I had twenty minutes to myself in town this Saturday and, having charged up the City Library's central staircase, I was saved in some way by this mad proud pink creature atop the giant, dogged bumble-bee.

This is one of about a dozen paintings by Victorian artist Matthew Clarke that comprise his self-funded solo show, Matthew Does Art. It ends this Friday, and I think it's worth a look. The compositions and colours are really, really, really great and I love all the funny faces - I suppose I should be content to just admire Clarke's pictures but I really want to keep one.

Any of the pieces would have a pretty demanding presence in one's home - it would be like inviting a very noisy friend (and their pet elephant) to stay indefinitely.

These brooches were made to accompany lemon and white iced cupcakes, and all sorts of other divine little things. They were commissioned by MM (see her nice blog) for a magazine shoot.

Photographing work is often surprising/fraught. Sometimes I am disappointed by qualities that are lost or diminished; other times the image really aids the piece. The latter is the case here. I shot these in early Winter when the sun seemed always low in the sky.

Evian Lee (formerly of Von, with Lui Hon) made two sets of exquisite collars for the shop, for LMFF in 2009 - one set from plaster of Paris, the other from tyvek (with tiny tyvek-covered buttons) ... We also displayed some of the calico toiles because they were too beautiful not to.

I like to think of these as keepsake holders. They are small leather pouches strung on a silver chain to be worn about the neck.

They have a pocket at the front for practical things such as coins and keys and bobby pins, and a discreet pocket at the back for tiny precious things like a charm or a crystal or a photo-booth memento, a cat's whisker, a pressed clover and so on.

They are made from remnant leather (colours and characteristics do vary) and are about the size of the palm of your hand. Choose one from Milly Sleeping (limited stock available) or have one made to order via leahandned@gmail.com - $59 for a short chain or $65 for a longer one.

My good friend M. is reading The Artist's Way. She's got me doing morning pages and talking about our ideal (or perhaps fantasy) creative lives. She suggests that one day I will pack up suddenly and go to Paris, to write a long thesis on the colour red. It was a lovely throwaway line... but it's caused me some mental turmoil.

Why Paris and red?

Why not New York and yellow, or Alexandria and blue?

This is the leather lunch bag.

Wendy came up with the idea when we worked together for a design festival project a couple of years ago. I made it up as close to the design of an ordinary paper bag as I could, using imperfect remnant leather. Several heinous leather jackets have since been made into quite nice bags.

Originally, I didn't worry a great deal about whether or not the lunch bag could be used (or used regularly) because it's really just a nice object - there is an affinity between the original item and the simple replica that is pleasing - but I've always vaguely promised that I would come up with a more practical version, something a little bit more robust, with a detachable strap and a different closing mechanism. I've never been able to visualise this reworked bag in a form that convinces me... until this morning, when I think I caught a glimpse of it, in the shower.

Earlier in the week, there was a documentary on SBS about a fin whale that had become beached on an Irish coast, and not made it back to sea. It's premature death on land presented a rare opportunity; the world's foremost whale anatomy expert was flown to the site to dissect the creature, which she did zealously - working very quickly - feeling her way inside the giant body with great acuity to locate specific organs and bones.

Don't click here unless you want to see a picture of the whale's intestines, which Joy Reidenberg lugged out of the whale and onto the beach.

Do click here if you care for a factual reminder about the wonderful fin whale. Their reality is shocking to me. Prehistoric beast, yes. Television spectacle, yes. But sixty thousand or so real fin whales - calling, clicking and whistling to one another through the ocean deep on this same planet? Shudder.

I can't remember where exactly I photographed these funny mosaics. On the walls of a charming toilet block, in a Victorian coastal town. Mosaics have been stigmatised, I think, (quite possibly because of this kind of application) but I quite like them - big, clumsy ones and also fine, dainty ones made from broken teacups and that kind of thing.

Stingrays and sea horses are among my favourite ocean dwellers. I think this sea horse, though, was the weak link on the walls. They don't swim like that, do they? Perhaps it's a pipe fish.