The year colouring-in
for adults became
profitable.
Who remembers ‘old school’ Kindergarten - Finger painting and
all things art and craft. Kindergarten is a great year at School,
most days are dedicated to building a personal portfolio of primary paint on paper.
Art is an incredibly important
subject in Kindergarten, but then
you move into year 1 and spelling and mathematics begin to
rule your world. Art is still somewhere in the background though,
with experimentation generally
reserved for rainy days or during
periods where you don’t have
much else to do.
In adulthood there isn’t a great
deal of time where we don’t have
’much else to do’. If someone
was to ask what you like to do in
your spare time, would “I like to
colour-in” come to mind? I doubt
it. Why? Because colouring-in
isn’t “grown up” and it’s certainly
not ‘serious’.
Life after 10 has no call for Crayola.
So why the sudden flood of adult
colouring-in books on your local
supermarket shelf?
Simple. People are seriously
stressed out! Seriously! There
are bills to pay and frankly not
enough income or time in the
day to cover it. This, very popular, excessive lifestyle leads to
one thing – stress! Hence why
producing products, that enable
people to de-stress, is one very
lucrative market at the moment.
How do we keep creativity alive
in a world that moves to devalue it? By encouraging it in
our children. Art has many elements, it’s not all paint and paper. There are performing arts,
manual arts and technical arts …
the list of how to keep your kids
creating is endless. Think of ways
you can bring art into your home
and you will be giving your kids a
lifelong gift - a natural and effective practise of de-stress.
Gymea Bay Public School and De
La Salle College are well on the
way to producing creative young
people.
Illustration by Isabella Tondi
Gymea Bay Public School.
Writing by Sebastian
Grigalius Yr 11 : De La Salle
College.
Perpetual Presence
Sebastian Grigalius
Breerily Waterhole, South Australia
June, 1861
The still summer evening breathed a light breeze across the water
with the perfume of eucalypt almost as thick as the mood in the
air. With a calloused hand he reached down and touched the second man's frail shoulder, croaking “Good luck” through his tangled
beard. A third man insists that they must keep moving with a tone
of desperation haunting his now hoarse voice. The two men turned
and continued along the glassy river, both near death themselves,
leaving their broken friend alone to die. He watched the two figures slowly round the river’s bend, and out of sight. The crashing
of twigs and leaves underfoot was replaced by the sounds of galahs in the tall Ghost gums across the river, and the mosquitos
dancing with water skippers on the river's bank.
He was alone now, and breathed deeply before sighing regrettably.
His torn tunic bore signs of past struggles overcome, but for what,
he thought. Tired as he was, he kept the immense frustration and
despair from boiling over as he brought the feeble brim of his hat
to shade his sunburned face from the setting sun. The man began
to shiver. Was it getting cold already? Or was it the fear of what
unknown beasts may lurk these forsaken lands. He sit with himself, and the pathetic supplies Burke and King were able to leave
behind, and quickly replaced images of ferocious lions lurking
amongst gum trees in his mind, to thoughts of what could have
been different had he stayed with his brothers in the mines of Ballarat and not partaken in such outlandish exploits. “I am a fool”,
he said to no one. As the treeline enveloped a red sun, the day's
last rays shining through the trees, he felt completely, and utterly,
alone. Not a soul in the world knew if he was even still alive, hope
of rescue abandoned weeks long by. As darkness fell, unconsciousness swiftly followed, unmoving for hours, to exhausted to shift
body or mind on his own. His rations lay untouched as he watched
the moon rise through trunks and over the river before he slipped
into bliss.
Jolted awake, he sat upright breathing sharply. He searched the
darkness for the cause. He cursed his eyes as he attempted to spy
the prowling fiend of the desert plotting his demise as its prey. The
light from the setting moon provided little help, as he shrugged
the thought off as foolish, he lay back, to notice the figure of
Robert Burke perched keenly beside him, smiling sadly at him, arriving as if being conjured out of the air.
“Good Lord man, haven't you the thought to announce yourself?”
he cried.
“I apologize, Mr. Wills, it was not my intention to startle you.” said
Mr. Burke.
Wills looked around for a moment as if trying to solve some sort of
mystery of the sorts he couldn’t quite grasp. Mr. Burke continued
to smile sadly, when it dawned on Wills.
“Where is Mr. King?”
“Im not at all sure really” replied Mr. Burke.
“I said what have you done with King?” fired Wills. “Did you leave
him as well?”
“Oh no no of course not. Well perhaps. But I have a firm inclination to believe some of those native fellows have taken him in.
They were most cooperative.” explained Burke
“Aye, the ones you thoughtlessly chased off before.” Mr. Wills said
sourly.
“Those be the ones” confirmed Burke.
A silence fell between the two men. Wills hadn’t forgotten the foolhardy act of Mr. Burke discharging rounds at a group of Aborigines
as they were collecting supplies to help them. None were injured
of course, but they had since yet to return.
“So, Mr. Burk