from Brunswick with LOVE

Buddy Guy to play Melbourne

2011-11-24T08:20:00.001Z

Composed yet effervescent blues player, Buddy Guy with polka dot guitar accoutrement is set to play Melbourne this April. I'm not entirely sure whether I'll still be on upside down soil, but if I am, might be a good time to catch the 75 year old from Louisiana ripping it up. I first caught sight of him on a 30 ft x 70 ft cinema screen as we sat on bad seats with a sneaky bottle of wine in hand, he was destroying (in a positive way) the Rolling Stones track, Champagne & Reefer. Martin Scorsese's documentary Shine a Light was playing, it charted the Rolling Stones "A Bigger Bang" Tour featuring the 1972 album Exile on Main Street. As we left the darkness, bottle empty, spirits high, with buzz akin to having just exited a concert, something felt different, a memory pin had been dropped on my life map. There were other great performances Jack White was soft and endearing, the sheer energy of Mick and character of Keith & Co was admirable, yet Buddy was something new and old rolled into one, his was a stand out performance . The Stones celebrate their 50th anniversary next year, lets hope the draw Buddy back into the fold, if not I pray I'm here in the Palais Theatre on the 3rd April when the lights go up.

in AW(M)E...

2011-11-22T09:58:00.001Z

I'm in my bed with PFD (post festival depression) even a fancy dinner at Coda tonight wasn't able to revive my dampened demeanor. Its a serious combination of crashes, excitement, adrenalin, champagne, late nights, early mornings, sugar and fantastically mesmerising loud music. The past four days have been an overload on the senses, its difficult to take stock of everything I've seen, heard and felt. I wandered around freely with my Media pass (Hi, my names Media, whats your name?) booze brimming networking events where the fizzy white and rock oysters appeared about my person, rubbing shoulders with Programme Directors from Glastonbury, Roskilde, Fuji Rocks (to name but a few). Lounging on plush seats in the Arts Centre as the intoxicating sounds of 70s golden age Ethiopia wash over me, Mulatu Astatke working his magic. Skanking away to Mad Professor as Irration Steppas get involved in the DJ booth. Being utterly blown away by the majestic voices of The Congos as they perform Heart of the Congos their seminal album produced by Lee Scratch Perry, this is their first time in Australia and I'm back stage saying hello in a cloud of Jah inspired smoke. In short my life is wonderful but nothing I can do right now is going to top the last 96 hours of my life. AWME thank you very much indeed, it was a pleasure working with you, working for you, running around, tweeting, blogging, facebooking, editing, uploading and of course schmoozing. I am going to watch a film now, perhaps Wah Do Dem?

Photograph © Tajette O'Halloran - Mornington Island Dancers

Photograph © Tajette O'Halloran - Noriko Tandano

Photograph © Marie Muggivan - Graveyard Train

Photograph © James Henry - Mad Professor

Photograph © James Henry - Public Opinion Afro Orchestra

Photograph © James Henry - Lotek

Photograph © James Henry

Photograph © Marie Muggivan

Thrilled

2011-11-21T03:29:00.000Z

Thrill the World zombies race to their starting point an unauthorised underground carpark used in Mad Max belonging to the University of Melbourne

2011-11-20T03:25:00.000Z

DIY studio party with live performance and exhibition, Fitzroy

2011-11-18T03:22:00.000Z

Melbourne is packed full of back street warehouses bursting with creative exploration and DIY events.

Summer shines down

2011-11-17T02:50:00.001Z

What better way to spend a Saturday morning than at the beach, we headed off early to beat the crowds and arrived in time for a breakfast of Champagne and strawberries on the shore. Once the masses arrived, feeling refreshed and invigorated by the sun and the scenery we headed off to a gay union in Fitzroy Gardens. What greeted us were flamingos, dolphins, dogs in tutu's and all manner of campness and frivolity. It was shaping up to a be a perfect day, I delighted in the trail around the park, the pauses for song, quizes, high jump and high jinks allowed the bubbles to fizz in my head and the conversation to flow. Australian's certainly know how to throw a party...

Black Rock Beach The calmness before the masses arrive - we left as the beach was becoming overwhelming My infatuation with the cars of Melbourne continues... The flamingo and the unicorn. Much campness in the park
Two hot dolphins

Carnivale time @ Edinburgh Gardens

2011-11-15T03:06:00.000Z

Two carnival leftovers from The Village

Edinburgh Gardens in North Fitzroy is the epicentre of Melbourne park life, I guess I would dare refer to it as the London Fields of Melbourne. It has the drinking, bike flexing, costume wearing elements, yet with less aggro and more sunshine, plus the toilets are safe and just about clean enough to use. I have already spent several sunny days lazing on a picnic blanket consuming alcohol and various chips and dips. Last weekend it was home to The Village a wonderful carnival, gypsy style with polka bands with many a waistcoat and moustache on display. I look forward to more impromptu events and gatherings ahead.

Harvest time

2011-11-11T22:27:00.001Z

Off to the Gathering in Werribee Park today, along with the rest of Melbourne, its a joyous day with a clear skies and sunshine forecast, I felt the twinge of home when I gazed at the line up, Portishead are headliners, Bristol massive. Other performers include TV on the Radio, Clap Hands Say Yeah, Trojan Soundsystem, Hypnotic Brass Ensemble and The Flaming Lips...

One door closes, four doors open...

2011-11-10T07:37:00.001Z

me @ Dark Horse Experiment, Australian's are very trusting with their expensive IT Consumables

I met up with a friend fresh off the boat from London for an evening in Melbourne. Having just arrived in Australia with his boyfriend and contemplating where to call home for the foreseeable future - Melbourne or Sydney. My own decision was a relatively simple analysis - the amount of interesting people I encountered whilst wandering the streets. Which of course was Melbourne, rich in ethnic diversity, fashion identity, musical individuality and pretty trams. However as my companion pointed out (something he wasn't prepared for) was Sydney's WOW factor, skyline, beaches, great weather and a capital city feel. Add to that the thriving magazine and fashion industry Sydney on first inspection was out shining Melbourne!

Sydney folk are very complimentary about Melbourne, they love the food, music and fashion, however the reverse is less generally less favourable with Melburnian's regarding there big brother as brash, in-your-face and money orientated, perhaps a touch of sibling rivalry.

To appreciate what Melbourne has to offer, requires more than a tram ride around the city, it reveals itself to you slowly, work and time are required to fully enjoy the fruits, there are hidden bars, cafe's and parks tucked away in the northern suburbs that offer something different. A bike ride along Merri Creek, will take you to Collingwood City Farm, where you can observe the peacock's fighting it out in the trees. A grey winter is peppered with an impressive array of festivals, comedy, music, film, human rights, or a human rights comedy, music, film, festival.

To fly the relatively impartial flag (I have no loyalty to Melbourne or Sydney at this stage) an adventure to unearth the merits of Melbourne was in order. With that in mind we embarked on a Thursday evening gallery hop, one of the great plus points of Melbourne is the burgeoning art scene both disparate and plentiful, there were eight galleries I knew of with openings that evening - we opted for four in the CBD all within walking/tram jumping distance.

The first, Flinders Lane Gallery, is a slick and rather affectionate money operation, the atmosphere both hospitable and gracious, there is nothing more awful than walking into a fancy gallery and being given the death stare of rejection. Okay you can't afford the art, but you're civilised and educated enough to appreciate it, plus you probably bring the 'credibility' factor up a little. As we drank the complimentary wine (best wine of the evening) and if nibbled on the remaining strawberries from the cheese platter, we engaged in conversation with one of the gallery representatives, the works in the main room had sold out all bar two. William Breen's oil on linen paintings were enticingly nostalgic yet modern depictions of Melbourne. These candid still lives captured the more edgier side of Fitzroy, Collingwood and Northcote in an endearing light and fitted perfectly into any design based environment. I was impressed by the tones and use of shadow and wondered if my home might one day be captured in the same way. The side room was home to industrial sculptures, less accessible, Scott remarked they 'belonged in the lobby of a large corporation', perhaps a mining one? Anyway we were less enthused and headed onwards.

William Breen at Flinders Lane Gallery
William Breen at Flinders Lane GalleryWilliam Breen at Flinders Lane Gallery

We were lucky enough to be shown paintings by William Breen from a previous exhibition.

Up seven floors of the Nicholas Building sits Blindside Gallery, an artist run space, it has the worst and most expensive wine on offer, last time I was there I actually laughed at how bad the wine (and art) was. This time the wine was as bad as I remembered, yet the art had improved slightly, still conceptual, the back room displayed work inspired by an essay written by an Academic who I've witnessed in a pool of vomit one drunken evening. It was a mix up of kryptonite and power lines, perhaps I should get round to reading the essay, however if the paintings by Piers Greville are anything to go by, I'm sensing it will be a tale of pre-apocalyptic meltdown. We gagged our wine down, engaged in pleasantries and moved on.

Piers Greville at Blindside Gallery

Next was a most unfriendly bunch, unhindered by the energies in the room, it was interesting to gauge how different each venue and crowd was. If I could equate the audience to a certain social set, it would be a brief period of severe insecurity when realising art school was about who could out cool each other, not through style but sheer intimidation and pretentious demeanour. The gallery, Daine Singer was cute and hospitable paintings by Sean Bailey were small and abstract in form, colour blocking and without context left me underwhelmed. A respite came in a trip to the toilet, we had to be escorted through the architecture studio upstairs, lots of fancy apples and high ceilings, swish.

Sean Bailey at Diane Singer

Sean Bailey at Diane Singer

Our last stop ended on a high, Dark Horse Experiment gallery home to a solid selection of medium to large scale figurative paintings by Adrian Doyle with decorative abstract fills - a modern day Klimt, the owner dressed in skinny leather tie was masquerading as a waiter, interacting with his clientele and creating an inclusive vibe. We were lead through a door into a large collaborative open studios, with music playing and around each desk were people encouraging you to observe their work, they are hosting a full on party on the 23rd December, so watch this space for details.

Adrian Doyle @ Dark Horse Experiment

Adrian Doyle @ Dark Horse Experiment

Adrian Doyle @ Dark Horse Experiment

Open Studios @ Dark Horse Experiment

Open Studios @ Dark Horse Experiment

2011-11-10T00:56:00.002Z

What am I good at... appreciate yourself day

Today I wrote a list, just for me, whilst I'm deciding where I'm going and how I want the new website to look I felt it important to focus on the things I'm good at.

Finding clothes - I can walk into a charity shop and find statement pieces that will be desirable for seasons to come, items that haven't come to being yet. These items are super cheap and more importantly unique.

Dressing up - I enjoy the opportunity to maximise ridiculous whether its ego driven glamour/excess height or expressive it all adds to the rich tapestry of creativity.

Enjoying art - inspiration comes from many avenues, architecture, galleries, people, it's important to recognise how much pleasure this can provide and the catalyst it creates in your own personal developments.

Making art - collaborating with friends to produce pictures - styling, art directing, sewing.

Writing - the sense of achievement when I re-read something I've written and marvel in delight - did I actually manage to write that, wow.

Meeting people - new and old friends, making connections, enjoying people and the light they bring.

All these skills are transferrable and come from within

Daily dilemas of a degree educated writer with no foundation studies in English

2011-10-29T00:58:00.001+01:00

Yesterday was the day my internal thought pattern imploded into a deep dark pit, I gave into the voices of despair, questioning, self worth and found myself in a little existential hole. "What have I achieved? Why hadn't I made it when others had, what was wrong with me? Why was I such a failure? How am I still trying to follow a dream, shouldn't I just give up, its clear I don't work as hard as I should, want it enough, have the skills to actually deliver" As I embraced the feeling of doom, I realised that once the day was over with a good sleep things would be okay again, and they were. I woke up revitalised and connected with some friends, the kilter had rebalanced, and I was back writing again.

Perhaps it was the rain, the 40 minute wait at a bus stop in West Footscray, the three hour journey home from a less rewarding clothing hunt, or the knowledge that I hadn't been fulfilling my creative needs (writing had died down) and spiritual ones (no yoga for two weeks). It's hard keeping yourself in check, maintaining friendships from the other side of the world, talking grandly about plans and then actually following them through - trying to find excuses/options for escape, if was was in London this would happen or if I knew these people this would happen, rather than actually just getting on with it. Doing is the most fundamental exercise in being good at something, without actually doing how are you going to get better? Consistency is a difficult daily struggle, I long to be a person that actually came home after a full days work and was like 'hold me back I cannot wait to get onto this laptop, no sorry dear I don't want to watch that mushy film, I'm devoting my life to my macbook. However it maybe something deeper than routine without recognition it feels as though I'm singing with great difficulty to myself. Writing for can be hard at times, it requires lots of thought and deliberation. Then there is a niggling voice at the back of your head that tells you how little you know, how undeveloped your skill is. Learning to switch off the voice and enjoy the process as much as the final article, is the biggest skill.

Identity crisis

2011-10-25T12:24:00.000+01:00

It's the change of season from winter to summer, you realise you've changed and so has your wardrobe. Knowing which side of your character to reveal through your blog is a tricky one. I've jumped around willy nilly for the past month procrastinating as to the best way forward. I've chatted to friends, enemies, old men at tram stops and I still feel I have a way to go before I'm ready to commit. For the interim I've switched to a rather hideous plane background, why, I have no idea, I closed my eyes and just clicked, I guess I thought I was in Coming to America for a split second. But what I realise is it didn't matter, anything that took me away from the sterile 'dynamic view' was a bonus, I missed my little side options, and links. Glad you're back with me fellas.

From Bristol with Love - Photographer, Kai _ Safe Harbour

2011-10-05T02:56:00.001+01:00

Tall, bearded and built like an ox, Kai Murphy’s intimidating silhouette juxtaposes his soft demeanor and philosophical attitude. A photographer in the traditional sense he opts for film over digital on most occasions. Sourcing old, often expired films donated by friends, scavenged from ships, junk shops and car boot sales. When successful this game of film roulette produces a whimsical nostalgia not matched in the apps of the iphone 4s. His subject matter is often linked to very personal associations of romance, people and places. Seeking out the new, his work documents a journey from initial meeting to a more developed perspective as the relationship progresses.

What I liked about Kai was his delicate nature and the energy and passion bursting out of him when he spoke of his work. He really believed in what he was doing, and went about it in a calm, organic way. Originally from he countryside he grew up on the river in a houseboat close to the border of three counties near to where Kate Moss now resides.

Martina Randles: You cite yourself as an absorber of cultures, what does this mean?
Kai Murphy: It means I can’t stop thinking about everything that I don’t know. My Granddad told me an amazing thing once “Those who don’t know history are deemed to repeat it”, I think about this all the time.

Martina Randles: What inspires you to take pictures?
Kai Murphy: The same feeling that you get when you hear an amazing piece of music… something just clicks, your gut rolls over and away you go.

