The Pig’s Arms welcomes back Lehan Winifred Ramsay
Bridge Paintings
24 Thursday Mar 2016
Posted in Lehan Winifred Ramsay
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Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle %d
I had lost my ability to have friends, to be friends, I was and am still in a bad crisis. I was not able to be human, I was not functioning properly. It was a terrible state. Now I am trying to re-learn these things.
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So it’s very good of you, shoe, to call round. To all of you, thankyou for this.
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‘I was not able to be human, I was not functioning properly. ‘
Maybe not, but we already have evidence to the contrary. Unfortunately, mental illness touches every family, yet we all seem to be a bit embarrassed by it, yet, if we broke a leg, or had a heart attack it would be different. I guess you need to take your medicine and continue to get better, Lehan. We all missed you here, and at the ABC.
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Always, when I think I’ve caught things in time, when I think I’m in recovery, I’m just falling, I fall further.
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Seems like you are on the mend. one needs to watch out for the spiral, it never seems to head on up!
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G’day Lehan Thank you for the paintings. I always feel suspended by you in a still moment, maybe second, a day, of an experience of yours. I love your paintings. They make me see. Yes, of course, keep painting.
Welcome back home to Australia. Our experiences are similar in respect we always, always are finding home again. Myself, I always of course experience homesickness for wherever i was before.. 🙂
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Hi Sandshoe.
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I’ve been in hospital. Now I’m in NSW and I’m going to be living here. It’s another new phase in my life. I don’t know how it is all going to go. What am I going to do? Some painting, what else.
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Sounds like a plan, Lehan. I trust you are now well and settled?
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I don’t really know what I am Big M, but anyway I’m going to be doing my best.
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Lehan, I still wonder what I will be when I grow up.
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I went to a garage sale yesterday early morning and a little boy (I leaned later just short of 3 years oild) came up to me who belonged to the household. He had been dressed by his mother in a cute brown dog onesie and he was staring at me through its open grinning mouth.
I thought later it was deliberate on his part he had followed me to end of the sale verandah where there was no-one else but him and me. He was a man on a mission. No-one could interfere with his enquiries at that reach where his parents could only see him and me. He established privacy. I thought he wanted me to shower praise on his appearance.
I said how wonderful he looked. He looked entirely puzzled. His eyebrows curled into a contortion. His head went on one side the better to look up and make eye contact under the rim of my black suede hippy hat.
“Are you a man?” he asked.
Let me explain. I had an empty green/khaki army back pack hanging on my back. I have lost a stone in weight so my jeans are daggy and hang like a sloppy jo bloke’s. My poverty too is a bit intense as I ‘ve spent a fortune recovering the yard and … as well the first 3 months saw me put in hundreds of dollars of curtain tracks inside to beat extreme sun exposure. Being run down and sloppy from that viewpoint reflects in my style of durable clothing to suit a pedestrian now devolved to the dregs without a decent op shop in town. All good. Clothing is next when I get to a regional town next month.
My troubled deep voice with its coarse intonations because of my vocal disability lends a certain air of hobo bloke. From where he was standing now close where he had shuffled to have a good look I would appear like a big hobo bloke. My shoulders are slightly stooping forward like a regular hobo bloke’s from day in and out leaning forward in the garden.
I smiled gently down at him and said, ‘No. I’m not a man’ and thought to add ‘I’m a woman’.
He was honestly stunned I think when I said “No I’m not a man” and his eyebrows did several contortions immediately. It looked a bit like confusion and worry. I don’t think he heard me say, “I’m a woman”.
His head fell to one side again as he peered up to make eye contact. I felt alarmed he looked so perplexed.
“What are you then?”
I felt like an imposter telling him I am a woman.
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We missed you, Lehan. Great paintings too.
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I like the first one, not much colour, but so much emotion captured with pencil and paper.
I noticed that you have had a small, but welcome, comeback on the Drum!
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That was nice. Was I missed? I wish I was missed.
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Were you missed, of course!
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You’re always missed here Lehan when you’re away. I always enjoy your artworks when you post them here.
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Bit sad Lehan. Have you read some of the latest offerings. The last ten are hilarious. I do like the purple.
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There are changes around. The date is on the page.
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