warning: This written work contains reference to drug use and suicidal thoughts.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 88 26/10/2020 1:25:43 PM

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89Pyroluria. It is a malfunction of the haemoglobin which manufactured pyrroles. The pyrroles would devour my zinc, vitamin B6 and omega 6’s which are the precursors to make dopamine and serotonin. The MD basically said that I had NEVER had the ability to make these essential neurotransmitters. I had suffered at the hands of my own faulty biochemistry. He compassionately said two statements that initiated my full recovery.“You will get better” and “It was not my fault”.IT WAS NOT MY FAULT.....I had been a Naturopath for 22 years. I had researched every known cause for depression. I had participated in every eating and exercise regime. Looked at supplements and anti-depressants. I lead a monastic meditative drug free lifestyle.Nothing sustained me for any length of time.Psychiatrists, Counsellors, Psychologists, Reiki, Acupuncture, Floatation tanks and massage. The ‘wounded healer’.I felt like a failure, a broken human. I lived in the shadowland of shame and guilt. I labelled myself a failed bipolar alcoholic cause I did not tick all the boxes yet had the tendencies.The MD mentioned if I had gone on ward that I would have probably been misdiagnosed, given meds that could have tipped me over the edge. So, someone somewhere was looking after me.My wholistic approach and knowledge to health propelled me to seek out the causative factors of the dis/ease to then apply the appropriate treatment. I walked out of that consult and called my son. I told him the news. We both cried with relief and joy. He was happy to hear that at last my suffering will be over.I was prescribed the nutrients that my body needed. I have taken them daily since and have not had any bouts of depression.My whole life changed.I have experienced excessive grief with ongoing changes and challenges that day to day life offers yet have not suffered any bouts of depression.I view any mental unwellness as a bio-chemical/emotional/spiritual imbalance that needs to be individually treated.I do not use the term mental illness because I feel we are all a little mentally ill at ease. I now check in with myself. Setting boundaries. Allowing myself time out. Learning to say “NO”. Meditating and surrounding myself with a tsunami of unconditional love. Putting my hand up when I need support. My family, friends and my spiritual creative life are my ongoing ballast. My passion for life, love, adventure and creativity are my true North.I am happy and I believe. If I was able to seek and nd answers and reprieve.... All is Possible.Deep gratitude for all my “beautiful monsters”.The journey has just begun.Destination Unknown.Eternally Grateful.89Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 89 26/10/2020 1:25:43 PM

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90Wymsical Colour acrylic on enamel sprayed canvas 76cm x 76cmDavid SantlebenArtThis work is one (the most recent) in a series in my journey to nd purpose, whilst living with majot depression. If it sells, all funds go to Beyond BlueBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 90 26/10/2020 1:25:44 PM

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91Working From Home watercolour on paper 30cm x 30cmGrace CoanArtI didn’t get time off during lockdown, but if I had worked from home, I would want it to look like this.91Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 91 26/10/2020 1:25:45 PM