Martina Randles: How many cameras do you have?
Kai Murphy: I own about 40 cameras, not all are working. My favorite camera to use is my Adox Sport 6x9. The oldest camera I own is also the biggest a Hunter Penrose process camera from 1893, I’m still looking for a decent wheelbarrow to transport it.

Martina Randles: What's better film or digital?
Kai Murphy: Its not a case of which is better, its more a case of whichever you prefer to use. When I get my hands on a friend’s digital camera I’m like a kid in a sweet shop, I can’t stop pushing the buttons. I’ll take a thousand pictures in one fell swoop. When I use film I am much more aware of the situations I get myself into, and the environment around me. I owned a digital camera once; it cost me about £150 it broke after a couple of months. I bought a 1967 Olympus Trip from a charity shop recently for £5 its still working today. I think it’s whatever floats your boat… film floats mine.

Martina Randles: Why did you decide to go to India, to you find yourself?
Kai Murphy: I have never had any intentions to find myself; I think if I ever did I would end up in a feedback loop of doom. I enjoy finding other people. I ended up in India because I was jealous of my girlfriend who had just bought tickets to go. I had just packed in my editing job and decided to join her - then discovered she was trying to get away from me.

Martina Randles: Have you ever been blown away by a photograph?
Kai Murphy: My friend Tom Mead took a great picture of a goat in China.

Martina Randles: You were a film maker before photography, how was that?
Kai Murphy: The film industry is fucking horrible yet it is utterly addictive chasing a dream, you discover you didn’t really know what the dream entailed - it becomes an endurance test.

Martina Randles: What are the differences?
Kai Murphy: To me photography and filmmaking are the same thing. I love to tell stories and to understand the natural narratives and rhythms that are happening all around us. A photograph is a film but with no exposition.

Martina Randles: What's Bristol saying?
Kai Murphy: Bristol is saying grab me by the balls or I’ll kick you in the ass.

Martina Randles: Where do you plan to take your work?
Kai Murphy: Well I just took it to the Dollar Street Gallery, but anywhere in the public eye is great. This year my goal is to make a book and have my cameras pay the rent.

Magical White Rabbit

2011-10-02T14:56:00.000+01:00

Wow, the White Rabbit gallery home to contemporary Chinese art took my breath away, on route to the airport post late lunch we took a detour to what I initially thought would be a shoe box sized gallery. Down an unassuming side street the glass paneled doors opened into a spacious four floored building home to painting, photography and sculpture. The works posed important questions about the world we inhabit and where we they human race is headed. I was overjoyed to find art which surprised and delighted. Most striking were the images of an overweight panda, rabbit and dear, each plonked in the middle of their own painting surrounded by broken down apartment blocks; large scale illustrations of humans hung alongside animal carcass; giant tree sculpture and Ai Weiwei's path of porcelain puddles. I wish I'd had more time, instead of a whistle stop tour I plan to return for a second visit, the array of Chinese teas in the cafe was enticing enough to tempt me back.

Liu Di's surreal photographs of gigantic animals squatting in suburbia

Black and white painting, giving an almost photograph feel

Easy to get lost amongst the sea of sculptures

Current photographs of Burmese prison camps by Lu Nan

Chris Town for China Heights

2011-09-30T04:28:00.000+01:00

Chris Town is no stranger to China Heights being a regular exhibitor for the gallery. Unsurprisingly many of his well priced and accessible prints (which appeared to be collages flattened by a high quality colour photocopier) had several red dots next to them (for those who don't know a red dot indicates sold). The theme for his latest offering 'Randy Credit Ruins Daily Contrast' was born out of his visits to China, where he found life synthetic and polluted. And reworked newspaper cuttings, mostly from tabloid press, exploring the manipulation of the media in a comedic light. The visual diary featuring flowers and advertising is the most engaging and even left me contemplating a purchase.

Exhibition runs until October 15th , L3, 16-28 Foster Street, Surry Hills

Where he creates, he encourages others to create

2011-09-28T00:35:00.000+01:00

Here is an edited interview with an inspirational photographer, Paul Barbera, originally written for Academy for Men. His generosity has connected me with some delightful people in Melbourne, the perfect Melburnian to feature on my blog.

Where They Create, he creates

Paul Barbera shoots ACNE Stockholm for Where They Create

Released on Frame this month, Where They Create is a weighty hard backed publication born out of Photographer Paul Barbera’s blog of the same name. It offers a glimpse into the international design spaces of Fantastic Man, Olaf Breuning, Julie Verhoeven, Opening Ceremony and Matali Crasset to name a few. Still very much a side project squeezed into a hectic photography schedule, this self-professed labour of love, has grown organically from an ingrained fascination with the world, to a voluminous reference of creative working environments.

Barbera maintains another blog, entitled Love Lost, a sumptuously voyeuristic peek into the bedrooms and occasional panties of smoulderingly unconventional muses. Hunger for exploration bubbles over into most probably all of his artistic endeavours, shooting editorial for high-end glossies including Vogue Living, Jalouse, View on Colour, Bloom and Elle Decoration.

Barbera is an effusive combination; disarming, dyslexic and driven, belonging to the pre Y Generation, son of migrants, he understands the value of working hard. He began shooting for Marie Clare at 24 and has lived in Rome, Warsaw, Berlin, Singapore and Amsterdam. Maneuvering his way with ease through the exchange I was surprised to discover Barbera rarely gave interviews in person or posed for photographs, the curious had become the subject of curiosity.

Martina Randles: So tell me, what was the appeal of the project, how did it come about, was it a natural evolution?
Paul Barbera: I can't just walk into a studio, it’s a way of getting into peoples faces, photography is a by product more than anything. It started 20 years ago documenting my best friend in high school, painter, Dominic Wood, the whole family are painters, it began in his fathers studio and has been evolving ever since.

Martina Randles: You’ve managed to cover a lot of ground, how do you decide on where to shoot?
Paul Barbera: Scott McCleland loves Where They Create and will pull me into jobs where I can work on my projects, recently I shot two artists in Beijing and one in the Kennedy headquarters. I don't care where it is, if a job comes up I take it, its completely random I can't wait to go to Russia. I had this job in Thailand and I took four weeks off to shoot, then I struggled to find places in Bangkok.

Martina Randles: You’ve just been working in China and have recently moved to New York, how do they compare?
Paul Barbera: New York feels like a third world city compared to China, the doors have opened and they might close again. I shot some stuff in Beijing and Shanghai, for Nike, they are trying to introduce women’s exercise to Chinese women but they're not allowed to sweat and they are all skinny anyway, it’s an uphill battle. I could make a book on New York there are so many spaces to shoot, and to dig up, it’s such an important city in the world.

Pages from the book Where They Create

Martina Randles: What original and obscure places has Where They Create taken you to?
Paul Barbera: The internet has changed everything I go to Bangkok, Shanghai - it’s not like all of sudden you enter another world, its difficult to find culturally original. I went to one of the Dutch colonies to shoot a very famous Curaçaoan artist; he was off his head totally drunk, I spent half a day with him I wasn't allowed to shoot. I get very restless when I don’t shoot anything, fortunately we ended up at a local surf beach, there was an old lady selling coke and little bits of food. She lived there with a little generator, painting her dreams and making little sculptures of aluminum foil, she couldn't understand why I was so interested in photographing her.

Martina Randles: How important in terms of ‘bigger than you’ social development is your work? Would you like to go to say, Iraq to find creative’s?
Paul Barbera: I'm a big fan of Poland and the Polish, I spent a summer in Warsaw and shot a Street Art Festival for a friend’s magazine Beast, there was no budget. The Polish went to Europe and realised that London isn't as great as they thought it would be, came home and bought there energy with them. In Amsterdam in particular you have this attitude that every Polish person is a crook and cheap laborer, because that’s what they are in Amsterdam. But actually there is so much going on there, I have out four or five spaces online and two made it into the book. I'm a fan of Poland. That’s my little bit, you change the landscape, but you’re right I’d love to go to Iraq, I’d love to go to Palestine, but I’d have to do it when stuff comes up, economically I can't afford to just take six months off.

Martina Randles: What was the biggest change you encountered when switching to digital?Paul Barbera: My interaction socially up until digital was the camera, that was the way that I dealt with people in a social context. Now I shoot so much, my surroundings, in the blog and love lost that I don't do any private stuff. There was this supposed civilized weekend away with some Czech people that turned out to be a complete two day non-sleeping bender. One guy fell off a balcony and cracked his face open, it was pretty graphic, and I’d documented the whole sequence from the train ride until the morning. I couldn’t be bothered doing that now when I’m out with my friends, its quite a funny story.

Martina Randles: What camera do you use?
Paul Barbera: It’s a dialogue that’s not important, not relevant. You've got love your equipment, what it is that you're using, but it doesn't matter what that thing is. Years ago shooting a lot of ad work I was way too young; 25 and working on bigger than me ad campaigns. I was shooting above my weight - I spent 30 grand on camera kit and had four assistants. It was about bringing confidence to the shoot; the client was spending a lot of money. I was young creating an illusion of mirrors; I don't play that game anymore.

Where They Create, is available to buy from Frame and most good bookstores.

Paul Barbera shoots Fantastic Man, Amsterdam for Where They Create

Paul Barbera shoots Pandarosa, Berlin for Where They Create

New Day, New Direction - Ninety Four Days

2011-09-28T00:00:00.000+01:00

Everyday is a new way to find my voice, always trying to write for me and for the reader, procrastinating all the time over the best method of achieving this. So today I woke up with a fresh idea, well fresh to me anyway. Perhaps as a result of a few people I've encountered, those that have identified the very essence of their work and molded it into something concise. I've been thinking about everything I've gained since I arrived in Melbourne and what my strengths are, and came to the conclusion that writing is a secondary skill to that of my ability to meet people, lots of different types of people. And that perhaps in some small way I could combine the two into something, I'm going to try and offer a different perspective on Brunswick, one that doesn't offer a place to hang out, although it still might (but in a less obvious than go here drink this kinda way), by meeting the people I've been lucky enough to engage with during my time here.

Ninety Five Days

2011-09-27T22:35:00.000+01:00

Moving from Dolphin to Headstand with a surprising degree of confidence...I've not quite reached the advanced (refer to above video) stage, however I felt amazing all day after my class with Jean, one of those rare instructors who motivates you hands on.

Ninety Six Days

2011-09-26T13:21:00.000+01:00

Turn your home into an art rescue centre... by purchasing other peoples junk...

Ninety Seven Days

2011-09-25T13:24:00.002+01:00

Escape the city... and return to your youth...

Ninety Eight Days

2011-09-24T13:15:00.000+01:00

Appreciate the beauty around you... gather flowers with friends......whilst enjoying the fruits of nature

Ninety Nine Days

2011-09-23T13:10:00.000+01:00

Do something nice for someone else... help a friend move...

One Hundred Days

2011-09-22T12:47:00.000+01:00

0ne hundred days left until I turn 32, well that's quite a lot of time to do something fun.

Best get doing stuff for me myself I.

How to survive Melbourne

2011-09-21T14:19:00.000+01:00

Thank you Miss K for your email, it’s reassuring hearing from other ‘out of towners’ about their perception of Melbourne, I sense there are a few similarities of opinions, I too am struggling to find ‘the place’, the Cheers bar that keeps pulling me back, the club that I can’t resist forming bonds with to ensure I am treated with an air of familiarity and acceptance. Perhaps the non-existence of these places is what makes Melbourne unique or maybe the do exist and I am yet to discover then, or dare I say it, I’ve become too desensitised (coming from a bigger city or being slightly more worldly wise ‘ahem’ older) that I fail to appreciate everything I have uncovered thus far.

I have managed to wind up/stumble upon quite a few decent house parties, a particular highlight was a Winter themed party, with jumpers, fake snow, fires and ski suits, pretty much all visits have occurred randomly and have the result of probing, persevering and saying yes to unpredictable and on occasion uncomfortable situations. Melbourne is a place of great cafes and even better house parties, all of which require a great deal of smiling and work to infiltrate, even now my links to these worlds are at best tenuous. However there is a lot to be said for stamina, and momentum, I haven’t stopped speaking to people since I arrived no matter how much of a dick I’ve felt at times.

For information on how to find people to talk at, try here

1. Melbourne Art Openings This is a fantastic tool for free booze and art; pretty much most of my Wednesdays/Thursdays when I've been lost and looking for inspiration have come blossomed here. There are lots of cute, creatively dressed types at these events. You can even go it alone under the guise of art - most importantly, the booze is heavily discounted or FREE, a great social lubricant. Be careful of too many fizzy whites on an empty stomach.

2. The Thousands (Three Thousand for Melbourne) The Thousands are GREAT, slightly more user friendly and less fluro before the revamp; I’m slowly adjusting to the new design. The OUT section usually has better ideas on what one should be doing with there time, whether its music, art or fashion there is something to entice. The guys at Rightanglestudio are business savvy and are making the site work.

3. FESTIVALSThere are an unbelievable amount of Melbourne based festivals to attend, volunteer - be involved in. The Australian World Music Expo (AWME) http://www.awme.com.au/, happens in November, I’ll helping the producers which is a great way to make connections. There are a ridiculous amount of events happening, there is an international film festival running now. The Wheeler Centre always has something interesting on.

I make myself go to as many places in Melbourne as possible, from shopping visits to obscure Savers to visiting well reviewed cheap eats in Footscray. It’s important to explore and find your own little spots. Okay so maybe (as you seem nice) I’ll share a few with you, certain places work at different days/times of the week, bars/spots have changeable vibes/crowds.

(i). Max out your area to suss out the best coffee shops, its an obvious one, yet imperative. I live just off Lygon so the best ones near me are Small Block, Each Peach, Sourdough and Greens if I’m looking for quantity. The Gelobar is tacky but nice, bar wise Eydies has great décor and friendly staff, feeling welcome is important. Shame but that’s the only bar I’ve really enjoyed near me, oh dear, perhaps I need to invest more time. Blackhearts and Sparrows - great for take out booze. To be honest I’m convinced there are some killer bars that I’m not cool enough to know about, with dancing and everyone being nice to each other whilst they go nuts. If anyone finds them…?

(ii). Smith Street, Northcote High Street, Sydney Road, Carlton, all these places you know already I can name specific bars, however I’ve not been blown away by any of them, half decent ones include, Gasometer, Joes Shoe Bar, Wesley Anne, Retreat, Old Post Office, Geralds Bar. In town, there are plenty of options, get the pack of playing/bar cards and ask around.

(iii). Take up an activity, Go-Go Dancing, Drawing Straws (life drawing), Choir, Vintage Fairs, anything that encourages interaction with humans is good. (iv) Club wise the is RGOB (Buffalo club), Anytime Place, Worker’s on a Monday, nights pulling the cool kids are Can’t Say and _____ (trying to find on facebook will update).

Basically I spend a lot of time reading, stalking, eavesdropping and drilling people for information, it could work for you too.

