Motley Medley Of Merry Moments
Comfort the Disturbed- Disturb The Comfortable.
Easy There Mr Testosterone. You Can Be Replaced By A Zucchini.
I Don't Cook, Clean Or Put Icky Things Near My Mouth
- Badges by HOBO
Saturday was filled with the Surry Hills festival, followed by eating a huge chunk of art at the MCA. The former was a lovely way to spend a morning, wandering about in the sunshine perusing the wares and entertainment on offer and sitting on the grass eating vegie curry and buying jewellery made out of Lego and some cute patches and badges and bumping into various friendly faces. Oh, and if you ever see Parker's Organic Juices around please do give them a try. I had a sparkling pomegranate juice (well, half grape, 40% apple and the rest pomegranate) that almost made me cry out with delight!
Then I pretended to go and see Art and About, but instead got caught up by the MCA somehow! Just as I walked in I ran into Rapunzel and her Beau, and we decided to do one of the tours. Tour guide was well-meaning and presumbaly quite knowledgeable but so waffling that we gave up after a while and just did our own thing. Oh, how I LOVE THAT GALLERY! Think I am having some sort of Art Epiphany or thereabouts, as I found myself staring into what was essentially a rectangle of painted blue stripes with small squares in them with tears rolling down my face. Normally I don't 'get' pieces like that at all, so far as for all I can appreciate the technical skill but not actually have that 'smacked in the head' feeling. The whole room of Hilarie Mais' work has that effect on me, that 'punched in the gut' totally visceral and almost nauseating disturbance. It wasn't unpleasant, just unexpected! And there was some stunning pieces in the rest of the gallery too, particulary the Julia Rrap retrospective (make sure to go into the tiny dark room with th e mattress) and Martin Smith's beautiful photographs of suburbia with sad sweet stories and observations and song lyrics hand-cut into them and Gareth Sansom's big bold bright pieces with text like 'he spent new years eve alone... sniffing amyl' (or thereabouts, didn't think to copy it down exactly) and photos of him with prosthetic female body parts attached to his person stuck into the corners of the canvas. I was absolutely delirious and dizzy by the time I wandered outside. Art is exhausting!
Oh, and as I meant to post the other day, Art is My New Lover. Of a fashion, or maybe it is not Art itself but the whole... um... I don't know WHAT it is exactly! Just that I have been feeling a bit ho-hum in the horniness department of late, not sure of where my passions currently lie and then when I found myself at SCA the other day after months of not being not-very-often being wet-knickered in the direction of any particular persons or objects, or even lustful in general really, I was suddenly and utterly turned on by... ummm... the galleries? Seriously, all I wanted to do was shag something, anything, on that hard cold floor, or perhaps more correctly just shag the hard cold floor, surrounded by video installations and enormous prints, with the essence of pigment and glass drifting in from the neighbouring studios... (Has anyone else read Davida Allen's 'Close To The Bone'? Where Vicki seduced Hugo, a student in the art class she teaches, and the way she lusts for the scent of proper oils and so closely links her painting and her mothering and her libido)
On Sunday I toddled along to the Buxoms Wench's Birthday BBQ. Yummy! Big sunny backyard full of assorted perverts and family, kids running about the place, scoffing ridiculous amounts of food from the big piles of cheeses and crackers and bread rolls and tofu and vegie patties and chockies and cupcakes and Lukely's Amazing Tart and Belgian beer that matched my outfit, lying in the sun on a blankie and chatting and dozing. Then headed off to watch a friend do some sort of audtion-type thing but got waylaid my Madame Phantasm and ended up drinking and watching Kath And Kim at The Newtown. The Newtown is exciting for the fact that it is the only place I know of where one can enjoy a nice cool beer with bears and buddies whilst singing along to 'Homecoming Queen's Got A Gun' (Julie Brown, complete with filmclip). Then I went and danced at Loose Ends with the Buxom Wench and Lukely. It was fun, and I was slightly bedrunken, and La Donna's alter ego turned up and we danced and danced and there was a funny little boy from Malmo is giant glasses drinking red wine and the music was okay but... Its a Sunday night in Sydney. Yes, there be a lot of party people and some with jobs that conveniently give them Mondays off or who don't mind traipsing to work on half and hour's sleep and two Berocca but lots of us want/need to be home at a reasonable hour and would like some fun in the time we have to spend! So, please, dear DJs- DO NOT MAKE US WAIT TWO HOURS BEFORE PLAYING SOMETHING DANCEWORTHY! Grrr, by Sunday night one should not require foreplay*.
Today I bought a new sketchpad (which I somehow can't mark yet, think it deserves a new felt pen?) and had lunch at my favourite cheap-and-cheerful Lebanese foodery with Les Filthy Frog. It was FANTASTIC to see him- we work on the same campus (scarcely three buildings away from each other) but rarely seem to catch up. Now I am Uni. I will leave soon, do some chores at a friend's place, maybe have dinner with AC and ButchBitch and then get myself back here to the office. Have stocked the fridge with tofu-chilli-vegie-noodles that I cooked up this morning and soy yoghurt and I have fruit to nibble on and rosehip tea and so... I'm planning on doing an all-nighter again. Seems to be when I work best, nobody around but me and the moths and although I'm quite tired now if I have a little sleep on the couch and a coffee and the night-air clears my sinuses I think I could get much done. If only I knew quite what it was that I wanted to do!
