And I think about leaving the house

Here's a few slides of my recent body of work, well a tad bit more than a few but there you go:

I just realised how 'Pretty in Pink' this looks, besides the girl not quite achieving Molly Ringwald, still, nice.

Its about existence and identity and was mainly fueled by the bits and bobs picked up on the walk to the bus and some free books found in the trash.

I bet your fine ass!

Oh, glory in a 500g container.

Apparently no one knows this quote. I should probably stop using it in general conversation then.

"Is your donkey fine?"
"I bet your fine ass!"
"Dammit!"

So! I have internet! Oh the holy thing it is! I thought I had gone cold turkey, over it, but not really, I am mainly possessing it at the moment to ogle at Jarvis Cocker dancing. This is of use in some manner that I shall think of. Later.

I shall give a attempt at a brief description in five points of my two months so far in Adelaide.

1. First day of orientation. Found myself sitting with one person in a row of twenty six (yes, I counted, to prove such theories, the theory of peoples relativity to me) with no one siting near us. This only changed when a few of the hat wearing people sat on the other side next to my friend. My brother said it was because I smelt. I proceeded to scream that I didn't smell, I just didn't fit the stereotypical view of the modern female... blah blah blah. He simply called me "smelly butt". I shouted. He threw an acorn at me. I dodged. Found myself on the floor after nose diving into a door.

2. Attended that of a zine fair! A "zine" you ask? Its a self publication (yes not "Zion", I was not going to a Zion convention as others thought) full of illustrations, comics, perspectives, basically anything. It was in this dingy little sort of basement next to The Crazy Horse and felt rather underground. Bought some magical little gems, a sock monkey badge, "ZOMBIE VIDEO", a massive colour-it-in maze poster, books on feminism, the vegan shopper guide (did you know musk is the abdomen of a deer? "Why, what is that smell, are you wearing abdomen of deer?" "Why yes! ""How lovely!", who wants that?) and a few other zines. Everyone was dressed rather alternatively, holding black marker pens and discussing mix tapes. It was all a bit radical, well, not really. I later attended group discussions on international students in Adelaide, a graffiti exhibition and world music (plus live facebook: a.k.a: would you like pie with that?) in the same place.

3. Watched "The Reader" alone. Felt like a seedy man in the back row. Some scenes wouldn't go amiss in a Bill Henson exhibition quite rightly, but gosh! It was so fantastic! Besides the lady next to me sniffing loudly before exclaiming "ohhhh! NOOOO! I see what SHE'S DOIN'!" in the most crucial scene. I mean, the most crucial scene, the most emotional, the most devastating scene, and this was practically after the director told us! What is wrong with you woman?! Plus, the movies from the International film festival were all excellent, "Stella" was absolutely heart-breakingly beautiful- "I'm afraid of everything"- slightly tainted when nearing towards the end, the lady behind me said, "that's practically my childhood minus, like, the French and France thing, and like, the cafe thing and like yeah...". So, like...the whole basis of the, like, film then? "A film with me in it" caused the whole audience to laugh, giving me a new quote "don't go all vegetarian on me, now". Plus, "Kisses":


4. Found myself exclaiming in front of a rather large percentage of the school population that I was a furry Star Wars character:

(Common area, students gathered. Blonde things sitting around, congregation of students waiting for class)
M: If I'm yoda, what are you?
C: I'm wooki! (followed by angry bear moves, clawing the air, mouth open, demented face) ROWWARRRRRR!

(Common room all staring at demented ginger who just declared herself to be wooki. Respect lost, failure.)

This could have been a result of my further readings into the Science of Star Wars, a book I picked up for close to five cents. To quote " there are a lost of evidence knowing from the structure of their feet and backbones to prove Wookis lived in trees". I kid you not.)

5. Had a cosy little St Patrick's day in leprechaun chic and a warm, creamy glass a Baileys! Hope you had a good one too!

Invisible Light

I just received my Mystery Jets tickets, delivered by a nice man in a helmet. So, I guess I can stop the worrying, the threat of crying gone and rejoice with my tiny piece of paper.