Slipping in disguised as a child ready to listen in on peoples conversations

~ Apollo Bay ~

2011-09-12T12:13:00.001+01:00

Mirage magazine and AFM have been consuming all my writing juices. For respite we decided to escape to the country/sea for the weekend. In the hills of Apollo Bay we observed seven rainbows, there was one that danced around the valley...

Have some RESPECT

2011-08-12T14:53:00.006+01:00

Stop searching, bring back youth clubs and youth workers, change the tax system so those receiving million pound bonuses get taxed more? Not sure what the solution is but that would be a start.

Keeping it REAL

2011-08-09T01:43:00.001+01:00

London goes up in flames but for what reason?

This lady tells it how it is...

Snow Shoot - Behind the Scenes

2011-07-24T02:20:00.004+01:00

A pictorial account: all images are the property of Martina Randles

Cars of Australia Part One

2011-07-24T00:45:00.002+01:00

Unsure where this inner engine sniffer has emerged from, perhaps that particular facet would have lain dormant, untouched, had I not reached these shores. Australia has drawn out elements of my character and taste I never knew existed, that is not say I don't appreciate good design, its just never have cars drawn my focus so much. Here is a collection of those that have left me in awe, bewilderment... there will be more to come, I see them all the time, so if you don't like engines, I suggest you look away now.

An incongruous collection of images from Sydney

2011-07-20T23:54:00.000+01:00

Not only do you find old pairs of shoes on most street hung over power lines as a massive non-committal statement, birds, by the dozen, or in this case hundreds can be found too, there must be an abundance of bread somewhere.

I'd forgotten how much I loved the taste of mince pies, silly me, I had a whole winters worth of catching up to do.

What I would like my retirement to look like.

The bird seemed indignant in the face of so many tourists, here is my rock, my family has been here for many centuries. Great posture.

Sydney antiques centre, full of a billion things you would like to one day own, with hefty price tags attached, no sales people harassing you either, a fantastic hangover experience.

Domestic flights in Australia, minimal security checks, I smuggled, unintentionally so loads of sewing needles in my hand luggage, my ID never saw the light of day, as nobody asked me to confirm who I was throughout the trip. Australia, the land of non-terrorists.

HBO - titties on show...

2011-07-18T13:24:00.004+01:00

It seems yet another HBO show has managed to ensnare me,

Similar themes of misogyny, from a mythical time when women had a different role in society, lots of nudity and darkness. And Sean Bean looking less hot.

Snow BALLS of momentum.

2011-07-18T13:17:00.001+01:00

Not entirely sure what has happened with my time here in Melbourne, but the days are flying by so quickly, my evenings disappear - I barely have time to update my blog. I am no longer in a job where I am required to be someone's assistant, in charge of my own workload the momentum had increased tenfold. I finish work late and I'm actually satisfied that I've made a mark somewhere. It's not entirely in the field of my choosing but it serves to remind me that self worth comes from being productive in any arena. And most importantly its spurred me on artistically, by selecting the creative areas I am finding energy for and focusing on fun projects. One of which is a shoot I have coming up this weekend, were off to the snow! It's amazing how many snow references you find when you start looking for them, when your friends start contributing too in it turns into a giant snowball, (excuse me).

Kings Ari-ght?

2011-07-12T12:33:00.001+01:00

Is a art initiative/studio/exhibition space run by artists for artists, my friend sits on the committee, so I have found myself there on numerous occasions (when I say numerous I really mean twice, the first time I was that drunk I turned up with a bottle of fizzy wine I'd stolen from the previous party.) This exhibition seemed better than the last, although I'm not entirely trusting of my judgment that night. I particularly enjoyed the sculptural nest of tables by Anna Horne, I would have happy given in pride of place in my lounge. Her work consistently invokes a response.

Everyone loves a phallic object, non?
Che
Checking out the tools

The exhibition runs at Kings Ari on King Street until 30th July closing with an artist talk from 4pm.

Melbourne by Night

2011-07-12T12:18:00.001+01:00

Melbourne does roof tops really well, the best ones serve alcohol, or provide a secret viewpoint at which to observe passers by with ease. This one was under lock and key until liquid lubrication allowed us to venture upstairs, it was fantastic, a great place to hang on a summers (or winters) night.

Pre-roof, the studio space is great in the dark

Diana - Sloganed up

2011-07-11T12:10:00.001+01:00

Brunswick has been very giving to me, in the warmer months I would find myself outside Melrose Place sifting through all the goodies left for the Op Shop. Disclaimer: The guy in the shop told me anything left outside was free for all as dumping was prohibited. One night I was walking home and I found a mini trolley full of magazine, vogues from 87, 95, 2001... three crates, I couldn't be bothered to sort and it was about to rain, I carted them home... I am going to start uploading some of my favourite images like this one...

Diana styling it with her raybans and slogan bag.

Gravy Train choo, choo!

2011-07-07T11:52:00.014+01:00

Melbourne is busting at the seams with musicians and artists, so much so, that its easy to get lost in amongst the mediocre. With so many scenes, gigs, parties, raves happening it's important to not only know where to go but what night to go on. Such as the case for the Old Bar, which I'm told is a decent boozer anyhow, Thursday night was the third of a three night show for Melbourne horror country seven piece band on the eve of their overseas tour. The venue lent itself perfect to a good ol' hoe down, people were jammed in and jigging away, the atmosphere was fantastic. Alas my camera didn't enjoy the light conditions, hopefully this clip will offer an insight... yet they were much more raucous in a packed pub downing shots in between songs.

Graveyard Train, not to be mistaken with Gravy Train (which I did), or the Credence Clearwater Revival song, or the 80's American band by the same name.

Strangers From Now On-Midnight Town Live from TBA Film & Design on Vimeo.

Strangers from now on, for ages I though the lead singer was a woman in disguise and had gone to the effort of wearing a moustache as though it was part of the act, his voice is amazing, with dare I say it, traces of Patti Smith, solid performance. This was the only

Community Cup

2011-07-01T11:39:00.000+01:00

2011 Community Cup, two local indie radio stations unite against Melbourne bands in the name of charity, and fun.

Cheerleaders and streakers were common place, I witnessed three naked men bunny hoping each other. This guy was particularly cheeky and managed to maintain the attention of the crowd for some time, had we arrived in the first half we would have been treated to the sight of breasts bouncing freely across the pitch. There is something very juvenile yet extremely enlightening about nudity at a football match!

Iconic Melbourne band You am I performed both on and off the pitch, the gig was rather entertaining.

Boat Crush - Alma Doepel

2011-06-30T13:51:00.001+01:00

Docklands is proving much more giving than I first gave it credit for.

Without the distractions of Melbourne CBD (Central Business District = town) I have been forced to think imaginatively and delve deeper into my surroundings. I've managed to tap into my neglected physical abilities by running, in the begining without purpose/direction, yet now with a rather lovely and expandable route. When I say lovely I mean stimulating, past the motorways, industrial parks, next to water, floodbanks, underneath electricity pylons and round the warehouses of North Melbourne. It's a good stretch takes about an hour and the beauty is when I become reaccustomed to running and my pace improves I can extend the lap further. Away from the workers and other lunch time joggers I feel free, removed from the corporate (albeit temporary) world I inhabit.

Walking can also be a pleasurable experience, I discovered an empty boat next to a boat yard moored on the far side of the docklands...

In need a massive repair the boat had been stripped and exposed, laid bare its beauty was still apparent. I ventured into the hold with water underfoot, a dark and cavernous space greeted me, unsure of my surroundings, aware that no one knew of my presence, I trod carefully, still managing to knock my head I retreated back up the ladder into the sunshine. There were two main sections, below deck I was able to reach, the work horse at the front and the cabins at the back (I'm assuming it was the back due to the positioning of the instruments above).

The boat was the Alma Doepel

Australia's Royle Family exists in The Castle

2011-06-29T08:41:00.002+01:00

My exploration into Australian culture has been progressing nicely, I'm currently mid way through The Bogan Delusion by David Nicholls a book that aims to explore the term bogan (Australian cousin of the CHAV - council housing and violent), what impact it has on society and whether it is just another way of exploiting the working class.

The Castle, recommended to me by some of my Australian peers who have been aiding me in cultural exploration is referenced in the book. Its a cute film about a backwater family trying to save their home from a large corporation looking to build another runway at Melbourne airport, they have the government in their pockets and a compulsory purchase order in hand. It offers a snapshot of Aussie bogan life, I found comparisons between The Royle Family in its down to earth humour. Most Australians have seen it, however it wasn't released beyond these shores, fortunately its easily downloadable and worth a watch. Eric Bana makes his acting debut, it was filmed over 11 days in 1997 and cost a mere $19,000 AUD to make.

Late night fumbles

2011-06-28T06:18:00.000+01:00

Half price cinema on Monday pulls in allsorts or bargain hunters, our late arrival to Kino on Collins for the opening week of Bridesmaids, placed us with limited seating. We opted for a darkened (the film had already started) corner at the top right, there appeared to be two seats almost together and with gentle cajoling the occupants of the adjoining one spots, displaced themselves in our favour. However in haste it appeared we had joined the loopy's in what we later coined as the 'cottaging' corner To my left, was a man who was permanently foraging in his lap under the cover of his jacket which rested gently over his thighs and lower stomach. This was sound tracked with heavy grunting and large unpredictable laughter, to my companions right a salty/sweet sweaty odour drifted thickly across, tingling our nose buds as it went - less noise more constant shifting. The film was entertaining during the times I was able to draw my focus away from what was going on around me. I felt trapped in my seat and moved closer and closer to my ally for solace.

When the film was finally over, I felt the need to stomp out the claustrophobia with a walk, perhaps not home, but far enough to shake off the involuntary participant experience I'd been subjected to.

My walk took me through a deserted park late at night, yet somehow I felt safer there with the wind and gargoyles.

Discovering the real docklands

2011-06-15T05:59:00.000+01:00

I've moved to the Dockands, I now spend at least eight hours a day, five days a week there. It's nothing like the centre of town, getting off the tram and walking across a dank park, it feels rather bleak and depressing, large angular modern glass buildings punctuate the roads and walkways. Perhaps its the time of year, once the sun kicks in it will look better, but in all honesty it reminds me of the grotesque business parks I had the misfortune to work in when I was living in Telford. (Telford = a grim blot on the landscape of Shropshire, the Birmingham over-spill, factories and cheap houses). One saving grace is that some of the docks history and industrial traces remain, plus its by the water, which is nice of course. The restaurants are mostly empty, with ugly plastic refits and inflated prices. With the relentless construction of massive apartment blocks - its as though the ghost town is waiting for the zombies to arrive.

My run took me to the right side of the motorway under the supporting pillar.

Embracing my fate, I ended up on the best run I'd been on since arriving in Australia. With my face to the sun I ran away from the new buildings, the AFL (Ethiad Stadium) and CBD towards the industrial warehouses. I wanted to reach the motorway, the 'Telford' end of the CBD (Incidentally there is a 'Paris' end here, which seems bizarre, why would you want to promote somewhere as being 'like' somewhere else, surely the trick is to make it in its own form - unique?) . I made it right underneath and scaled a post, gazing up I could see the parallel gap of sky between the two roads, I continued believing that my path would be blocked, yet there were openings that allowed me right to the waters edge. I could see the factory workers across the water smoking, looking at me as though I was a strange object. I scaled railings, and balanced on beams, moving slowly round taking in everything around me, the other cylinder shaped pastel buildings opposite the stacked trailer compartments adjacent. Looking down I saw a star fish, it had a arm missing (assuming they have five arms not four) yet its tentacles were still moving. I had to get it back in the water quick, trying to scoop it up with a piece of nearby plastic didn't work, so I used my fingers, it was damp and slimy and now at least back in the water.

I longed for my camera, yet absorbed in the moment, the noises of the motorway, ships, factories and seagulls filled my ears and the wind massaged my face. I continued, passing a homeless man's base camp, with immaculately stacked magazines and bottles, he seemed somewhat put out by my appearance and when I asked him which direction to run, he just pointed the way I came. Ignoring I headed off towards the abandoned shed, five bunny rabbits bobbed white in front of my path, darting off in different directions. I tried to find a way into the site, but it was well secured. I looped round and saw more rabbits, and headed in the direction of the homeless man's pointed finger. More rabbits and a strange looking crane, or was it a fair ground ride, indeterminable at my angle of view framed by two more standard looking cranes. Upon closer inspection via a good leg down the brook, past an abundance of rabbits droppings and a few more bobbing shocks of white I realised this was the 'doomed' Melbourne eye. Disorientated by my numerous impulsive about turns I was lost and running hard, it was bloody fantastic.

The doomed Melbourne eye Southern Star Observation Wheel was closed due to safety concerns.

Z A R A rush

2011-06-14T03:49:00.021+01:00

Seems bizarre that I'm taking a picture of Zara and sticking on my blog, after all not since I moved to London during my early 20s did I shop there, well on occasion during the sales maybe. I find Zara and many high street prices a little less value for money compared to the quality and originality of second hand clothes, notwithstanding H&M who seem to have the balance right. Primark became a little too guilty, full of queues and design defects for me to visit regularly. Yet Australia's high street prices are astronomical by comparison, so the arrival of Zara could be compared to the giant Primark on Regent Street opening. Sydney still has bouncers and queues to get into the store. I think I'll let the action die down before I pop in to buy a plain knee length skirt for work.

Moonlit Sanctuary

2011-06-13T04:40:00.037+01:00

I had so much fun wandering around the sanctuary, I almost forgot I was on a tour (I hate tours), it was super relaxed and informative. The keeper was in tune with everyone and allowed just the right amount of time to absorb the animals. It began with a petting session (snakes, reptiles etc), which we missed, alas Sorrento was not as close as we figured. Then onto the park where a host of marsupials most of which I'd not encountered before (some endangered) were waiting to be fed. Note: this a sanctuary not a rehabilitation centre, the animals here will remain in captivity (albeit a happy existence) until the die.

A highlight was listening to the Tazmanian Devils squeel over a chunk of meat, ambivalent to the other piece a few inches away and then coming back to drink the blood the keeper decanted into the pen. The Tawny Frogmouth was beautiful, my new favourite bird of Australia, an amazing creature with impressive plumage and a bright soft mouth that traps insects. Master of camouflage with feathers on its beak that jut out to sense when its prey is near. It was definitely worth the $30 entry, the group was a good size and all the money went to the centre which receives no additional funding from the government.

Wrapped in Cape Schanck

2011-06-12T04:05:00.022+01:00

Sometimes, well most of the time its good to get away, there is great merit in allowing the forces of nature to remind you of how beautiful it is and insignificant you are. When you remove yourself from the man made concrete jungle to the baron expanse of a cliff edge, you allow the wind to blow away your non-existent woes and the sun to revitalise.

Cape Schanck Lighthouse does tours - if you get there early enough!

O u t s i d e rainbow

2011-06-09T03:42:00.003+01:00

M a k e

a w i s h...