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92‘‘IThe Rooster ManJennifer TreziseShort Story‘I rarely slept in my own bed. At night, if my father was out, I sat with my mother in the lounge room with the door key in my lap, or around my neck. When we heard my father’s car approach, after closing time at the pub or club, we judged whether it was safe for me to stay, or better for me to go. Often the decision was made if we heard a crashing of gears or the angry revving of the engine in his car, or even if he successfully negotiated the brick gate posts without hitting them. Sometimes my father would fall up the steps or against the front door, cursing and swearing at neighbours, my mother, or some imaginary foe, and to the day he died, I was amazed that the large glass panel in the door, etched with a sailing ship, failed to smash. There are many references to the ‘rooster’ or ‘rooster man’ in my poetry. The rooster was real, but is also a metaphor for my father. I believe that my mother would tell my father that I was asleep once he was inside, while the whole time I was running across the back yard, through the back fence to the Cameron’s house, or two houses down the street to the Jones’ house, to safety. I would often wet myself with fear while running in the dark. The rooster chased me as I ran through the chook yard to the back gate, and I was terried!’‘Like many backyards, in those days, there was a small wooden gate into the back neighbours’ yard. Beyond it and above it, there was a huge old Jacaranda tree, in which there was a tree house, just a platform of wood, made by old Mr Cameron, or Cam, as I knew him, for his grandchildren. The back fence was covered in vines and often the little gate was hard to locate in the dark. The Camerons always left their back door open for me and the bed made up in their back room. My other refuge was the Jones’ house, two doors down our street, but I had to climb into their side window over the sharp brick window sill to get to safety there.‘‘One sunny day when I was collecting the eggs from the chook yard, the rooster ran at me, and as I kicked out with my shoes, one came off. The rooster sensed my fear and attacked my legs with his beak and spurs. My father,who was in the backyard, roared up to him and strangled him, hanging him on the fence between two palings. I can still see him hanging there with his tongue sticking out. It was a violent, traumatic event and his death an image that I will never forget and for which I felt so guilty at the time. My father reminded me too, for many years more, that if it had not been for me, that the rooster would still be alive.’ 92Trigger Warning: This written work contains child abuse themes.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 92 26/10/2020 1:25:45 PM

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93‘‘When he was sixty-two,my father suffered an accident in the kitchen of his house, to the back of his head, which caused a subdural haematoma to the brain, after which he was maintained on life support for six days in hospital, before he was taken off the machine and died. His death was thought to be accidental, but mysterious and unexpected, so it was followed by a coronial inquest, which had an inconclusive nding.’93Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 93 26/10/2020 1:25:45 PM

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94A Guiding Light painting 30cm x 40cmEmilia GoslingYouth ArtMy artwork is a piece to allow you to escape reality. The calming scene of the artwork makes you forget about all the struggles of the world and bring serenity to the mind.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 94 26/10/2020 1:25:46 PM

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95Blue Gold Vest satin 35cm x 65cmMonique DonaldsonTextilesThis satin blue vest incorporates various stitch and embroidery styles to illistrate various types of sewing. It is a size 12 ladies and is an after 5 item95Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 95 26/10/2020 1:25:47 PM

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96This is a portrait study in lead pencil on art paper. It is of my best friend Kayla. I have used different gradients of pencil to achieve affects like light shade and outlines. I have free drawn this portrait.Kaylapencil on paper 40cm x 50cmOlivia Cassidy WyldeYouth ArtBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 96 26/10/2020 1:25:48 PM

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97The childhood nostalgia of nature photograph 100cm x 35cmAndrew NorrisPhotographyThis is the forest I called my playground for many years of my childhood and life. After school we trek to this place, creating a sense of place and freedom beyond screentime. The tall gums skinned in pastel colours overlooked our campsite by the re at night. The kookaburra swooping to snatch a snag straight from the frypan for breakfast...The campsite has now overgrow as if no one ever was there, despite the sounds of suburbia creeping in from the ridgetops.97Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 97 26/10/2020 1:25:48 PM

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98SBY HEART AND BY HANDGeoffrey Thomas (Breeze) PoetrySome timesmost timesany time at all men might ghtfor a good causebut in light of the night by moon and starry sky some lieto bring honour to their plightI by my side no friend at allstand tall and alonewith truth my swordhonour for shieldand right my strengthFear no man to death we might duelAs something inside tells me I still have love, hope and faithWhat children give at birth and rst sightand the woman who shares them with methese things I ght for, not land, not seaas one day I go back therethis wonderful red eath with its green sea til then I’ll strive to be every man and woman’s friendBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 98 26/10/2020 1:25:48 PM

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99July 2020 pencil and paint on paper 29cm x 31cmEvie JohnstoneYouth ArtThis piece, created in July 2020, reects on the year of 2020 so far. From Covid-19 to the BLM protests in the USA, it all comes together to create a harmonious piece that commemorates the rst half of 2020.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 99 26/10/2020 1:25:50 PM