* And most of you will no doubt be aware of my personal position on foreplay at the best of times *lol*
Easy There Mr Testosterone. You Can Be Replaced By A Zucchini.
I Don't Cook, Clean Or Put Icky Things Near My Mouth
- Badges by HOBO
Saturday was filled with the Surry Hills festival, followed by eating a huge chunk of art at the MCA. The former was a lovely way to spend a morning, wandering about in the sunshine perusing the wares and entertainment on offer and sitting on the grass eating vegie curry and buying jewellery made out of Lego and some cute patches and badges and bumping into various friendly faces. Oh, and if you ever see Parker's Organic Juices around please do give them a try. I had a sparkling pomegranate juice (well, half grape, 40% apple and the rest pomegranate) that almost made me cry out with delight!
Then I pretended to go and see Art and About, but instead got caught up by the MCA somehow! Just as I walked in I ran into Rapunzel and her Beau, and we decided to do one of the tours. Tour guide was well-meaning and presumbaly quite knowledgeable but so waffling that we gave up after a while and just did our own thing. Oh, how I LOVE THAT GALLERY! Think I am having some sort of Art Epiphany or thereabouts, as I found myself staring into what was essentially a rectangle of painted blue stripes with small squares in them with tears rolling down my face. Normally I don't 'get' pieces like that at all, so far as for all I can appreciate the technical skill but not actually have that 'smacked in the head' feeling. The whole room of Hilarie Mais' work has that effect on me, that 'punched in the gut' totally visceral and almost nauseating disturbance. It wasn't unpleasant, just unexpected! And there was some stunning pieces in the rest of the gallery too, particulary the Julia Rrap retrospective (make sure to go into the tiny dark room with th e mattress) and Martin Smith's beautiful photographs of suburbia with sad sweet stories and observations and song lyrics hand-cut into them and Gareth Sansom's big bold bright pieces with text like 'he spent new years eve alone... sniffing amyl' (or thereabouts, didn't think to copy it down exactly) and photos of him with prosthetic female body parts attached to his person stuck into the corners of the canvas. I was absolutely delirious and dizzy by the time I wandered outside. Art is exhausting!
Oh, and as I meant to post the other day, Art is My New Lover. Of a fashion, or maybe it is not Art itself but the whole... um... I don't know WHAT it is exactly! Just that I have been feeling a bit ho-hum in the horniness department of late, not sure of where my passions currently lie and then when I found myself at SCA the other day after months of not being not-very-often being wet-knickered in the direction of any particular persons or objects, or even lustful in general really, I was suddenly and utterly turned on by... ummm... the galleries? Seriously, all I wanted to do was shag something, anything, on that hard cold floor, or perhaps more correctly just shag the hard cold floor, surrounded by video installations and enormous prints, with the essence of pigment and glass drifting in from the neighbouring studios... (Has anyone else read Davida Allen's 'Close To The Bone'? Where Vicki seduced Hugo, a student in the art class she teaches, and the way she lusts for the scent of proper oils and so closely links her painting and her mothering and her libido)
On Sunday I toddled along to the Buxoms Wench's Birthday BBQ. Yummy! Big sunny backyard full of assorted perverts and family, kids running about the place, scoffing ridiculous amounts of food from the big piles of cheeses and crackers and bread rolls and tofu and vegie patties and chockies and cupcakes and Lukely's Amazing Tart and Belgian beer that matched my outfit, lying in the sun on a blankie and chatting and dozing. Then headed off to watch a friend do some sort of audtion-type thing but got waylaid my Madame Phantasm and ended up drinking and watching Kath And Kim at The Newtown. The Newtown is exciting for the fact that it is the only place I know of where one can enjoy a nice cool beer with bears and buddies whilst singing along to 'Homecoming Queen's Got A Gun' (Julie Brown, complete with filmclip). Then I went and danced at Loose Ends with the Buxom Wench and Lukely. It was fun, and I was slightly bedrunken, and La Donna's alter ego turned up and we danced and danced and there was a funny little boy from Malmo is giant glasses drinking red wine and the music was okay but... Its a Sunday night in Sydney. Yes, there be a lot of party people and some with jobs that conveniently give them Mondays off or who don't mind traipsing to work on half and hour's sleep and two Berocca but lots of us want/need to be home at a reasonable hour and would like some fun in the time we have to spend! So, please, dear DJs- DO NOT MAKE US WAIT TWO HOURS BEFORE PLAYING SOMETHING DANCEWORTHY! Grrr, by Sunday night one should not require foreplay*.
Today I bought a new sketchpad (which I somehow can't mark yet, think it deserves a new felt pen?) and had lunch at my favourite cheap-and-cheerful Lebanese foodery with Les Filthy Frog. It was FANTASTIC to see him- we work on the same campus (scarcely three buildings away from each other) but rarely seem to catch up. Now I am Uni. I will leave soon, do some chores at a friend's place, maybe have dinner with AC and ButchBitch and then get myself back here to the office. Have stocked the fridge with tofu-chilli-vegie-noodles that I cooked up this morning and soy yoghurt and I have fruit to nibble on and rosehip tea and so... I'm planning on doing an all-nighter again. Seems to be when I work best, nobody around but me and the moths and although I'm quite tired now if I have a little sleep on the couch and a coffee and the night-air clears my sinuses I think I could get much done. If only I knew quite what it was that I wanted to do!
* And most of you will no doubt be aware of my personal position on foreplay at the best of times *lol*
Labels: adventures, art, rambling
posted by Zoo at 3:49 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home