I n s i d e rainbow

2011-06-08T03:40:00.003+01:00

The For Walls

2011-06-07T03:08:00.037+01:00

It seems very popular to have a gallery attached to a pub these days, its not enough to be a pub itself you have to be a lifestyle - represent a scene - to assist in building longevity. The gallery itself can say a lot about its clientele, the type of gigs it holds and its persona in general. For Walls is placed in a quiet (unless there's a band sound checking) enclave at the back of Miss Libertine. It held a group show to celebrate its first birthday, the artists on display were hit and miss, perhaps down to my non-skate/graffiti leanings the pieces that jumped out were more classical in medium and skill. It was affordable art which could happily adorn my walls and pieces that I would never connect with, still taste is subjective as they say.

Watercolours by Lani Siow (I could have happily gone home with one of these reasonably priced works of art)

Urban outfitters in Australia through the medium of art....

2011-06-03T07:41:00.000+01:00

I very nearly forgot about this exhibition until I stumbled across the photographs from the opening. It was produced in conjunction with Urban Outfitters the American fashion retailer with a quirky slant, bent on increasing their brand awareness within Australia. Whether it’s to promote their online sales (UK brand ASOS have massively increased sales to Aus by offering free shipping) or they are planning to open a store here (as opposed to Sydney) in the coming months remains to be seen. Either way they spent some cash gaining taste maker kudos, they enlisted Three Thousand/Right Angle Studio to co-promote the exhibition which features 10 up and coming fashion photographers, each with their own style and varying degree of success. The after party/warehouse rave was quite a big affair, I signed up thinking it was a $10 entry job, arrived paid no entrance and was treated to a free bar. It reminded me of the squat parties I used to attend in London (there was only two toilets - however at least these had running water). The club eventually became the toilet queue which was highly amusing, alcohol and weeing go hand in hand. Dear Patti Smith Gallery, Collingwood was home to the smaller art based fronting of the evening, each photographer displayed one massive print, I wasn’t blown away. Perhaps I was missing some information, however I was a little broken from a heavy week, so didn’t hang around too long to find out. My complimentary Rekordelig cider took me up Smith Street and halfway home, maybe the photographers (and more of their work) will reappear at some point.

Melbourne Eye

2011-06-02T07:34:00.000+01:00

It might have been the first day of winter but with a bom recording of 19 degrees it felt like the cold May had begun to thaw. With that in mind I wanted to sample the gigantic wheel that mounted the Yarra river so close to my office, a perfect lunchtime activity.

Possum watch

2011-06-01T02:58:00.000+01:00

Heide High Point

2011-05-31T02:31:00.001+01:00

Heide museum of modern art can be found in Bulleen, on the northeast reaches of Melbourne. Difficult to access via public transport it took 90 minutes and three attempts (thwarted by bad weather and poor planning) to complete the journey. So happy to finally arrive I take the wrong route and head up the roadside, the long way round, past ditches and speeding traffic.

Heide I, a majestic 1930s chocolate box house in pink and white, gazes out at the road, softened by trees. I imagine John and Sunday Reed’s plethora of cats (they had their own cattery) prancing around the garden and the Heide circle (Sidney Nolan, Albert Tucker, Joy Hester and Laurence Hope), painting in various spots. Inside are small-scale versions of the sculptures found in the garden with 1960s abstract works from the Heidelberg school, intact library and kitchen with built in iron stove.

Heide II is an impressive example 60s modernist design, it reminded me of the writers pad in Clockwork Orange. I sat in the conversation pit, flicking through the book on Heide II, transported to a world of decadent parties, glamour and hedonism. There were a few adjustments to interior, the floating stairs had a banister and glass guard fitted after Sunday's favorite felines had taken a nasty fall. The open banister on the viewing gallery was also contained within glass, parties must have had an air of danger to them, with the cold sandstone walls and tiled floors, save the creaky wooden floorboards in the conversation pit, covered in shag pile. An exhibition of the schools graphic artists was on display throughout the house.

Taken in 1968 of Sweeney and his girlfriend. Sweeney committed suicide in 1979.

The Heide circle was a relaxed commune with open affairs and parties, Sunday reportedly engaged with various artists including Sidney Nolan who was married to John Reeds sister Cynthia at the time. She assisted Nolan in the Ned Kelly series; painting sections of the works, he left under emotional circumstances leaving his entire collection of 200+ works behind. Sunday returned his art yet retained the Ned Kelly paintings; she eventually gifted the works to the National Gallery of Victoria. Joy Hester the only female painter within the Heide circle had a son with Albert Tucker. When her son Sweeney was 3, she was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma and passed care of her child to the Reeds. Sunday became infertile after contracting gonorrhea from her first husband.

Heide III is a purpose built gallery space, exhibiting Albert Tuckers Modern Evil series, a fantastically engaging representation of the horrors of war displaced in Melbourne surrounds. Strong symbolism with angular depictions of devil pig women, clowns, prostitute and soldiers, the intensity of the pain sucks you in. Tucker was called up for duty in 1940; he worked as an army artist at the Heidelberg Military Hospital documenting its occupants who had endured disfigurement and mental illness as a result of service. After discharging in 1942 Tucker witnessed a shift in the attitudes and morals of Melbourne, wholesome family life had been replaced with teenagers and soldiers on the rampage. His paintings focused on the fall of women, in particular prostitutes, which he returns to during his years in Europe.

The gardens were beautifully landscaped and adorned with large and medium scale sculptures.

The site set on 16 acres over the Yarra river floodplain was a former dairy farm.

At first I thought it may be an installation, but on further discovery it was home to bees

I definitely got my monies worth the sun was dipping by the time I departed

Lifting the bar of positivity

2011-05-27T01:41:00.004+01:00

Sometimes you find yourself coasting along foolishly thinking nothing is ever going to change, then an event forces a complete shift in attitude, irrevocably altering your course. For me, (the black hole was deep) it's taken three consecutive events and several conversations with good (honest) friends to set myself on a positive angle. My job terminates in two weeks, the three month stepping stone, my island far from any pebbles, is starting to sink. I traded in my creativity for job security and a healthy income, the modern trappings of many dissatisfied folk. It's a messed world that those wanting to use their brain and skill earn considerably less than the numbing roles I've found myself in. Yesterday I filed for eight hours, I cried (momentarily) at the end of it. It was a cleansing process, made me question why I was in Australia, in an office, FILING. Instead of booking the next plane home, I thought about everything I wanted to achieve during my time here and how lackadaisical I’d been thus far. It's true when you're alone and have no friends you learn a great deal about yourself, mainly about how much you value those friends and how much you hate being on your own. Jokes aside it grants you perspective on other areas of your life, questions I've avoided answering, it taught me to be even more independent/self sufficient, how to manage my personality and build something from the ground up. The second was an offer to join the St Martins, FCP Alumni website, they wanted a biography from me, I took a look at my contemporaries; Online Editor at i-D, works at British Vogue, Arena Homme + Sportswear Editor come entrepreneur, for a moment I felt like I didn't belong. I sat down and began to write mine, bullet pointing everything I had done since leaving in 2007 and I surprised myself, my achievements were many (even the blip where I’d left London) looked good. You can paint any picture for yourself, but what matters more than anything is where you are now and how you feel about it, success is subjective. The exercise however served to reminded me of my capabilities and how scared I was of failure (a significant jades on my judgement). The third was a conversation with a firebird, totally enraptured with a wonderful and now successful (the fruits of his talent and her support) boyfriend. Leaving the UK was me running away from a massively shitty break up. I realise now that it was a result of accepting less than I deserve, and how important it is not to repeat the same patterns (something I almost fell into here), raising the bar and be positive (GO BIGGER). By changing what you do or allowing the force of fate to take over can have profoundly positive effects, embrace the upside.

Lenko Pops Up

2011-05-20T13:32:00.000+01:00

Maria modeling the more edgier version matt black with graphic lining.

Lenko is a cute store located at the lower end of Swanston Street, however for the next two months it has found an additional temporary home in Melbourne Central. The pop up store, has delightful merchandise carefully sourced from around the globe, some of it also being designed in house by the Lenko girls of course. Lazy Oaf the UK based label also makes an appearance. We wandered down to the opening to check out the store, they had a great selection of pendants, jumpers, cards and of course the animal hats, which I gather are very popular.

If only I had someone to buy this jumper for

What a cat pee on your bed? Never...

Jules looking fetching as a bear...

S I C K ness skewed...

2011-05-20T08:19:00.000+01:00

This week I've been mostly coughing the inner workings of my chest into the (very small) hand sink of my ensuite bathroom; there is no door to my room, just a stairwell rising up into the princess tower (a name coined way before my arrival).

My house mates have been subjected to a daily morning ritual, rising from their slumber with aural performance which is distinctly gruesome and animalistic, the sound of lungs attempting to function in a perpendicular state post eight hours of horizontal build up.

Melbourne is a place of new germs, my body is ill prepared to counter attack its unfamiliar strains. I've found myself clearing my way through ten days of fuzzy heads and hazy surroundings.

Today I got hit by a tram,

in my dazed state it whizzed past me, clipping my arm as I gazed ahead confused as to why people were signing in my direction. It was a sensory experience, aside the embarrassment and pain, the rush of Adrenalin was heightening. I am on five different drugs.

Illness warps everything. In a martyr like fashion I attempted to overlook my cold, denying any desire to go home and sleep, instead consoling myself in the distraction of life, My social calendar brimming with alcohol based activities, hot toddy's to get my through the day, glasses of fizzy white post work at various openings around the city. Tonight, warehouse, party, bar and opening, in reverse order, interesting, the mind immediately jumps to the end. There is something grossly sadistic about ignoring ones ills and pushing through, yet the sickness makes you feel alive and inspired, perhaps by ignoring the problem it goes away.

Suggestive Sax

2011-05-18T12:46:00.001+01:00

Von Haus has now become my new favourite place, its small enough to feel friendly and with a discerning eye for the finishing touches which enhance your experience. Upstairs you will discover the Sarah Scout Gallery, once home to Eugene von Gerard in the 1850s the building reeks of character. Inside the space is spans two rooms, one semi office come exhibition space and the other a room in which to view art.

We found ourselves at the opening of a new exhibition by Lou Hubbard who appears to have strong links with the gallery and Claire Lambe (from what I gather a curator in her own right) at the Sarah Scout Gallery. The work is evocative, suggestive and somewhat cheeky, its references are suggestive and play on the feminine. I found myself wanting to pick up the truncheon, squeeze the leather and kneed the clay. It all seemed highly marketable.

One of the highlights of the evening aside the art work of course was when a friend of the artists tripped over the clear perspex, momentarily destroying the work. The clay which was unset, was unable to support the weight of the guy and fell flat, an eerie uncomfortableness swept over as we watched the car crash ensue. He managed to style it out moderately, however the entire room (which was packed) played witness to the event. The artist with a courteous smile on her face and the aid of the gallery owner graciously moulded the work back into its original form (or as near as its ever going to get).

The bathroom was magnificent

YAKETY SAX - Lou Hubbard and Claire Lambe runs at Sarah Scout Gallery, Von Haus building, 1A Crossley Street -19 May to 11 June 2011

Human Rights opens its doors to art... and protest

2011-05-17T12:42:00.001+01:00

Human Rights is such a sensitive issue, yet when combined with art it becomes embroiled in a debate as to whether art is the main importance or the message itself, or are the unequivocally entwined - what is art without its message anyway... the selection curated by Joanna Gould and Brooke Tia Silcox, certainly covered all bases - photography, installation, film/documentary, sculpture, painting, live performance. The room at No Vacancy gallery inside the QV building filled up quickly, I was glad to have arrived with a little time to move freely before the polite shuffling began. Skateistan is a project in Afghanistan empowering children by teaching them to skate, the video documentary by Jacob Simkin explores the impact of the project, by working closely with five children, and developing their photographic skills in the process.

Same sex weddings, are forbidden in Australia, the piece documents many couples who would like to be married but are unable to because of their choice of partner.

This piece was fascinating - see shaky (out of focus explanation below).

I became embroiled in a protest outside where some hard nut Palestine protesters were up in arms as their art work wasn't included in the exhibition - it later transpired that a work from the artist was selected, he decided to add a further piece a few days before which was declined as it hadn't even been seen by the curators. I ended up getting shouted at by an angry lady for not being able to argue with her, as I stated that wasn't informed enough to give her the answer she was looking for, this acted like a red rag...

Neon Nuns

2011-05-16T11:52:00.000+01:00

Sister Corita Kent seems like a pretty formidable lady, her life was filled with teaching and art, this resonates in her graphic slogans on harmony and respect. Her serigraphs are make their debut appearance in Melbourne at Neon Parc gallery (just off Bourke Street). SCK passed away in 1986, 25 years ago, money from the sale of her artwork goes on to fund the Immaculate Heart Community.

The exhibition runs until 4 June.

Walks in the dark towards the light...

2011-05-15T10:38:00.000+01:00

So it's been pouring down with rain all weekend, I'm bored shitless, I have no place to go and no one to go with. It's Sunday and I've not done anything creative all weekend, I feel guilty. I decide to smoke a joint and take a walk, with my ipod for company and my camera for stimulation I head out into the night looking for inspiration. First I encounter a man hoovering in a place near the bike track its illuminated and the concept of the voyeur engulfs me, I start snapping away hoping to get a great stalker shot. Alas nothing comes and he disappears from view. I continue into the dark and play with the idea of filming myself under the light from the lamp post the idea is essentially good, but I feel self conscious and the images remind me why I'm not a model. I try out different locations, the garage, the street, it becomes less successful. I remove myself from the picture and focus on what is in front of me, the way light and dark play with the camera... here are the results...

What I like about Melbourne are the contrasting buildings, the architectural styles are so vast for such a young city. I wish I had a better camera (and better photo shop skills), in the darkness provides limited information, however the images offer a suggestion as to the community around...

Lunch times are for enrichment...

2011-05-14T11:38:00.000+01:00

So I went to the wrong gallery, and had to drag my friend and I back from where we came, we missed the first 10 minutes, the section I was most excited to hear about. I hadn't made it to the splinter exhibition of Men's Style, just to confuse the display spans two galleries, the National Gallery of Victoria, International and the Ian Potter Centre. The talk lasted 40 minutes and walked us through the various exhibits within the Dandy section of the Ian Potter Centre, it was good to meet the curator and hear first hand about the designers and garments...

1920s linen suit became fashion attire for the artistic man.

Interesting choice of suit on offer, the subtle nuances are marked throughout the exhibition.

Heidi Slimane for Dior, before he became a full time photographer he was an extremely talented designer. This men's cape is stunning.

It was good to see the range bought up to date with the latest offering from Rick Owens, one of fashions most contemporary menswear designers. This was taken directly from Spring Summer 2011 collection.

Dancing in the dark.

