El Solo Toro

It turns out there is an official Australia Post motorbike, the Honda C110X Postie. Sadly, not for sale to the general public. Its name suggests an engine displacement of 110 cubic centimetres, however according to the official specifications, the displacement is in fact 109 cubic centimetres. What happened to the missing cubic centimetre?

Our local post deliverer parked her C110X Postie outside a neighbour’s house to deliver a parcel. The Postie turned its minatory cyclopean eye on me from the nature strip. It looked like an angry bull, pivoting on its front legs for a charge. 109 cubic centimetres of pent up fury. Probably a good thing this beast is not for sale to the general public.

A haiku in mild steel

When you paint a tin opener you have to look at it. That is when, if you are like me, you realise for the first time how efficient it is. A few parts are riveted together and nothing is wasted, nothing superfluous. The simple twist to the handle combines maximum downward force on the cutting blade with comfort for the user. It has the elegance of a well-turned haiku, but – unlike a haiku – it can open a tin of baked beans.

Painted on a loose canvas sheet, thumbtacked to cardboard. You can see the thumbtacks in the corners. Thumbtacks: now there is a machine it would be hard to improve on.

Elegance, ingenuity, and practicality for a total price of $2.95 (GST included).

If only Rembrandt had access to MDF

I picked up some free MDF offcuts from Bunnings: the left overs that were not good enough to use on someone’s kitchen cupboard door. I felt sorry for one of them (a lump of processed wood?). I decided its fate should be as the support for a painting of a tin hat in the manner of Rembrandt.

MDF is a good surface to paint on. In my opinion if Rembrandt had had access to sufficient supplies of MDF, he could have really realised his potential as a painter.

What might have been … This MDF offcut could have been a kitchen cupboard door.

Incidental beauty: a plastic dish rack in the sunrise

I have written before about the incidental beauty of such things as screwdriver handles, smashed car blinkers, discarded lug nut covers, fire sprinklers, and basketball court floors. This is the dish rack at a friend’s fibro beach shack. It is translucent and captured the morning sun like a tiny stained glass window. I expect it has been doing this since the 1970s and will go on doing so for some time to come.

As I worked on this picture, each stage had its own, distinct appeal, so here is my working out …

Doing it in 1979, and no doubt will be doing it in 2029.