Yesterday I went to an artist talk with the wonderful Joey Piziali at the Collectors Contemporary. He gave a wonderful talk, covering all aspects of art, from inspiration, interpretation and his own works from the "Invisible Light" collection.

Piziali is sort of how you expect artists to be, seeing beauty in everything, even the mundane, quirky and very inspirational, yet still very friendly. It was a real treat, amazing, actually, to be able to talk to him and gain insight into the art world. Plus gain a sneaky signature, oops!

So go check out his work at the Collectors Contemporary till the 24th January.

My weekly photoshop fix

After the Bill Henson ordeal, we made images protesting about freedom in art.
Ta dah!

Images from art this year, in the unit, defining yourself, this is "me" according to me.

My basis for the print, I love photoshop:

Messy Head

I leave mess every where. I accumulate it, its my super hero power. Today we had to clean our locker, over the past term I had collected around two armfuls of trash in my tiny locker. This included sheets with pictures of brains on that I think I was meant to fill in, a paper bag with my name written on it repeatedly for some unknown reason, a bag for bread with nothing inside it and brochures on safe sex with happy, shiny, young people (who actually were holding hands) on. I told you, its my special power, I keep everything. Today I found a piece of newspaper, and instead of putting it in the bin, I put it in my pocket. I would later take it out, analyse it in full detail, think for a while and then replace it in my pocket. By the end of the day I empty my pockets and I have about 20 different items I can line up on the table. ("Hey is that a mandarin, newspaper clipping on Amy Winehouse, used panadol packets and feather in your pocket or are you just happy to see me")

Due to this, most of the time I leave stuff downstairs in our lounge room, in about any place I can find that looks inconspicuous. My mother lines these items up on the stairs hoping that, if I use logic, when I go upstairs I will take the items and put them in my room. I don't have logic. Realising this finally, after around four days, and the items almost reaching my room, journeying upstairs boots and all, my mother asked me to remove them. To which I stated:

"Well done, I see your also working in installation art"

I shall explain. Around three years ago I witnessed Tracey Emin's messy bed. Since that eye opening experience I have called every mess an artwork, its not like I'm being a critic to modern art, I think that Emin's work is an amazing piece of artwork that deserves all of its praise. But for me, its just an easy way out. I have abused art but at least I get to watch the end of "Dead Like Me". Par example:

"Clean up these cups"
"Can't, work in progress. I call it "Dirty Cups""

OR

"Move your bag! Its been here for two weeks!"
"I'm trying to get the right balance, the right feeling. I just have not achieved my full artistic potential yet"

OR

"Take your stuff up, if you haven't realised it there as you step over them again and again"
"Wait, I'm layering the different medias together to form an aesthetically pleasing finished product"

It mightily pisses them off, but I usually get my way after a while. My bag is taken up, the cups gone and my Docs dragged to their resting place.

Except for this one time:

"I'll shove your installation art some place where it won't be too comfortable"

No one appreciates the arts these days.

An Abbreviation

These are from previous artworks, sneaky peaks I guess, once i track down the artworks I'll post em. Have a nice Monday!

Just When I Think Everythings Going Great

Today my friend commented upon a drawing this person was doing on the board, just a drawing, nothing out of the ordinary, a comment basically made to herself.

"It looks like an egg head".
"You're an egg head".

This is becoming a recurring theme with peoples, a certain type of people if you get my drift (I AM UNCOOL) insults, not only do they on average suck, using the others peoples own words but they have no real need to insult them, no matter how bad the insult is. Its just randomly grabbing air, its not like they called them a flying green spotted nincompoop and they feel the need to hit back because they're the bigger person, its just nothing. In other news there a chance that our school formal will be cancelled, and hopefully it will.