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100The Loose Cannon 50cm x 25cm x 20cmAdam MiethSculptureEveryone is a loose cannonBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 100 26/10/2020 1:25:50 PM

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101You Are Enough - afrmations for when all hope is lost card and fabric 8cm x 10cmAlexandra HolmesTextilesThis is my rst fully casebound hardback book. It goes hand in hand with my Artwork of the same name. This is a little book of sunshine. Words of comfort, of personal inspiration, words that can nurture, words that can elevate and bring hope. So even when all hope is lost, you ARE enough.101Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 101 26/10/2020 1:25:51 PM

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102Self Expression oil on canvas 31cm x 41cmEmiko SeitaYouth ArtI viewed this artwork as a kind of self portrait - while it doesn’t look much like me I found that I ended up depicting at least to myself a lot of experiences I have encounted this year; feelings of loneliness, change and gradual acceptance. Personally this work gave me a physical representation of how I’ve learnt to feel and process many things this past year.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 102 26/10/2020 1:25:52 PM

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103Burn picture is dry felted and the vessel is wet felted 52cm x 32cmKaren StevensonTextilesThis textile piece was created after the res of 2019/20. Holding it together for my little family as the res approached, my Mum and the responsibility of my elderly neighbour and her three dogs. My neighbour died two days after the res were out. I admit now, I never felt safe, my felted vessel is most denitely empty, my heart died for all and everything that died.103Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 103 26/10/2020 1:25:53 PM

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104TonightRachel CorriganPoetry104Trigger Warning: This written work contains reference to violence.TTonight, It will happen tonight.There could be no more perfect a night than tonight. The wind sings and trees dance as the rain taps a beat.All those of a respectable life have retired to their homes and families.Kissed their partner goodnight and assured their children that the boogeyman comes not for them.No dear children tis not your blood he lusts for this evening, but mine.Patiently, I have waited for him. The full moon has come and left and returned once more as I sit anticipating his arrival.Estates have been settled, debts paid, and the parade of black clad mourners, with me at the helm, have thrice carried my family home.An answer has been reached, my voice a mere squeak among the roar of police, lawyers, paparazzi and guardians. Those great big lions who tower over me and listen not to my cries.They wrap my life in a blood soaked bow and call it a day. Job well done, Cheers all round, Let’s go home. Don’t look back. Never look back.Yet still he comes for me. Never satised until I lay with my kin.With every breath I take, the demon in my shadow moves closer. Beckoned ever forward by the beat of my very heart. He stalks me waiting for the right moment.Waiting for tonight.He will come through my window and take a knife to my throat. But I shall not die. Along with the blood stains and scattered memories I inherited everything.All of it meaningless in the face of an empty tomorrow. But he lives for it. Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 104 26/10/2020 1:25:53 PM

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105The sound of coin like music to his blackened soul. It’s bright golden shine, the closest thing to light he shall ever look upon. I will buy his hand and use it to learn his craft. I will take his skills and by my blade, Bleed out all who stole from me, And lay my family to rest.105Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 105 26/10/2020 1:25:53 PM

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106Massimo was a little man who gave me hope during a particularly difcult time in my life. Having a creature so small and loving in need of care and love gave me hope for better things in the future. Feeling his fuzzy fur and holding him close brought feelings of love and warmth and helped me remember how the smallest of things in our lives can have such an enormous impact.Hope digitally enhanced photograph 35cm x 35cmLaura BarrPhotographyBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 106 26/10/2020 1:25:54 PM

