This will hurt me...

The fine art of the handwritten letter shall not die while Henry strides the Earth!

This is a pencil sharpener. German engineering. Fünfzig Bleistifte in 20 Sekunden. Two holes. Ein Paradigmenwechsel in der Zeichnung Technologie. Be afraid.

The complexity and range of Henry and Ezra's science experiments are increasing ten-fold. Here, you can see Henry taking a container of water highly enriched in the hydrogen isotope deuterium over to Ezra (out of shot), who has somehow managed to get his hands on some unenriched uranium (don't ask) and has a little scheme to reduce our electricity bills...

We've set up a sweatshop at home whereby the boys have to complete twenty paintings every morning, otherwise they're on half rations.

The world's best artist? I'll leave it up to you to decide...

Art is at once incredibly complex and fundamentally simple. Art is balancing crayons delicately atop each other as you plan your next masterwork. Art is discovering that the delicately balanced crayons is art while your meticulously planned masterwork is tomorrows bin liner.

Occasionally we must suffer for our art. One day this might mean whipping off an ear or suffering a nervous breakdown. Other times it is biting off the nibs of your Textas... Swings and roundabouts.

He wears that t-shirt in an 'ironic' sense...

Art in action. April 2010 . In a rush, here's part one of a meme... 1. What's your favourite Dr. Seuss book? I loathe Dr. Seuss. I mean, really, he just makes words up and yet still can't work out regular metre? 2. If you could live in any home on a television series, what would it be? Robin's Nest, from Magnum P.I. 3. What's the longest you've gone without sleep? Five or six days. I wasn't really keeping track. 4. What's your favourite Barry Manilow song? What? I think that the only song of his I know was called Mandy , but I can't recall anything about it. Whether that makes it my favourite, I can only guess... 5. Who's your favourite Muppet? The now apparently dearly departed Guy Smiley . 6. What's the habit you're proudest of breaking? I stopped chewing my nails. Then I had children. 7. What's your favourite website? I don't play favourites, although if you click the link you will find an excellent example of web savvy. 8. ...

Art. It takes it out of you...

Anyone for tennis? Geilston Bay Tennis Club, April 2010 . I'm no good at tennis. More Roger Frugardi (Medieval knife wielder ) than Roger Federer, I'm prone to the fumbling faux par on the double handed backspin. It's a shame really, as I have the legs to carry those little skirts very nicely...

You've heard of the "naked chef"? This is the "naked architect". He's working on the scale model of his planned '100% organic eco-residence'.

Some weeks ago I mentioned the art outside my office window that was causing a rukus: the piano, the sandpit and the wailing sirens (of the heaving bosom variety, not the " WHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! " kind. Well I have finally got around to posting a pic! It had something to do with Brian Wilson, apparently.

Summer in Tasmania means festivals. More specifically, summer in Tasmania means f art festivals. Of course, I am a loather lover of the arts. My problem, however, is that the current MONA FOMA - MONA Festival of Music and Art , which seems to have centred itself in Hobart's Salamanca district, has meant an array of LOUD art right outside my office window. The past two weeks has seen a [ahem] sandpit with a piano rigged up to four amplifiers in it sat literally metres away from my desk. The "art" [ahem] involves members of the public (and their children), banging on said piano throughout the day. Compounding my misery, there is a looped track consisting of rising and falling harmonies that appears designed to infiltrate ones head with the sole purpose of engendering an intense desire to extricate one's brain with a teaspoon. Art indeed!

Occasionally I point the camera away from small children and try my hand at artsy fartsy photographs. I took the opportunity to snap a few moody black and whites (with dirt magnets in tow, of course) at the railyards at the Don River Railway. I reckon that the top one has a Dorothea Lange-vibe about it. Whaddaya reckon?

This bloody great big hand can be found next to the children's park in Montague Bay, itself found right next to the Tasman Bridge. I think that it has something to do with man's inhumanity to man. Or something. Not Waving but Drowning , by Stevie Smith Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he's dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said. Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning.

Equal parts Papunya Tula and Jackson Pollock, my little Hank is becoming quite the artist. Here he is endeavouring to convey the frighteningly original notion of man's inhumanity to man through a confronting montage of a whale being molested by a vole. Shocking stuff.