Why? As a girl should I not be proud to dress up in the manner of things, for a boy one might add, dance, and do those essential girly, teen dream things, such as buying shoes. Well no. For one, I can't dance. Yes, 10 years of ballet dancing has done nothing for my grace, sense of timing or anything else for that matter, but boy have I got good turn out! No, I dance like a cardboard gorilla, perhaps a gorilla that's arms move up and down once in a while, add a few clicks and by jove! You've got me spicing it up to "Golddigger", the boys are well impressed. (For that to happen, you need to rub your groin up against their leg, a bit like a dog humping it before they are so impressed they have to "go to the bathroom")

That's the other thing. The music will suck. If the mood takes me, a certain 80's Kylie number comes on, or Little Richard, I dance up a storm, I dance like a woman on speed. But that never happens, and perhaps for the reasons as stated before(I have inherited my fathers dancing skills, which in the late 1970's caused him to give his friend a black eye whilst dancing to "Ballroom Blitz"). For instance my Year 6 social ("The Big Bike Boogie" I might add, if that name doesn't inspire you to boogie down, I don't know what will) consisted of a soundtrack of Bob the Builder and Mambo Number Five, to which I spent the whole night backed up against the wall making pretty patterns with my glow sticks. So I'm not expecting much. My parents recall dancing in the 80's as wearing mohair jumpers and swaying from side to side, now that, I could do.

Then theres the date. The whole kerfuffle about who will go with who. Honest to blog, it shouldn't matter, because they're not going to dance with you romantically like Patrick Swayze, no Dirty Dancing for you and most certainly no end of night Pretty in Pink style kiss. (In retrospect, I would've chosen Duckie, Blaine does sound like a kitchen appliance) You'll just sort of stand there, adopting my method of clicking out of time. Or else you'll hump them, either way really.

And then theres the outfit. Now in History a while back, Sir asked us to make a list of what to do to get ready for the formal. He had separated the females from the males and asked us to compose separate lists. So I sat there as all the females around me desperately scrawled and I wrote (well firstly I wrote-"rent out movie pref. a comedy"because at that time I wasn't considering going) "condition hair". Sir then proceeded to ask us to read out our lists. The other girls read out "do nails, buy dress, buy shoes, do toenails, get hair done and lalalalalala" then thinking I would be a repeat asked me to read out my list. "Condition hair". Sir slightly amused said, "no dress then? no shoes?". The whole point of the exercise was to show how greatly different girls were to guys in their preparations, a sort of difference in the sexes and how females feel the need to prim up for the male ape race. Basically beginning our topic on feminism. I guess with me he lost his argument. (Later in the term he read my "rent movie" comment whilst flipping through my book, this again left him highly amused and despite my feminist rights attitude inherited from my gran, I felt like a complete twat.). So I'm not really looking forward to the getting ready part. Yet, I have bought my items already. What! Feminist rights activist me has already bought her dress and shoes? Why yes, I have, and how? Well, you might ask. I am aiming to spend the least amount of money on the formal as I can. At the moment I have a round total of 10 dollars, for my shoes and dress, in comparison to my friend whose budget is 800 buckaroos, inclusion of fake tan.

So, I'm set. All I need to do now is "condition hair".

I know, I know, its serious

When I get bored on my holidays I try and get inspired. I tried to become artistic and create stuff, which usually ends up with a whole load of junk that I will later trash. At that time I remember all the cold, Adelaide winters that i spent in front of the television, watching Art Attack! and become increasingly mad as i could not create the stuff that he made. I would jump to many conclusions, he was an alien being one of them (well, he was in a New Wave band). In the end I learnt to accept that my "funny faces" (which in fact was just a face drawn on clay and then bent, but at the time it sounded so completely awesome, you had to make one, whatever the fight with your parents. You bloody well needed to make that funny face) would never look as good as Neil Buchanan (who is not dead) and ended up trying to attack my cat with a coat hanger instead.

But, here are my last attempts at something creative in the holidays, stitchings based on song lyrics. Yes, I was bored and yes, it just happened by coincidence after I sat staring at them for ages due to my obvious boredom.

"Love is a Battle Field" being the first one and "Feed the Trees" being the second. After a while I tried to create more, come up with new designs and perhaps have an entire quilt. This idea failed as I tried to draw a Girlfriend in a Coma.

Feeling Old

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Soul Windows

A project from ages ago (if your wondering why I have so much stuff from August, its due to the fact my other website hates me, as does all technology, and I'm trying to salvage everything from there and placing it on here. Basically.

Cabbages and Kings- Photoshoot from Nov. 2007

Alice in Wonderland