2011-05-12T14:54:00.001+01:00

Positivity can come from darkness, an opportunity to turn the lights off and focus, removing external distractions and stripping the self-conscience away. The omission of one sense forces us to enhance another, producing a relaxing acceptance of our surroundings. Sam Potter (Late of the Pier) and Eat Your Own Ears present an evening of darkness full of music. A venue devoid of light will become host to a healthy line up musicians and dj's carefully curated by the boys. Adding further anticipation the artists are planning to remain anonymous throughout. I would like to be in London for this show, at the very least to have my foot stamped on and get felt up in the dark. After the initial novelty has subsided a plateau might be attained in which to embrace a publicly sensory first, or maybe not, either way it will certainly be fun.

The night Blackout is the first of a series of music events from the collective and is supported by National Lottery via the Arts Council.

Walter Hugo LIVE

2011-05-11T10:47:00.000+01:00

Its been a long day and I'm still up, watching with glee at 'Walter Hugo' revealing the techniques behind antique photography in its early beginnings.

It's streaming LIVE now on Show Studio.

Photographs from showcase exhibition

Reflecting the Bright Lights... from London Sessions Productions on Vimeo.

Modern quandary...Lentil as Anything's trust exercise,

2011-05-10T05:35:00.002+01:00

Lentil as Anything is a buffet style eatery set in a convent in Abbotsford, the concept is simple pay what you think the meal is worth. However, the trust exercise only extends so far, as the charity barely breaks even each month, which is surprising when you consider how many people are in there. Packed to the rafters with young eco trendies, rosey faced mothers, yuppy gays sharing a bottle and shouty teenagers, I ponder 'who left without paying?'

The fare on offer was varied an comforting, baked potato with beans, dahl, salad, rice, pasta, curries and vegetables. I consumed one and a half platefuls with ease and still found room for a small serving of rice pudding. With my belly full save bloaty, I was able to absorb the hippy 'trippy' music on offer, live five piece jamming their way through the evening with a composed sense of contentment. When I got bored of that, I had Charlie (Chaplin) projected on to the wall overhead, all bases were covered.

I left with a wholesome feeling, after depositing a tenner into the tinbox – a completely different sensation from departing Naked for Satan after rejecting a handful of used cocktail sticks into the sanitary bin.

I abandoned my bicycle to the rain and attempted to hitchhike back west to Lygon, failing, I dived into the bus shelter when I engaged with a fellow dinner, or rather a young drunk with two Tupperware boxes packed with LAA dishes and a bottle of non-descript ale. We waited wilfully for a bus to appear; I flashed my empty myki card and hoped on. Arriving home cold and wet some 50 minutes later, shame it’s so far from home.

The hand that rocks the Tesco...

2011-05-06T08:03:00.001+01:00

It was over a year ago since my dalliance with the Bristol Tesco protests. It happened on a rather glorious day in March - back then it was more of a civilised eviction, with horses, police and cranes. Despite the protesters being removed successfully, losing their squat and most probably being booked by the police, the publicity coverage over the plight must have impacted Tesco's PR department. In turn becoming a figurehead for anti-capitalists and activists to throw darts (or more recently petrol bombs and art works) at.

Tesco Value Petrol Bomb, by Banksy, I love the Daily Mails spin, made me laugh out loud

It's a not-so-modern dilemma that beseeches my generation, one of capitalism, monopolisation, aggressive expansion. Its impact is one that could potentially change our urban landscape, replacing communities with retail parks, shopping centres, lining the pockets of a few rather than spreading the wealth more evenly. I grew up in a new town, built over an old town, Telford was born in the 1960s, it's town centre - a giant indoor shopping centre. The old town, Wellington - where fortunately I spent majority of my childhood - a medieval market town. Evolving slowly over time, next to a Roman road, which led from Holyhead (North Wales coast) to the River Thames in London, such history and inspiration. It bore the marks of time, narrow streets, Tudor buildings, town square, however has become more shabby since. Many have closed their doors as the supermarkets moved in, vacant spaces, now home to charity shops and discount frozen food stores. When I think back to the richness of my youth I recount with longing the focaccias hand made daily by the grumpy Italian in the kitchen of Sidolis; Chelsea buns bought with tuck money from the kindly bakers with the dickensian square glass frontage; pic and mix sweets from the market as a Saturday treat, coconut wheels and peanut brittle; saving and savouring every Christmas present bought for my family from Woolworths and little homely shops. Not discounting the joy of a McDonalds happy meal at Telford Town Centre or shoplifting in C&A. I think I learnt more about interaction with adults from the independent shops that knew their customers and were able to impart some of their personality on you. The richness that life provides is never going to be found in endless trips to giant Tesco's. Yet it is our own hand that leads us there, the anti-movement comes from our choices. It is difficult to pay more, make life more laborious, make several trips to different stores, but if we are to support each other, encourage our communities to care then we must.

In New York they have food co-operatives, where customers become members and contribute their time, usually three hours a month - in turn they can to shop in the store buying food with considerably lower mark ups.

If the milk turns sour...

2011-05-05T07:25:00.000+01:00

After a night of drinking pina coladas, rum & ginger, whiskey shots on an empty stomach, dancing round like a loon and getting cabs across the city - I find myself unsurprisingly with my head planted inside the toilet basin, retching what little stomach content I have left in the water below. It's moving day - in true Martina fashion - I'm armed with a killer hangover and little or rather no preparation. I cast my mind to images of a man staggering semi-naked through the desert, blood seeping from behind, lost and confused, and I'm thankful for the moderate state I find myself in. The soundtrack and inspiration for said images are the work of my neighbour (or should that be ex-neighbour for I now reside where he once was) Benjamin McDonald, talented composer, member of Melbourne bands Butcher Blades and Clubfeet (more to follow). Sour Milk is a well produced short film set in the scrub land of Australia with a dark and somewhat sexy twist, the mystery leans towards the surreal; yet captivating throughout...

Sour Milk from Signal Faults on Vimeo.

The slumps of utopia, feel right at home.

2011-05-04T06:26:00.000+01:00

Continuing on from the Will and Kate post...

fortunately Utopian Slumps, whose opening I missed last Thursday, stayed open late for me to come and have a look around. The gallery owner Michelle had turned the enterprise from a non-profit to successful business over the course of five years. Utopian Slumps currently represents 13 Melbourne based artists. Owner builder showcases the work of New Zealand fine artist Jake Walker who takes existing works and adds geometric structure with paint, text and marking. The effect is engaging, with a reassuringly 70s familiarity, in faded hues and architectural shapes. Walker spent time in England, Germany and America in the late 90s.

Owner Builder
Jake Walker
runs until 21 May 2011

Different spots, same animal...

2011-05-03T06:27:00.000+01:00

I think it’s important to choose your team on something deeper than merit, roots played a crucial role in my selection, I settled off Lygon which means Carlton by default became my home team. When it comes down to it though, it’s only a massive circle full of a 100,000 people wanting to belong to something, expel some pent up aggression and swear in public whilst drinking. Ah almost familiar, save the organised violence and segregated ends that British football (/soccer/whatever) provides. The day, happily sunny, my lateness caused me to arrive half time, no phone reception led me to link up with an Australian work colleague and several of his friends, all boys, an authentic Aussie experience. They were Essendon, I was a rival, local derby by all accounts and an even match, the draw created a nail biting finish, we almost won. Apparently not all the games were as exciting, but nevertheless I vowed to return.

The AFL is very similar to British football in that it has WAGs, love of 'bling' (more money than style) and scandals afoot... the latest saga AFL players all sleeping with a teenager, who posted naked pictures of them online, the manager went to alleviate the situation and then somehow ended up sleeping with her and also posing nude - go figure.

Dreams of Africa on a musical note...

2011-05-02T13:31:00.002+01:00

My finances hardly ever work out how I envisage them, when I landed on wet Melbourne soil, way back in floodie January. I planned to sail into a bar job that would grant me access to lots of people, thus forming a creative network through which my energies could flow. In hindsight I advise anyone to avoid arriving in January, unless of course the plan is to bum around. It's the middle of the summer, height of the school holidays and bars are still fully staffed post Christmas. Add to that the working holiday visa disability, and a trail of hot, young travellers armed with cv's walking the same paths, the odds were inevitably out of favour. And so came February, I had successfully secured a home (out of the grasp of another it was later revealed) yet no work and a massively depleted bank account. By the time I started working six weeks from when I first arrived, in a job I didn't plan on doing, I was massively in debt. A debt which hopefully won't impede my ability to travel beyond Australia to South Africa and Nigeria during my time here. However such decadent adventures seem slightly unobtainable right now...

Poetically for extra pocket money I'm writing press releases and bio's for Tribe records, one of the more discerning afro house labels. When I watch the music videos for the releases particularly the one below, it makes me more resolute in my plans to visit, for the community is changing folks... makes me wonder what the ‘new’ Africa is really like... (watch this space!)

Bad diary keeping leads to fuzzy feeling inside...

2011-04-30T02:13:00.001+01:00

A day late for one opening and a week early for another, a symptom of my flu like state bought on from five days of excess rolling into the three day week. A reminder that sometimes an early night is in order. I arrived at the second (perceived) opening with my first ever migraine, Ravi to the rescue, five minutes later I'm tucked up in his warehouse with water and pills. The royal wedding is playing out through the television speakers in the floor above. I shuffle upstairs in time for the procession, Diana, no sorry Kate, no I mean Kathryn, looks actually rather amazing. Phew we've pulled it off, I'm inwardly impressed that we got it right. For a minute their I thought it might be a stuffy number but the dress looks like a modern take on the princess fantasy every girl dreams of (when I say every girl, I don't really mean it, but if we did that's what it would look like). Dressed in a McQueen creation designed by Sarah Burton, it was only last year that Lee (Alexander McQueen) took his own life. It seems fittingly poetic that this was the British label/designer chosen for the task. The Chantilly lace every bit a Parisian bombshell of elegance, creating the modern coveted vintage feel, the shape is classic yet contemporary. With a slightly less exaggerated form, it provides a reference to the fairy tale without becoming a parody of it.

An excellent choice for a well executed day, I would have liked to have seen Harry with his big hair pulled into check, merely on the style stakes, he would have looked debonair next to his balding brother who was literally gushing with happiness.

/New 11//////\\\\

2011-04-30T01:45:00.000+01:00

We strolled along to the New 11 exhibition at ACCA it was the perfect size on a sunny day, in and out in 30 minutes. There are around 10 artists on display, presenting sculpture, installation, photography and clothing. I particularly enjoyed the interactive installation with sand, palm tree and skeleton, you enter through a cleaning cupboard which is fun. The clothing work was slightly disconnected, the artist had met other artists and designed clothes for them, which would be great if they were groundbreaking or well made - I struggled to connect with the concept. There was a room full of projections, with a larger than life character adorned in paper hair all over its body jumping around like a children's television presenter. A bicycle with triangle block wheels, it was rather hipster meets t-shirt design in 3D. A room with matt white disco balls shrewn over the floor. It was all fun, but without explanation some of it was lost, either that or there was no message in the first place. The show runs until the 15 May 2011, definitely worth a pit stop. We certainly felt cultural sat in the park post viewing boozing away.

from Spain with Love

2011-04-27T08:08:00.000+01:00

With La Mirada Spanish Film Festival at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image this Easter I am fully covered for bouts of boredom or potential bad weather. I can witness the dramatically bleak uber realism of Spanish cinema unfold surrounded by fellow enthusiasts.

Obviously not all Spanish film falls under such bleak terms, however the genre (if you can forgive me for grouping vast Spanish speaking nations under one bushel) has a tendency to lean towards certain darker deeper accents which are skilfully and unmistakeably Spanish, watch Amores Peros for an inkling of where I'm headed.

Gael García Bernal in Amores Perros, he also starred alongside Maribel Verdú in Y tu mamá también.

The festival is co-programmed by Pedro Almodóvar, screenwriter, producer and director of numerous Spanish language films including (one of my favourites) Bad Education, High Heels, Women on the Verge of Nervous Breakdown and more recently Volver and Broken Embraces. His life is an inspiring path, born to family of modest means in a small farming town in backwater Spain, sent to a boarding convent school by his family with hopes of becoming a priest. He defied his parents’ wishes following his own path to Madrid where he worked as an administration assistant for Telefonica for 12 years, before going on to become a hugely respected director. Proof that you don't have to follow timetabled rules of development in order to reach your goal, something I remind myself of daily.

________

My computer wiped away the rest of the piece which contained my picks of the festival including Lucky Star (La Buena Estrella) a film about a butcher who accidently castrates himself and becomes entwined with a one eyed prostitute and her abusive boyfriend. Babies ensue and the plot becomes even more tangled with boyfriend in prison. The female lead is played Maribel Verdú of Y tu mamá también (another excellent film); definitely worth downloading if you can find it.

Lucky Star, 1997

__________

It is now post festival, post Easter weekend and it's been a blast. Lots of parties and messy nights out, I managed to make it to the Directors choice - a surprise film - currated by Ang Lee of Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Sense and Sensibility, Brokeback Mountain. We were treated to the 1977 surrealist movie, That Obscure Object of Desire, directed by Luis Buñuel, which flits between Spanish and French language, actress and setting.

The female protagonist Conchita originally given to Maria Schneider (Last Tango in Paris) is played by two women, Carole Bouquet (French Bond Girl) and Angela Molina (Spanish household name). The actresses change unpredictably creating an extra dimension in the characterisation of the role. It explores the cat and mouse dynamic within a relationship, magnifying the intensity of power of the chase, the mere suggestion of possibility is enough to keep Mathieu (Fernando Rey’s) ego encased.

Incidently there is also another Spanish Film festival in May...

14th Spanish Film Festival presented by Estrella DAMM
Festival Dates: 12 May, 2011 - 22 May, 2011

Eugene von who?

2011-04-18T07:36:00.005+01:00

I'm in the National Gallery (Ian Potter Centre) suffocated by dreary small talk emitted by the soon to be purple rinse brigade dressed in money, tailoring, chiffon, the odd hat and copious amount of hair spray. I meander through the masses scanning the room for curious characters, my brain processes them as made up words in an otherwise dull text - trustafarians with facial hair and interesting cable knit, multicoloured aunts punctuated by handmade jewellery and the odd mad professor with the ever arousing bow tie or seamed stocking.

With free moonshine and anticipation as my accoutrements I strike up conversation with the security guard, it proves fruitful when he offers me tips on the how to avoid the scrum into the exhibition. I feel slightly self conscious though and head back to the bar, I'm on my fourth glass by the time my friend from 'out of town' arrives, he seems put out by the fact the free bar closes in ten minutes. We feign interest in the speeches as we move crab like into the gift shop, a welcome distraction to the self congratulating, I'm too young to care about the whys and where's I want to see what the fuss is about. Paul dips out for a smoke, I down two more glasses and immediately head to the loo on the third floor, the clapping ends and I hear the scrum approaching. It appears the show has opened right in front of me, second inside, in my fizzy wino state, I congratulate a very mumsy looking first with a high five.