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107Schiamachy (n.) a battle against imaginary enemies; ghting your shadowAbbie PayneYouth PoetrySStart dead with a smile.Rise to a teen with a mind that comes and goes.“Proof says life would drag me here”,His voice falling,Unmanned by the anger in his eyes.Spent ve years in the light,Yet the wounded felt unease.He had laughed about a veteran of endless dark.“No more terrors for him,Darkness rides farther each day.”Today, numbing cold loves to ride the ancient youth,Their excitement, empathy and desire,Buried under the snow.Reected in iceWere the blue faces of ancient youth.Their faces buried deep enough to interrupt the details.As we grow old, we see snow.Children see the snow burning.Fire?No, guns do not solve this.Adulthood will cure them of their minds,Only to be replaced with the insecurity of a bombAnd guns for hands.A knife mounted the mind of the noble knightSworn by sin.He killedAnd the mighty shared a laugh.Fighting the cold on two fronts,They have no time to live.They ght it.Don’t feel it.Sinking into peaceful numbness.107Yet despite a chill, some muttered“Young knight, man-at-arms, what men freeze?And how is it your re burns?”Weeping, frowning,They reply“We’ve surely killed them by our own hands,Innocent were they to believe that no men freezeBy the cold steel of their trusted society.For the wood we burn is frozen bodiesAnd the angry re, red with blood.”And then order and honour,Careless and unwary,The men-at-arms’ sorrow deepenedFeeling the darkness despite their re blazing.Saddened faces discoloured by re.The night’s sounds unman them in fear.“Fire fool!”The enemy’s a re.No!Society is the enemy.We are society.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 107 26/10/2020 1:25:54 PM

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108Mother’s Embracemixed textiles 88cm x 72cmJessica StevensonYouth TextilesI was inspired to create this wall hanging after the bushres of 2019-2020Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 108 26/10/2020 1:25:55 PM

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109Endeavour Gardens photograph taken by camera 21cm x 31cmJanet HollisterPhotographyThese photographs were taken by me at our environment before landscaping had opened up the area to become a nature reserve.109Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 109 26/10/2020 1:25:56 PM

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110The StatueRachel CorriganShort StoryTThere is a statue in the town square. It was erected many years ago to honor the hero of my town. It depicts a woman, tall, strong, with her hands on her hips and her head held high. Her smile is wide but her eyes always look so empty to me.The town has two days a year dedicated to her. The rst is a grand festival, held on her birthday.Music plays through every street, food and drink is shared with friends and strangers alike, children paint their faces and dance in the town square, and those that were there to witness it tell tales of her might and bravery On that day, I curl up in my bed, pillow over my head and try to ignore the sounds of music and laughter.I hate that day.The second day is one of remembrance, on the day she died. It is a somber day where people gather in the square and light candles in memory of the woman who gave her life to save their town. The people who knew her weep as they speak of the golden eyed girl with a heart of iron and a laughter like church bells.On that day I stand in my best black suit, by my mother’s side, hands clenched and head lowered and try to look sad like everyone else.I hate that day.It’s the stories I hate the most. I hear so many stories about the woman in the town square. Stories of her bravery, of her kindness, of her quick wit and sharp sense of humor. It feels like every person who ever met her has a story about her. Nobody ever wants to talk about the real story though. The story of the loud mouthed, over the top, reckless women, who selessly sacriced herself to save her town and selshly left her wife to raise their son alone in a broken home of loss and hurt and stories.Stories of a brave hero, a loyal friend, a loving wife and an absent mother.I think I hate her sometimes. When my Mother cries and locks herself away. I want to yell, to scream at her “how could you abandon us? You left us behind and now we are broken!”I think I love her sometimes. When my Mother holds me close and hums the songs she used to sing. I want to hold her hand, to see her smile and to tell her “thank you, for bringing me into this world, for saving me and Mother” Most of the time I don’t know how I feel.I’ve heard every story, seen every picture, watched complete strangers laugh and cry over her, but I don’t really know her, I never did.There is a statue in the town square.It was erected many years ago to honor the hero of my town. 110Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 110 26/10/2020 1:25:56 PM

