Elizabeth Woods likes to talk to people and she has a generous laugh to go with the conversation. She has been feeling very comfortable here in Airds for the past week, and has already visited several youth groups and churches rounding up participants for her Sport Academy—a makeshift table tennis academy inside number 12 Heathfield Place.

“The kids are absolutely unruly. They’re fantastic.”

She talks affectionately about the realness and ruggedness, and anarchy of Airds and the neighbourhood. The Academy is still a work in progress for Liz and she is hoping that this project continues into next year. She’s quite fancies the idea of being here and seeing it grow.

Liz makes generous use of her fantastic broad Australian vernacular. In between her deft shortcuts with Aussie slang, she slips in a bit of cheeky french. Although Liz is far from the elite contemporary artist of European hotiytoity, her portfolio boasts a handsome spread of residencies, as well as a number of excellent site based and community engaged projects. We soon launch into a furious discussion about the continental differences between art and public and engagement, and share our mutual frustrations at the limitations posed by bureaucracies and people, before returning our focus to the work at hand.

We are in the lounge room of what was once home to a family in a three bedroom townhouse. The smell of tomcats still permeates the air; for this Liz has bought some goanna oil to infuse the the carpet, conjuring the fragrant memories of stretched calf muscles and achilles heels. The house’s main interior is painted green, with lines marked out and flags adorning the walls; the glow from the green gives it a sporty feel of the green and gold. She has also made some t-shirts. A green and gold sign shouts in sans serif C’MON AUSSIE C’MON; stitched slang on banner.  An internal manchester linen cupboards have been turned into a sports cupboard. The laundry which also functions as an entrance into the house, is being prepared in a sea of ping pong balls adorning its interior walls. Liz also has plans to adorn other walls with the faces of local people, turning them into a local legends.

Yesterday a resident entered the house and made some suggestions to the order of a series of signs that were hung in the main space. Liz obliged, and in this way little spaces for collaboration are opened up. Site based works and community engagement often function through chance encounter and lucky for Liz she embraces the randomness. She likes to work like this and respects all the inevitable prior claims to space and site that go with any neighbourhood territory: “What gives you the right to come in and plonk a work in the street? […]You come into a space and you might decide on the paint colour, but the rest…[…]As an artist you can reach people in a way that other people can’t. If you give people a model that they understand, they are totally with you – you don’t need to talk to them about art theory, and all that shit.”

Over the weekend, the NSW Table tennis association is coming in to do a demonstration. The Academy has also connected Liz to Jim the 85 guru and table tennis champion of Campbelltown. Liz has her own history with table tennis being one of family of  7 she has a fond memory of childhood amateur neighbourhood competition. (Although in a stage whisper aside, she lets me know that Jim the guru has called her a cheat saying that she doesn’t serve the ball properly.)

“Table tennis is very democratic – anyone can play it. It’s a great game because it opens up—You can clown around with it you can take it seriously you don’t have to be a genius, you don’t need special shoes, you can just do it. And its comical.”

Liz shouts out to Travis and Luke, the 8 year old twins who live across the road. She asks them to hold out a large bag and to their absolute delight she fills it with enough ping pong balls to satisfy all of the kids in both of their classrooms. They are clearly stoked, and talk excitedly about practicing for the tournament the following weekend.

Meanwhile, across the street Ricardo’s busy moving house.