Dashing through the first room as though it were a supermarket sweep, my brain takes drunken snapshots of the wonderful sketches and paintings whizzing past me. I slow down and focus, absorb, absorb, by room two, I'm gazing awe-struck at the sequential images of Cape Woolamai, longing for the outback, a wilderness to surround me, a horse to ride and camp fire to curl up next to. It’s the Australian dream untouched, I pull out my $20 phone and type in my future destinations, it surreptitiously saves a few, I make a drunken vow with myself and anyone in ear shot to venture to Weatherboard falls, Cape Woolamai, and another even greater Cape, my phones functionality (or lack thereof) alluded me at this point. A return visit is on the cards - I want to search out the mystery destination, which may not actually be as it was a hundred years ago, but worth exploring.

Eugene von Guérard works (even in my hazy state) display painstaking craftsmanship and attention to detail, the inflections of light on the New Zealand lakes and orbs radiating from the trees in twilight. An excellent introduction to the beauty of Victoria and beyond, being in Brunswick you forget where you are.

Eugene von Guérard
Nature Revealed
runs until 07 Aug 2011
Ian Potter Centre
Federation Square

Legal Alien

2011-04-15T05:44:00.000+01:00

Since arriving, I have this overwhelming urge to spin around in circles, perhaps the inner notion of restriction creates such a desire. It's as though I want to run as fast as I can, dance as hard and stretchy my body will allow. An internal frustration is trying somehow to find a way out. Perhaps it's loneliness, or the need to find my place in Melbourne, a pub that fits my persona, where there are others, who look like me, dance like me, share the same energy for life, art and craziness as me. In short I feel lost in a city that I believe to have all these things but are just ever so slightly out of reach. I'm an outsider, someone out of 'the loop', I have the researcher tool, honed through years of probing the back alleys and basements of London town, but its failing me here. Everything on the surface looks cohesive, yet when I open my mouth the reactions are different, people operate different codes - rules of interaction. Don't get me wrong I've made progress, but it feels slight - my initial projection led me to believe I would have it all by now, a dance floor, a packed bar, a phone ringing with offers of night time adventures. I was to be riding off into the darkened sky with a crew of bicycle bandits by my side; upon reflection a tough call, internally uncompromising to a fault. But I've seen them, they do exist, the others, on trams, walking the streets, coming out of cinema Nova, happily talking amongst themselves. When I was little is was so much easier - singing, skipping around the play ground, joining hands until there was a big enough gang to play, not anymore. Approaching folk in the street, no matter how 'in tune' they appear is almost laughable, they would think of me as being quite mad. Even when making new friends there is and invisible line between an attractive interest in hanging out and a misjudged enthusiasm that makes one appear needy or uncool. Hide your cards, don't appear too desperate, play it cool, all these glaringly moronic phrases jump into my head whenever I venture into uncharted waters, creating an barrier of uncertainty before I even begin. I miss easy boozy Sundays down Columbia Road, Royal Oak, The Dove, Spurstow Arms, nights dancing at Vogue Fabrics, Alibi, even sweaty Video Visions. So for now I'll forge on alone with my House of Elliott DVD box set and wait for the time to pass.

Free Ai Weiwei

2011-04-14T07:40:00.000+01:00

The world is not as it should be, Ai Weiwei has been detained at Beijing airport for being a suspected criminal sic. 'outspoken government critic', his family and studio staff have also received similar 'controls'. This is a far leap from his involvement in the design of the Bird's Nest Stadium for the 2008 Olympic Bird's Nest Stadium.

The artist was ranked 13 in the top 100 most powerful artists by Art Review last year. It's saddening to hear of such injustices happening in China, anywhere for that matter. It's important that everyone is given the same freedoms around the world.

I urge you to write a letter to the Chinese ambassador, here's one we made earlier....

Dear Ambassador Liu,

I am writing to urge you to do everything within your power to guarantee the immediate and unconditional release of Ai Weiwei and others arbitrarily detained in China since late February, unless the Chinese authorities can show reasonable grounds for suspecting them of having committed an internationally recognisable criminal offence. While they remain in custody, the authorities must ensure they have access to their family, legal representation of their choice and any medical care they may require. The authorities must guarantee they will not be tortured or otherwise ill-treated.

I am deeply concerned that since an anonymous online call on 17 February to stage a ‘Jasmine Revolution’ in China more than a hundred activists, many of them active on Twitter and blogs, have been detained, put under surveillance or illegal house arrest, or have simply gone missing. Moreover, at least a dozen lawyers say they have been briefly detained and pressured by the authorities not to take up cases defending those detained, and even told by police to stop tweeting about detained people.

The Chinese authorities must end their repression of calls for peaceful political reform and instead listen to its own people. I am urging the Chinese authorities to take effective measures to guarantee freedom of expression, association and assembly in line with China’s Constitution and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights which China has signed and declared an intention to ratify.

Copy and paste the letter into an email and send it to press@chinese-embassy.org.uk

We are no longer in the dark, the internet has allowed those in need and wanting change to speak out, I plan to listen and be counted.

I wish you well Ai Weiwei and I hope that you are released in time for the unveiling of your Pulitzer Fountain work in New York.

=Youtube video to follow once home - here is the link for now.

From Corsodyl with Love

2011-04-13T15:15:00.002+01:00

Something Melbourne doesn't have to offer (aside late night alternative dancing spots in dingy basement clubs and community halls) is Corsodyl. Two days before I travelled to China I found myself strapped (maybe just held down) to a chair just of Kingsland Road, Dalston. As I lay victim, my Greek dentist hacked at the offending bits of bone with a chisel, mercilessly scraping clean the plaque clogging up my mouth and in the process a good chunk of my enamel. I attribute the final flurry of mouth fur to the weekend spent raving in a field in Hackney - the precursor to gum disease. I'd been out for three days straight and found myself in a neurosurgeons bathroom on Sunday afternoon finger brushing, too little, too late. Since that painful episode I have vowed to take proper care of my teeth. Yet this promise hasn't been an easy one, I'm a little lazy by all accounts, perhaps down to poor habits as a child or simply that brushing teeth is dull/forgetful. I've taken to combining the activity weeing or showering. A product I have grown a particular fondness to is Corsodyl. It's like bleaching, for your mouth, a chemical process that somehow feels synthetic yet strangely fulfilling. At first when it was prescribed to me I hated it, the staining and the intense aftertaste, felt unfamiliar and polluting. Over time (and with the impending fear of plaque attack) it has become an itch I must scratch, typically it’s not available in this country. However there is an alternative, Sanocol, same chemical, different taste/sensation entirely. Unhappy with its poorer brother I receive bottles of mouthwash (upon my request) as presents from trips abroad, "err do you really want mouthwash Martina? Yes, please!"

My newest member, fresh from Dubai courtesy of Toro. Next the old bottle available in the UK.

Tribe leader: Zepherin Saint

2011-04-06T12:49:00.000+01:00

Here's a biography/interview, I've just completed...

Zepherin Saint, enigmatic producer, DJ, talent scout and co-founder of Tribe records, sits opposite composed and alert. Unabashed he smoothes over my interrogation with an effervescent charm, that softens my line of questioning. Mastery acquired via two decades of flexing vinyl in the eighties London warehouse scene, and lighting up the dance floor for Michael Jackson et al. This tribe chief treads a tight rope between elusive party chameleon and all-around-nice-guy, nom de guerre ‘dream big brother’. His prominence as venerate artist is a far leap from the thirteen year old Cinderfella, who would enthusiastically pack rigging into the back of van for parties he was too young to attend. That was 1983, when folk transformed their homes into clubs, with a subsequent door tax - to cover breakages. Musical education was a diet administered daily; from funk bands (Parliament, Slave) to UK jazz funk, with soul, lovers rock and country (thanks mum and dad) melted into the pot. 1987 came to fruition with the debut release of Give me back your love feat. Carol Leeming, under the pseudonym Boyz in Shock on Jack Trax, regarded as one of the first British garage tracks.

In the years which have elapsed Saint has toured extensively, discovering an infinite appreciation of his music and the genre in general, in the most unexpected of places; Beirut, Syria, Egypt. Feeding into an obsessive love of soul music, Saint has devoted himself to discovering and nurturing new strains from around the globe. Producing a unique blend of afro house, referencing primary roots into a myriad of hypnotic layers, the sound is deep and intoxicating. Saint has attained the optimum position to convey Tribe’s message of One Sound, One People to the masses. Herewith we discuss the man behind that message.

Martina Randles: When did you get your first break?
Zepherin Saint: I finished school and joined a YTS (Youth Training Scheme) and it just so happened that the telephone company apprenticeship was based next to a record label and recording studio that I was devoted to, I followed all their releases, Jack Trax, it was like, the first house UK label. During my lunch breaks I used to go there and hang out. The scene was taking off at the time in London, it was 1987, eventually I gave them a demo and they signed my track, I was 17. We got our dj'ing break at Spectrum in Leicester; I was shocked to find that the house scene had been going strong for a couple of years. It was like a youth centre and they were (jacking) throwing each other high in the air, it was when those sayings 'how high can you jack' actually meant something. The midlands of England captured the essence of House music before London and that was a real eye opener.

Martina Randles: You worked at Blackmarket Records for 8 years; would you refer this time as a rite of passage?
Zepherin Saint: Blackmarket records started in 1988 as a pioneering shop for house music. I was 19 working behind the counter, meeting everyone that came through the door - Frankie Knuckles, Tony Humphries, David Morales. I didn’t go to university; this was my schooling, being able to choose records for all the big DJs around the world. Watching what they felt in a record, the records they picked - what they wanted, what they didn't want. It’s interesting the people that worked behind the counter during that period are like a who's who within the UK industry.

Martina Randles: How long have you been producing music?
Zepherin Saint: Over 20 years; although I actually stopped making music for five years, I was more focused on developing and managing talent through my company Xosa music, then a techno DJ – Jeff Mills put out a compilation of all time choice cuts and he put my very first record on there (Boyz in Shock feat Carol Leeming Give me back your love - Jack Trax), and I was like bloody hell, that’s kinda major, he's a huge DJ globally. Everything suddenly came flooding back to me; why I started music in the first place. I remembered myself at my mum's piano writing that song, I just felt I had to get back in the studio which I already had in the basement of my house just sitting there, dormant. I connected everything back up and thought what I am going to do, let’s just try something…; that was back in 2007.

Martina Randles: How important is construction and authenticity in your music?
Zepherin Saint: I listen to a lot of world music; I make it as well, music with different tempos, different time signatures using more traditional instruments. I use a mixture of synthetic sounds set to traditional rhythms, and live samples performed by musicians from around the world and myself of course. I have a soft spot for Middle Eastern and Afro Cuban percussion. It's exciting to go to another part of the world and experience a new instrument - a Middle Eastern Bozuk, a West African Kora. There is a wonderful sounding Sim Simear, from Saudi Arabia, its primitive looking with four strings; the amount of chords I get from it is unbelievable.

Martina Randles: Where has your music taken you; that you might not have otherwise gone?
Zepherin Saint: I go to Beirut quite a bit to record music and there is a military presence everywhere, it’s a bit surreal, yet very warm and welcoming. Syria was a place I never thought I would go, and I found amazing talent there in musicians and singers.

Martina Randles: As well as being involved in the House music scene you’ve also rubbed shoulders with the likes of Michael Jackson and worked with R Kelly. What do you remember most about these experiences?
Zepherin Saint: R Kelly was very nocturnal, we couldn't go into the studio until after midnight because that’s when he starts his day, he's very talented; it was great working with him. Meeting MJ was bizarre indeed, I was booked for a private party in Bahrain - the special guest was kept a secret. I saw a familiar silhouette but could not place it. He came right up to the booth and stood there for most of the night, dancing with his hand on the speaker. It was a very special moment for me, playing, Don’t stop until you get enough, whilst he danced was probably the highlight of my career.

Martina Randles: Tell me about the birth of Tribe records?
Zepherin Saint: Tribe started in March 2009. At the time I felt labels were focused on quantity and little to do with quality - this was linked to the change from vinyl to digital I expect and labels used this as an opportunity to release more material. There was a gap in the market, and my partner Matt Langrish-Smith and I set about building Tribe together. The first release was a track I had produced for Nathan Adams called Circles. It set the tone and standard for the label and gave us the right step to get noticed.

It’s actually gone beyond my expectations, it never started with a huge plan, we just wanted to get good music out from around the world; the people have embraced us. We are currently on our 20th release of singles and have also released 2 albums with many more to come.

Martina Randles: Spawned from the Tribe label the eponymous parties have become an international success, was this natural progression in the development of the brand?
Zepherin Saint: As a label you got to have more than one avenue as a company and doing events goes hand in hand with what we are all about. Our international presence is continually growing we’re already in London, Paris, Toronto, Miami and Amsterdam. 'Tribe Live' has been really well received and we are definitely planning to do more live events in the near future. The Tribe 2nd anniversary at WMC for me was simply magical. The event has become a reunion for us where we meet old and new friends from around the globe. The expression of all these different energies in one place is a highlight and opening for our year.

Martina Randles: What’s in store for 2011?
Zepherin Saint: I have two albums for completion - Nathan Adams, a world music album both due out this year and there are also plans for Tribe compilations. I recently played in Sydney and Melbourne - the love for deep house music in Australia is incredibly strong so we are making efforts to feed this part of the world more with our style. Our mission is to get to pockets of the world that does not get enough of our music in its club scene and continue to spread the Tribe vibe….. One Sound, One People.

Last Train Home

2011-03-28T14:06:00.001+01:00

This morning I sat at my desk full of glow, a rare Monday; the sun is shining on the 29th floor, my weekend was a good one, Melbourne and I have turned a corner. Happily obscured from view I swot up on the goings on in the motherland. Dramatic headlines, doom and gloom, the protests, the riots, cuts, no public toilets, libraries and lost funding for domestic violence centres, psychiatric counselling, halfway houses for the homeless, people in need, forgotten. The land I have come from appears to have regressed somewhat, cutting crucial support, the cogs that keep society functioning. Where was the tax on banks, the tax on bonuses, and cuts in senior government? An internal tug of guilt washes over me, those left to struggle on in my absence, aging grandparents, aunties in the public sector - NHS and education, uncle whose job is now on the line, the effects are immediate, delivered from a far like a tomahawk heading to Libya.