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111It depicts a woman, tall, strong, with her hands on her hips and her head held high. Her smile is wide but her eyes always look so empty to me.To the people of our town she is a brave hero, to others a loyal friend, to my mother she is the love of her life but to me she is a stranger. A character in a story I’ll never get to meet, and that’s all she’ll ever be.111Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 111 26/10/2020 1:25:56 PM

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112Australia’s Alaska photograph 30cm x 21cmMichael LoughmanPhotographyStill a place to nd a Christmas Tree112Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 112 26/10/2020 1:25:57 PM

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1132020 behind the mask (Spirit IV) digitally enhanced photograph 40cm x 40cmAlexandra HolmesPhotographyI could have picked any one of a huge number of absolutely gorgeous shots I’ve taken in the last nine months or so, but I realised that what people really need these days is humour. They need to forget about the stresses of living under lockdown, and just laugh. Especially if it’s with something totally relateable, like the roller-coaster of emotions that one can experience in an average day. I had been planning this collection of self portraits for a while, and nally nished it while suffering some HORRIBLE medication withdrawals. These photos are a real and honest depiction of recovery.113Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 113 26/10/2020 1:25:58 PM

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114Ten acrylic paint pens on canvas 35cm x 35cmJessica StevensonYouth ArtThis artwork is of a friend of mine that lives in the USA, it’s my impression of him ‘Tennyson’. He is a cool, hippy type of person that loves to wear bandanas and writes his own poetry, so I thought I would create this painting of him through my eyes. Cool and colourful.114Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 114 26/10/2020 1:25:58 PM

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115Unlikely friends photograph 27cm x 20cmNicolas CooperPhotographyTwo pieces of ice briey bound together that I happened to capture. Despite all the chaos in the world, beauty can be found if you take the time to look.115Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 115 26/10/2020 1:25:59 PM

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116Recovery photograph 100cm x 80cmDelilahPhotographyThis is my interpretation of recovery within the realm of mental health. you take small step to make it through a long tunnel and eventually you will make it out the other side. 116Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 116 26/10/2020 1:25:59 PM

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117We all wear it differently mixed media 91cm x 34cmKit Wing FuSculptureEach hat focuses on one mental health area: Trauma, Depression, Anxiety. My creations aim to encourage open conversation, destigmatise, and raise awareness by depicting possible symptoms to illustrate what it may be like to suffer from these conditions. They also exemplify how easy it is for mental illnesses to go unnoticed by an outsider at a shallow glance. However, hope is not lost; as such, elements of hope are also embedded in the sculptures.117Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 117 26/10/2020 1:26:00 PM

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118After the Last Embers mixed textiles 42cm x 50cmJanet HollisterTextilesThis textile piece was inspired by imagining what it would be like in a heavy restorm. Stitched cotton suggests the movement of seed pods and twigs blown in by the catastrophic winds.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 118 26/10/2020 1:26:01 PM

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119Self Love digitally enhanced photo 40cm x 51cmSuba BalePhotographySelf-Love is a constant choice. It is not a magical feeling that appears to you one day. It is a commitment to your boundaries, your wellbeing, your mental and emotional health and your body. Look for that magic in every moment.119Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 119 26/10/2020 1:26:01 PM

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120Guardian Angel photograph 100cm x 50cmPeter ByrnesPhotographyBundy my dog keeps me safe and focused, she provides me with emotional support and helps me with my anxiety. She’s there to wake me up and provide comfort to me when my dreams are bad or the night is rough. She motivates me to get through the day.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 120 26/10/2020 1:26:01 PM

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121At Least 4 Great NGO’s and many more yet to come acrylic on canvas 45cm x 56cmDavid BryantArtGreat passions with lived experience peer support workers121Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 121 26/10/2020 1:26:02 PM

