Exploring Sammy Moore’s
My house is boring. As boring as a bird that doesn’t sing.
(1-2 year old baby reaching unsuccessfully for objects in kitchen. All cupboard doors child-locked, nothing on floor. Bench and shelves, where out of reach, FULL with stuff.)
But today is a different thing!
Today, we’re visiting Sammy Moore’s!
(Baby marching down footpath like little fat soldier.)
Sammy Moore’s with the cool doors,
a place that I can explore.
(Baby, warped face, looking through one of eight thick glass door panels.)
Sammy Moore’s, with the busy walls!
(Baby from behind, small as it walks down big, dark corridor with busy walls including paintings, ceramics, a bike, a surfboard.)
Where thunder is kept and whispers fall.
(Side on of baby walking, paintings and bike on wall framing it. Vine from pot creeping around a few paintings, etc…)
What’s this? A BATH? No! A pirate ship, barely moored!
(Baby climbing into bath in busy bathroom.)
Ahoy! Arg! Let the sharks eat you raw, Sammy Moore!
(Kid, dressed as pirate, is in bath, on rough seas, done up like pirate ship, ironing board as a plank, stuffed doll on end, shark fins in rough water.)
Flowers? Down here, where a baby might grab?
That’s pretty fab!
(Baby in front of large brass pot with beautiful, vinyl flowers. Still looks great, but lots of petals on floor, or in baby’s hand/mouth.)
Art thief? Watch me run, Sammy Moore!
(Beautiful, native mixed medium painting being held above baby’s head as it runs. Other framed art on floor, leaning on wall.
Your teenager’s old toys, Sammy Moore?
What a bore! I’ve already played with them before.
(Baby, with pot plant on head, dirt coming out, holding all the remote controls of the house, trotting past toys towards fish tank on low, thick wood bench, beside cleaning utensils.)
An old dog? Let’s battle!
Hey, don’t you eat my rattle!
(Baby, dog’s raw bone in one hand, rattle in other, wincing as being licked by old, shaggy blue heeler.)
Now, let’s be best friends!
And chase those hens!
(Baby waddling towards hens, dog not.)
Eat your bone raw?
Let me shake your paw!
Thank you, Sammy Moore, Sammy Moore!
Oh, oh, Sammy Moore,
a didgeridoo what’s more!
(Broken bowl in background. Fruit on floor. Baby sitting on ground, holding/looking down didgeridoo, not playing it.)
And books, big and small,
books, books, all over the floor!
(Baby running with smile, while reading upside down book, lots of books from wall-to-floor shelves on floor.)
I like your pictures Sammy Moore!
(Baby in front of fridge covered in magnets, and photos, including of Sammy Moore – solid, short hair, lovely, long-haired Indian wife. Both of them casual, unconventional. One postcard in kid’s mouth.)
Slide along a wooden floor.
Weeee! More, more, more…!
Music, music, Sammy Moore?
These are not the kids songs of yore!
(Record player. Records, some now on floor. Baby, wearing lamp shade, still holding rattle, dancing.)
Another adventure, another squeaky door,
No child proof locks, bless you, Sammy Moore!
(Cupboard open. Full but for a few jars now spilled on floor. Baby’s foot just leaving view.)
Mum and Dad too busy cleaning up
to enforce any laws.
You’re the best, I adore you Sammy Moore!
(Mum and Dad in foreground picking stuff up as baby is further down big dark hall, making a mess as it goes.)
This is no garden, it’s a jungle to climb,
Every shape, every sound and smell,
I love it all, Sammy Moore!
(Baby smiling, hands out as it runs past old ‘Kooka’ oven with soup on. Small radio on bench playing. Herb rack and garlic above stove.)
But what’s more, what’s more,
when we visit Sammy Moore,
(Baby still running, arms out, down hall. Closer image, from side. Big, clenched gnarly hands waiting for baby.)
I get to see my uncle, Sammy Moore!
(Sammy smiling as he is lifting deliriously happy baby into the air.)
(Final, small, image of baby sitting, smiling, looking up at Sammy Moore playing the didgeridoo.)