I remain empathetic yet cheery as I head to (cinema) Nova for my regular Monday night date for one, a rewardingly comfortable arrangement. Last Train Home is a Chinese documentary centred around the mass migration of 200 million Chinese migrants - in most part of Chinese origin travelling back home to the (usually very) poor countryside in a distant province. I was engaged and humbled by the main plot which charts a family struggling to exist, grandmother raising her grandchildren, whilst the parents send money home. The characters clash under the pressure, with the parents vehemently expressing the life path of education upon there children. The daughter buckles and rebels. The scenes switch between factory, transport and countryside offering a unique, if somewhat bleak gaze into the life of the Chinese working classes. The documentary directed by Lixin Fan was filmed up until 2008 with the inclusion of the Chinese olympics. Comic relief is provided by the youngest member of the family the younger brother, whose witty remarks provide a much needed lightness. A poignant moment occurs on a sleeper train not dissimilar to one I have travelled on during my Chinese adventures. There are about five people cosied up on a bunk and they are discussing the financial practices of foreigners. I cast my mind back to how kind and inquisitive the Chinese were to me during my long train rides alone. The world is no longer a separate place we will are to become increasingly interconnected as global dependency evolves. It is important we see the different sides if not to agree then to understand and appreciate. This documentary certainly bought home questions as to the evolution/exploitation of China, and how far the country has yet to travel.

Sydney Road Street Party

2011-03-20T04:59:00.001Z

Sydney Road festival clears the streets of cars and trams and offers the community a chance to wander around freely on the otherwise congested artery road that leads into the city. With a wide variety of music on offer from rock'n'roll, folk, hip hop, beat boxing, reggae, soca to 30s swing. The vibe was friendly, with a multicultural and inclusive flavour, lingering at each stage, cafe, sound system I happily soaked up the atmosphere, people watching can be so much fun.

Posthumous consideration of China, part one - getting lost amongst a sea of service points

2011-02-22T23:56:00.004Z

China has the largest population in the world and the fastest growing economy, when the prospect of traveling to China first entered my head I was fearful, almost put off. Yet in my 30th year I had faced no challenges, and had failed to mark the event in any way. This was to be my marathon, my big party, and an acknowledgement to myself that I had reached womanhood. In fact my 30th birthday was such a flop that had I failed to make a go of China, lost all my luggage, been robbed and come home I doubt I would have come close to how I felt on that fateful day. In fact China on the contrary scarcely proved any of my preconceptions, it was much safer than London, even as a tourist. The scams were much more subtle, the tea house ploy, where 'language students' invited you for (ridiculously) overpriced tea in order to become better acquainted with the cultures and accents of our gracious land, only to present you with a rather large bill. Fortunately this scam was only played out in certain hotspots and aimed at the more masculine of the species, one with a penchant for cute Chinese girls, of which there were many. I did however get accosted fresh from the metro station - looking every bit the tired vulnerable tourist, it was when I was asking a guard for directions - two women with quick tongues became rather interested as to where I was headed and wanted to show me where to go. There friendliness baffled me, as it didn't tally with their hardened faces, it wasn't my prejudice but my natural instincts operating effectively. I declined and pressed on, yet still they followed me up the road maintaining their faux friendly manner, proof that they wanted something from me. That was Beijing, in a large population, there will always be an element of people who will try and make money from deception. Two separate guests at the hostel (both male) became victim of the same tea (or one case coffee) plot during my stay.

China on the whole is extremely safe, especially when it comes to theft, no one likely to mug you, although there was a glut of pick pockets in Xi'an. The culture lends itself more to trickery and entrepreneurialism as a means of income, which is fine by me. Service points are useful on occasion, although have a tendency to be overpriced. Arriving fresh off a sleeper train in Leijiang I encountered a sea of 'entreprenuers' all offering the same service at varying prices and language barriers, which was intimidating. Especially when you're the only 'white face' and there are 60 of them, it's 5am and still pitch black, I’m desperate need of a pee, so I carry on walking, straight past the vultures wanting to make bread and look for a different service. A bus perhaps, but there is no station guard and barely anyone speaks English. I have just been to the loo with my backpack still attached, there is no safe place to leave it and the floor is disgusting, struggling to get my jeans back on I realise half the liquid didn't make it into the hole in the ground.

Wanting to get out of here I search for the meanest guy who looks like he may have stepped foot out of the province, and ask him the necessary information. Shocked by my attempts to converse, he delivers his response without hesitation. I’m on the bus, and haven't a clue where I’m going, when to get off, what to look for, who to ask. I merely pull open the book and point with a tired smile to anyone that will entertain. Someone tells me to get off, unsure whether it's a ploy to get you into their brother's bakery for buns, I hesitate, a relaxed hesitation mind, I’m waiting to gauge reaction - the bus grinds to a halt and everyone is waiting for me to exit. I’m now wandering the streets asking school children for directions; there English tends to be more advanced than the average adult. They seem bewildered by my presence and offer a finger, mostly aimed in different directions, it appears they do not know, but want to save face. It is a given that Chinese people out of politeness will offer a solution/answer even when they have none to give. So I found myself wandering round aimlessly 'like the great economy rocket of China, not knowing where I was going'. I came upon a hotel, which was open, eventually the hostel I staying at, sent someone to come and collect me, I was about twelve minutes away, not bad considering. The hostel is a Naxi house near the foot of the Himalayas, I want to sleep and shower, but its daytime and it's too cold/early to face showering outside. I don't change. I eat fruit and head off into the mountains, stepping back in time to a small village where I meet Dr Ho, a famous Chinese herbalist and a wonderful man, warm and welcoming, although less enthusiastic to my Japanese companions. I watch the cows being herded down the street, gaze up at the snow-capped mountains and drink baiju with the local men, they stare at us eating rice noodles. I feel privileged to be at this very point in time and wonder how long this place will remain as it is.

from Brunswick with love...

2011-02-18T04:14:00.003Z

Yes I'm back, two months m.i.a, I've missed you guys, after my six week tour of China and a three week settling in period, I am warming to the idea of documenting Melbourne life.

Terrible internet (dongle? Don't ever get one, waste of time) was the main protagonist for my Australian absence, that and my wallowing (ever-so-slightly) from fear of having something useful to write. Yet all is well in sunny Melbourne - modest 27 degrees today. I was up until late last night constructing a rather grandiose return to the web, a sprawling synopsis of my adventures in China. Halfway into the piece I became so overwhelmed by the task I panicked and froze. Perhaps a more lighter palatable return is best, baby steps, bit of reading - Fear of Flying, Two Novels of Mexico & Wild Swans - remind myself how to spell, get into the routine. So forgive me if my contributions fall to the fluffier, lighter side of the track, I am merely reminding myself of the process.

This is my new home I share it with two Australian men, here I can explore the nuances in the species, how/if they differ from the English variety. There are two hot next door neighbours, on first encounter one appeared in a fetching pair of short shorts (that was it), I like Melbourne.

Despite all my efforts I have failed to secure a job as yet perhaps my interview on Monday will prove fruitful. I have however received press accreditation for Golden Plains (Meredith) this year, I heart Australia.

My clothes finally arrive on Tuesday after six weeks of living out of backpack full of winter clothes I shall finally be free to wear flimsy summer garments. Fortunately 40 degrees with a great selection of jumpers has lead me to actively dispel the internal myth that anything fashionable vintage wise is hard to come by. With an excellent charity shop next door, clothes being left in piles on the street and garage sales appearing weekly I have been fastidiously stockpiling awaiting the right pair of shoes or cycling shorts to complete the look. I love Brunswick.

Grimefest in Hong Kong - sleep no.1

2010-12-09T05:07:00.000Z

I arrived on Nathan Road Monday morning it’s 9am and Chung King Mansions is a blackest tooth on the strip. It’s fairly quiet yet there is still a hoard of ethic men, both disapproving and objectifying in their lingering glances.

After a sleep I head out to dinner at a Tiffany’s place it’s late night before I return, yet before arriving at the relative safety (save a little insect-y) of my tiny room I must run the gauntlet The men like the insects have multiplied an overwhelming number of African, Indian, Eastern, Asian men who make up the occupants of this crumbling dirty block are out, its peak time and there is not another single (or otherwise) female in sight. I stroll up with my white legs on display looking every bit the obvious tourist complete with passport, camera, wad of cash - I’m surrounded by fifteen dodgy looking men. The queue for the lift lasts a lifetime; I feel eyes on me from all directions. The elderly lift arrives, we squash in and it buckles under the weight, the full lift light flashes scornfully, a man with a bowl of pilau rice grunts and departs the cubicle. The CCTV is broken, there is no video evidence to protect me, and the eyes of the fellow passengers are aimed below my face directly at my chest. 2nd floor, 4th floor, 6th floor - I get out, disorientated I head off in the wrong direction, wait for the doors to close, perform a quick u-turn and I’m in my guest house, well not my guest house, I booked under a different name, yet this was the one I was allocated, like the BA and Quantas code share there was no choice as to where I ended up.

I have woken to drilling; constant and yet varying in pressure, a multitude of vibrations (reportedly this was the quiet block). 4,000 people live in Chung King it is a total dump. Justifiably down there with the cheapest accommodation in Kowloon.

I head off with three objectives (all consumer based – we are in Hong Kong after all) – new camera, battery for my laptop and a mobile phone for China. My challenge serves as a reminder of my foreign status, nothing is simple nothing is quick. I wander with purpose to several stores, yet soon my energy wanes, a wild goose chase through a dense metropolis of neon and hawkers, “you want tailor miss?” “Copy Rolex lady?” “Hostel lady?” My tasks lead me into a hidden building, armed with the address of a laptop repair centre I find myself on the 11th floor of yet another dodgy eastern looking building. Ahead are two open doors with pink lights glowing, outside lingers a man confused and embarrassed by my presence, he is on the phone, I move closer to the doorway, inside a series of rooms, more pink lights, I think I’m in the wrong place. Excited by my find and disappointed with my lack of camera I leave with a smirk on my face (so that’s why that old man started talking in Chinese at me when I headed out of the lift). My buying trip isn’t going well, I try to barter with the mobile phone street sellers but they seem pretty moody. Disheartened by time running away I wander down a side street into my fourth camera store, on display an array of lens options - Hassleblad, Leica, Cannon fill the room. I feel reassured by the content and consult my authorised dealer list provided to me at Cannon showroom earlier, bingo! It’s the real deal! I exit 10 minutes later financially and emotionally lighter, yet with the weight of a G12 dangling round my neck. The ‘nice man at the camera store’ also tells me where I need to go next – a further 10 minutes later I am back on Nathan Road with the coveted laptop battery in my backpack. Seizing the wave of contentment I sack off the mobile phone purchase and head off to the star ferry with sight seeing on the agenda.

my first shot of the harbour, I already heart my precious picture taking device

Basically

2010-11-25T00:38:00.001Z

The chaos has well and truly descended on my world, in a vain attempt to maintain order I have a pile for each category - traveling, charity, storage and shipping, this becomes confusing. Having to make decisions on sentimental items, clothing that I may or may not yearn for at a later date, fully aware that I will be kicking myself for the items eagerly sought and shed with haste. The bigger omnipresent mind engulfing sentiment is the unknown - what am I doing? why am I leaving my home behind, my world is good my head spinning with all the possible scenarios that await me down under. I guess I should be excited and I am, if only I could complete the packing then my life might feel a little clearer. Here is my room, perhaps a reflection of my current head space.

On the plus side I have spent the evening drinking red wine with a Melbourne/London friend talking through the finer points of life downunderover.

Back from the brink

2010-11-17T17:41:00.001Z
Sorry for falling off the radar I have been momentarily out of action *(sickness related)./ But have no fear I'm back! This evening there are two openings of interest to report on...

My friend Vikrum who looks after the Apiary Studios on Hackney Road is hosting an exhibition entitled 'Come meet the strangers' a collection of works, live performance and installation by photographer Iulia Filipovscaia who explores the interplay between different mediums as a reflection of our increasingly technological based reality. With live photography, screenings and new developments in her 'o' project, the evening appears intriguing.

Iulia's images are from past works

39-39 open there doors this evening a fun shop with a concept store ethos, located 2-4 Old Street. The 'made in the uk' leather gloves featured on their blog look great. And I’m pleased to report I've made it onto their site in the style pages, good choice my friend. Must make sure I don't wear the same outfit tonight. With Gareth Pugh behind the decks there is sure to be some dancing involved.

Horsing around

2010-11-11T16:09:00.000Z

I like to escape the bubble of east London as much as possible; it is good for the soul. Country air blows perspective into life and makes all the inconsequential matters appear less visible. Ever since I missed the opportunity of the play scheme trip to go horse riding aged 10, I have been trying to make it up to myself. I long to be able to ride well, a heroine in a fantasy masterpiece, mounting my stead with assured dexterity before galloping off a impressive pace to save those in peril. Perhaps a symptom my dreams have been punctuated by horse based adventures of late. I was delighted to be invited to Coggeshall or Coggashael (as referred to in the Doomsday book), with Emma, to visit her family. The town, a Roman settlement dating from 31BC, is founded on ancient lay lines. It has three pubs, two local food stores and a dog shit alley, no town is complete without a dog shit alley. This particular alley connects the Woolpack pub (home of rowdy locals dancing on the bar to karaoke) to Emma's house, convenient when staggering home in the dark. Post staggering I woke early with excitement today was the day horsey and I would become one. It didn’t go quite to plan, my horse sensing my inability decided to play up a little, I was so happy to be straddled to the horse it could have bucked me and I wouldn’t have minded. The lesson began and my thighs and balance simultaneously sprung into action, I desperately wanted to acquire as much skill as soon as humanly possible. I’ve been on horses before, however it wasn’t quite the same; trekking horses follow the same route most days and require little direction. I had to lead the horse, cajoling into submission whilst I bounced purposely in rhythm. It was wonderful I wanted more; posthumously I was glad I didn’t. For three days post ride I took a john Wayne stance as my inner thighs recovered from such a feat, even an hour and a half walk home from work did little to ease the ache. Now the recovery is complete I look to the future with relish as the prospect of my next dalliance looms closer.

Foal and I chewing the fat, out of the 68 horses at Raine Riding School I think he liked me the most.

The Chapel Inn, 16th Century, the heart of town, this is where all the action occurs.

The conservative club, I didn't stumble accross a labour club.. nice building, shame about the contents.
I want to live in a house like this
T
The halloween weather lingers as the night draws in a truly mystical experience

From Deptford With Love, Bearspace Gallery.

2010-11-05T16:42:00.001Z

Before the expansion of the east London line Deptford market and the delights of New Cross seemed slightly unobtainable - a tiresome trek negatively imbalanced. Yet on a rainy Friday Sarah and I decided to investigate. To our delight the overground remained pristine and speedy, upon arrival the grey skies applauded us with a light sideways shower. Seeking refuge in a cute train cabin cafe with inventive vegetarian dishes; where we debated the finer points in life. We stumbled upon a slightly grubby and charmingly random shop with an eccentric occupied by an eccentric save cantankerous attendant. On offer were a random array of foodstuffs and toiletries. I went for glass jarred items only, once I was sure they were in date and left pleased with my cut price larder.

On the main strip is the rather wonderful Bearspace gallery (once an old pub), inside, a considered selection of art fastidiously arranged for the maximum space/impact ratio. The invigilator’s dog (a cute shaggy yappy type puppy) merrily sought us out as playmates, helping himself to my belongings, including my wet brolly comfortably locked in his jaw, dragging them across the floor, stopping only to chew the freshly painted plinth. God I wish I were that dog.