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122A Day in the LifeMarita SchlinkPoetry122II wake with razor blade eyes My insides escaped Crackling sparklers on a bonre night Hissing and spitting offering no reprieve A darkened room A welcomed sanctuary Protection from the looming tasks RISE WASH EAT SIT DRINK WAIT I pray out loud the phone does not ring I plead for no knocks on the door Oblivion is an easier option to tick in the box of life Himalayan trek Remember what the therapist said “Break it down into simple tasks” Rest when tired Eat when hungry I look at my bumper sticker life Magnetic messages on the fridge “REMEMBER TO BREATH” That’s my fave The irony forces a grin cause all I want to do is die A cup of lukewarm tea and a slice of stale raisin bread I give myself permission to breath The outside world too severe today I crawl my way back into the safety of the steel wool sheets to live to face another day Tomorrow...... October 5,2020 A memory of my days in the throes of unrelenting depressionBlue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 122 26/10/2020 1:26:03 PM

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123Primulas photo on canvas 38cm x 25cmNicki BasedowPhotographyThe pretty primulas in my garden.. nature is so photographable. This is a photo on canvas ready to be hung on the wall.123Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 123 26/10/2020 1:26:03 PM

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124Not Another Bloody Landscape! acrylic ink on canvas 76cm x 30cmTherese CorbettArtI’ve been aiming to abstract my landscapes, and not succeeding very well. I thought I’d go for a complete colour play abstract, and out comes another bloody landscape (ha ha). Semi abstract landscape succeeds nally. For my niece, Alexandra, on her 40th birthday.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 124 26/10/2020 1:26:04 PM

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125‘WStop hiding the faultsGlen FisherPoetryWhy don’t they listen? Can they not hear? Cries out for Help The Anger, The Fear,Do not they see me Alone & Afraid?Fighting for justice Until all debt is paid They March before Beaks Contrite, full of remorse, Their counsel paints them as Angels They are Demons of courseThe Tangible vs the unseenPieces slowly reveal Broken nurse Broken Some parts we healIrreparable damage Validation a tool to set free I hear you! I believe you! That’s how it should beHearts in right positions Yet still, nothing is heardThey can’t actually hear what we are say Not one bloody word I feel like I’m screaming Help, I feel isolated & alone I can’t sleep without ashbacks & my best friends a phone Manipulating us to Redress Which seems unjust & unfair We need someone with ght We need someone to care54 years on this planet Not found this person yet As for the ashbacks I can never forget Court rooms, Police stations The disappointing results In a system that’s broken Stop hiding the faults We learn present from past From the home & the street We listen then Amend So history, Doesn’t repeat. 125Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 125 26/10/2020 1:26:04 PM

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126Pretty in Pink photograph 21cm x 30cmKaren StevensonPhotographyThe photo is of a King Protea, stunning in its own right. After having a bit of a play with the colour, it has become even more stunning. The picture was taken during a hectic time in January 2020, res surrounding the mountains, on a semi smoke free day on a daily walk with my two Labradors. I had passed it many times and not really noticed it, probably due to the thick toxic smoke. The photo was meant to be taken! Sadly the King Protea is no more, I have the proof it existed.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 126 26/10/2020 1:26:05 PM

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127Creating hope where once there was none mixed media 16cm x 12cm x 4.5cmAlexandra HolmesSculptureThis work is my rst proper scale model. It is 1:24 scale. It is a lot smaller than my “magic cabinet” from last year, in many ways, but the detail is sometimes incomprehensible, even to myself. From the art supplies on the shelves, to the drawing pad and pot of pencils on the desk, to the rubbish bin in the corner - every painstaking detail is there. It’s actually a way to channel my perfectionism. It also gives me focus, gives me something to create, something to share. Hope.127Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 127 26/10/2020 1:26:06 PM

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10Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 10 26/10/2020 1:24:59 PM

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128With thanks and gratitude to the wonderful workers, volunteers, supporters, sponsors, judges, artists and writers of Blue Fringe 2020.Blue Fringe 2020 128 pg booksingle pages.indd 128 26/10/2020 1:26:06 PM

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128Blue Fringe booklet 2020 website version.indd 128 22/10/2020 12:57:25 PMIn Celebration of Mental Wellbeing & Resilience