Karin Mainwaring and Michael Ramsden: artists-in-residence May 2014

Michael and I swept into Gunyah, from the F3 like two pieces of wreckage! Flotsam and Jetsam we may well have been called. Three dozen fresh Karuah Oysters did we arrive with.

Gunyah deck - Karin Mainwaring and Michael Ramsden, May 2014

The restorative power of this house was immediately apparent. Not only was it peaceful, and stunningly sited. Gunyah is so deeply imbued with a collective sense of good-will, and a near utopian sense of trust, that is difficult for one’s darker self to flourish. Hope flourished here for us.

Our arrival coincided with an unseasonably warm spell of high pressure weather. The water and sky duelled over the intensity of their respective blues. The leaves of the trees barely stirred. The smoke from the BBQ snaked straight up into the air. The Gin and Tonics slid down.

Michael on the Gunyah jetty, May 2014

Work? Michael and I arrived as two deeply committed, but equally disillusioned, artists. Michael secured himself a spot on the dock and fished. I made a home for myself, high in the trees, on the sundeck, and knitted. We committed ourself, fully, in our contemplative activities. We made delicate forays into each other’s worlds. 

The creatures Michael hauled from the deep, those that weren’t returned, made delicious forays into us!

The peace and the beauty worked their respective magic. The house too, offered a magic of its own. Michael’s love of painting, my love of words and writing gained found oxygen. Our love for each other also.

Karin's knitting, Gunyah May 2014

It rained on the last night and I was gifted with an image, the end, a piece in the jigsaw of my baby novel.

Underpinning everything was the collective endeavour, vision and generosity of the families who came together to build this place. One of them, now gone, lives on in Gunyah, through the generosity of the people who loved him and made this residency possible.

Many thanks,
Karin Mainwaring

Michael's squid, Gunyah May 2014