We never quite made it to Deptford market as it was practically closed by the time we hauled our slovenly arses down there. Instead we scratched the surface of the notable art scene; home to Goldsmiths the area is brimming with galleries, as the rain did its worst we ran for the cover of the tube. Check out the Deptford Art Map for prompts on where to go.

New speak or recycled ideas? Saatchi Art Now...

2010-11-03T18:29:00.000Z

We went to the private view for the new exhibition: Newspeak: British Art Now (part two) at the Saatchi Gallery, it was engaging, well some of it. Other works failed to grab my attention or if they did it was for the wrong reasons, obviously topical pieces, which seemed somewhat out of date, sensationalist art that had simply lost its effect due to overexposure. The venue is huge, three floors with an excellent, well stocked shop. There was however enough to make it worth the traipse from north east to south west, here are my highlights (I had half an hour, two glasses of wine and a tour guide for the adventure).

Tessa Farmer, brilliant name, great piece of art, intricately put together, with comical consideration.

Zoniel marvelling

We loved the quality of the painting, old school discipline with a modern subject matter.

Spot the difference

Good sense of depth, the print jumped out at you from across the room

Fairly tried and tested gathering of symbolic artifacts, yet on a massive scale, the piece raised contention as to the skill required to create said art.

Oozing hearts, pierced nipples, spots and all...

2010-11-02T17:28:00.000Z

Eat your own heart out at Maiden was resounding success with people queuing down the road on the opening night and following days, alas its all over now, fingers crossed for next Halloween.

The launch was quite a racous affair with metal band The Defiled opening the shop, they smashed up a massive cake and hacked into a finger with a cleaver.

Oozing hearts by Lilli Vanilli

My pals, Matt and Natalie represent, loving the gifts on offer

The after party was held at Electricity Showrooms, gotta love the light up dance floor, (they filmed common people here, way back when).

Complimentary pre-tox potions (with added vodka) courtesy of Alibi, although unsure as to the effectiveness of the pre-tox, perhaps it was the tequila forced down my throat by Matt tipped me over the edge.

Love this bath boobie massacre sponge by Holly Andrews

Boom Town for Crack Magazine

2010-10-29T12:20:00.000+01:00

Friday night and I’m sat outside Milton Keynes train station, it rains as I watch as festival goers arrive and leave, I pick them out easily amongst the sea of trackies and 90’s emo kids. Concrete and glass surrounds, two and a half hours pass and finally a transit van comes hurtling around into the car park and into the bus lane. My suitcase is thrown in the back; a rum and ginger (heavy on the rum) is thrust in my hand and we’re off.

The festival; Boomtown Fair, the location; a field in the grounds of a classical show house built in the 1600’s, now home to Stowe School and a garden centre. We enter through an impressively long drive and there’s an obelisk in the distance. We’re ushered into park behind the Lion’s Den (reggae tent). In the van behind are Tom and Luke from Wales soon to be our wingmen for the weekend. Already a culture has been established, we trade cider for mushrooms and water for, well, other stuff. It’s a good trade and seals our friendship.

We are led into the night, I adopt the customary Friday night policy of getting totally obliterated sans supper, after my losing my mind in a dance tent post The Wurzels, I spend daybreak dry retching in the woods. Wide-eyed and belly aching we head back into town to explore the realities of daylight; failing to recover the brand new coat gifted to Lucy a day ago, she winces.

You can read more of my write up for Crack magazine by clicking here.

Time for tea, now who would like a vagina cake?

2010-10-28T15:25:00.005+01:00

Deep in the dungeon of Maiden the famed gift shop on Shoreditch High Street,
sits a room full of devilish sweet stuff waiting to be devoured.

Only if you are 18+ can you enter and experience the 666 sugar filled delights on offer.

Be quick though, the pop up store will be gone once the bewitching hour is through (Sunday 31st),
this may be the only chance to purchase the vagina cake of your dreams.

I was down at the venue last night and was blown away by the effort put into the decor, thick red plastic draping, similar to an abattoir, not that I’ve been to an abattoir and metal cages. A lot of love has been put into the shop fit, very excited about the launch this evening; it's going to be a fun party. I shall report back with photographs.

Fright Night!

2010-10-27T17:32:00.001+01:00
Emma and I arrived at Staines train station under a pelting sky, with hailstones raining down on us, laughing we ran for cover. The bus pulls up and the disability ramp isn’t working, we have a celebrity disabled unable to embark, she was on Location, Location apparently (according to Emma), hers was the biggest budget they had to spend 1.5M, she did have a fancy electronic wheelchair so I didn’t question it. Much procrastination, 20 minutes later the expensive and rather heavy wheelchair is lifted on the bus just as another bus arrive and were off. Tickets in hand we sail in, joining the queue jump ticket queue, pole (front) position for Stealth, Nemesis and Saw fast track tickets in hand, we’re off.

Stealth 0-80mph in under 2 seconds

Emma post Stealth

Tidal Wave, we abstained from the water rides, boring I know

Style Spotting

Five rollercoaster’s, four horror mazes, two sneaky push ins, one burger king and half a tub of fizzy sweets later I feel amazing, it’s dark, there are chav’s everywhere, some with fake blood, I feel thirteen. What a wonderful way to spend a Saturday, my insides and neck hurt but it was worth it. On route home we pause by the fruit and vegetable stall at Liverpool Street a vague attempt to undo the neglect we stock up on pears and pomegranates.

Grease - inspiration to many

2010-10-27T17:08:00.000+01:00

The Sunday Air Fair doesn’t run on a Sunday,

located at P3 - the underground aircraft hanger linked to Westminster University - it features the work of 60 artists, from 20 young galleries from around the world. On at the same time as Freize it’s free to get in. I wandered around the vast vertical space absorbing all on offer, mostly quality accessible stuff, although a few were too obscure for my art school learnings. I delighted in the closeness of the works, each gallery bringing something new and fresh, Lemoncello, schleicher+lange, luettgenmeijer, were particularly exciting.

Man at work

With £50 artist made cocktails on offer....................................................

2010-10-26T09:33:00.001+01:00

Make no bones about it late nights at the Tate are busy, but if you can zone out and focus on the work in front out you then it’s worth it. Art in the evening is a treat, beats going to the pub, in fact it fills the time between going home and going to the pub, which is better. We snacked at Wasabi and I tasted my first eel sushi, I don’t like eel, it scares me, the spicy salmon was rather good though.

Fortunately for me my friend had a Tate pass we waltzed to the front of the exhibition, no timed entry. 11 rooms dedicated to one man work, Paul Gauguin’s art reflects his dramatic life, bright colours, dark ladies, nudity and morbid fascination. Controversially ahead of the time, (1850’s to 1900’s) unabashed by preconceived notions of decency. He travelled extensively migrating over Europe with his family, whom he later ditched and his career as a banker to pursue his passion as a painter. This journey took him to distant places, Martinique, Tahiti, yet Gauguin was experienced at such jaunts having lived in Peru as a small boy. These environments play a huge role in the content and style of his work.

Gauguin returned to his homeland spending time in Brittany and Paris where he was inspired to paint idyllic Breton landscapes. Gauguin was reportedly involved in an argument, which leads to Van Gogh visiting a prostitute and famously chopping his ear off. A large exhibition, with an engaging back story, the appendices that contextualise Gauguin’s work are particularly strong. Photographs of exotic women barely clothed, diaries, maps charting his mammoth journeys and his research, sketches, which showed the development of an image into a million pound painting. He was known for his alcoholism, bouts of depression and fixation with the native women. Gauguin died penniless, syphilis ridden on route to prison, far away from his family.

Craig Lawrence 4 Machine A

2010-10-25T18:19:00.000+01:00

It's about time Craig Lawrence launched a capsule range, it gives us mere mortals a possibility of owning one of his designs. However at £600 a pop I sense it will be a while before I can stretch to something.

CRop top and knitted trousers

Please Topshop, H&M, some forward thinking but not to expensive store, take note and sign him up for a collaboration, it makes perfect sense. For the time being I will just have to content myself with attending the launch of Craig Lawrence for Machine A. The shop is located on Berwick Street, Oxford Street end and showcases the work of edgy designers. It was very serious with lots of tall women in black with black lipstick, save the VIP window that is, which had a hot dancing boy and a drag queen providing entertainment.

The delightful Zaiba Jabbar was there to capture the moment in all it's spirit

Sunflower Seeds at Tate - let the dust settle

2010-10-22T19:02:00.001+01:00

Alas the seeds installation by Chinese artist
Ai Weiwei
make sure you click on the link which takes you through to the wiki page, his life is interesting and should be explored.
is still out of bounds at the Tate for fear of dust inhalation, we did get to hold them in our hands though. It's a shame that's as far as the sunflower seed experience went, they would feel great under my feet, an artistic massage. Each seed was individually painted, I spotted an albino one, which was great, all for diversity. It's a real shame the seeds have proved hazardous, perhaps a solution can be reached, it piece loses it's essence, when you omit the sensory/interactive element.

Ai Wei Wei

2010-10-21T18:34:00.000+01:00
My life has been a little hectic of late, going out Tuesday through to Monday is never a good thing when you're trying to hold down a job and be productive creatively. However that said it's been a good few weeks and the distractions of partying and the new people I've met have been worth it. I was hoping to back date my posts but i've given up playing catch up. instead they can just run as they are, real time and totally out of sync.

Oh and my new boss, he uses lol in emails and wears black polo necks.

Artists impression not actual boss

Birthday Boobies

2010-10-19T22:32:00.001+01:00

Post Makin's opening we went to meet Millie for her birthday, interestingly it was at Brown's, yes the strip joint. Naively I thought that strippers didn't actually strip, like take their panties off until you actually pay them at least £20 for a private dance. Hmm I was wrong, they take everything off and lift their legs and show you everything, oh my. I momentarily felt like a prude. I got to see everything for £1 in a pint glass. Happy Birthday Millie. She looked fabulous in a Craig Lawrence dress. We went to Alibi for boggling on the tables not before witnessing an almighty smash up on the Kingsland Road, dark.

Alas this is the only picture we were allowed to take in Brown's - no photographs

Unsuspecting opening

2010-10-18T12:41:00.001+01:00

The shop opened to a full house with salmon on rye, beer and fizz. A high proportion of the turnout arrived adorned with plants in pots ready to flourish; decoration for the newly painted white interior. Once a kitchen, the space now neatly housed a generous shop floor, complete with changing room (old bathroom space), imginative clothing rails and modest desk, minimal and yet resoundingly chic.

My trailing ivy has found a new home

Mohson and Sam chewing the proverbial phat

Entertainment was provided by Raoul, muse, model and musician, he perfomed tracks featured on the ep which accompanies Makin's look book for this season.

Raoul in action

An evening on Kate

2010-10-15T11:26:00.001+01:00

It began with the arrival of Jessica; she had come to visit on route from Bristol to Berlin. It was wonderful to have her for the night. We ate supper and headed into town first stop the opening of Kate Spade's pop up store on Henrietta Street. The recently vacated language school in the heart of Covent Garden had been lavishly converted to reflect Kate's tastes and style, a kind of home from home. The concept being all the things Kate loves, decked out with retro styling, four poster bed, vintage furniture and picture booth, this was a quality operation. To drink, champagne, Tom Collins and long island iced teas; to eat mini hamburgers, mini pastrami sandwiches and mini rib type things - no vegetarian, fortunately I’d already eaten. We wandered up the white wooden staircase into the upstairs front, where The Like were performing, an LA all girl outfit with looks totally in keeping with the brand. Post performance they wandered around and chatted, the atmosphere was welcoming, relaxed and friendly. I met up with my friend Kyson who had helped with the project, he was on form. V.V.Brown who seems to be doing well in the US, was up next with a dj set. Each room had a different theme to it, handbags were displayed on a feature wall using vintage hooks, jewellery on the first, although slightly obscured by the crowd watching the band, the back room had a chilled vibe to it with folk perched on the bed. I want to come back and have a good rummage around; there was lots of details to discover.

Jessica and Sarah get acquainted

Kyson very kindly rescued us from the toilet queue and took us up four flights of stairs to the top of the wonderful building.

The Like (my picture didn't turn out very well, need to invest in a new camera - again)

Great flooring

VV Brown looking great with her hair down

Kyson styling it

After saying our goodbyes and picking up two friends we headed to the Kate Moross for Firetrap party on Seven Dials just a short albeit cobbled walk away. In complete contrast the party was akin to walking into a rave with Major Lazers blaring out of the speakers, no canapés on offer and true house party style they had run out of mixers - vodka, rum and tequila were on offer. The goodie bags were randomly packed containing watches, knitted arm cuffs and snoods.

I think I'd began to loose momentum photographically at this point, Ophelia and fellow fur hat appreciator... just before we headed out of the door.

It was almost too much after the civilised offering at Kate Spade, we had a few drinks and decided to join up with friends back East ending our night at the Spurstow Arms, turning left out of London Fields Station I discovered a wonderful bakery with three men working fastidiously, I intend to return and buy bread at some point.

Elliot and Stella, "We'll have none of your fashion bullshit here" it's good to have friends that keep you grounded.

Baking boys, the bread looked good.

Love in a different light

2010-10-14T16:58:00.001+01:00
After finding the perfect bum groove post supper Emma began to quiz me, she was pulling together romantic scenes to create a visual backdrop for this week’s Love to Love at The Bathhouse. A fortnightly Friday party which unceremoniously spins the tracks you long to dance to, hosted by the lovely Lucie and pals. The quiz theme was great film romance, the best scenes, kisses, moments - we went through the formats boy meets girl, boy meets boy, girl meets girl, girl meets boy then falls in love with girl. Then we came up with a list of films that featured children as leading characters with an unconventional love theme, top five below...

Paper Moon, 1973, this film is visually stunning with a superb cast and sharply engaging narrative, the actors are father and daughter (Ryan and Tatum O'Neal), which reflects in the strength of performance.

Leon, 1994, needs little explanation, the dress up is a personal favourite scene.

Corrina, Corrina, 1994, Whoopi Goldberg is called in to cure Molly's muteness after her mother dies, this film is cute to the core.

Matilda, Roald was a true genius, creating gruesome characters to scare and excite, Matilda is no exception, the villians are juxtaposed by the delightful Miss Honey, whom Matilda loves.

Curly Sue, Cute film, perfect for a lazy Sunday post lunch

Makin Jan Ma opens London concept store

2010-10-12T16:55:00.001+01:00
Makin Jan Ma makes beautiful, well considered clothing, inspired by his philosophical approach to life. The garments need to be felt and worn to be truly appreciated, every fabric is carefully chosen. I worked for him back in 2008, he would discuss plans to open a store independantly, amazingly, he's done it, congratulations Makin. The opening party takes place this Thursday in store, which is located on Kingsland Road, Shoreditch end - bring a plant and get 15% off for the next year.

2010-10-12T16:55:00.000+01:00