silver linings

 this is a combined effort by me and my nephew who is 5. he loves batman. batman rocks. 

There really are too many things to talk about right now.  Let's start with how I'm so glad I can draw and I have a cute little Batman loving nephew. He used to wear his batman costume EVERY DAY. He draws adorable Batman pictures and its so fun to see them progress as he learns to draw a little better each week. I love this little hybrid of his and my drawing.  He inspires me!

Now let's talk about the day I almost swallowed an insect.  It looked a little something like this.

the stick thing that fell in my gaping mouth.

Things like that seem to happen to me. I'll be laughing, or in this case making mock gasp noises at a baby in a swing.  Funny, how your mouth remains open 80% of the time while interacting with a baby.  Now it's not pleasant to feel the legs of a something wriggling around in your mouth as you try to locate it without chewing or swallowing and spit it out discreetly. Not pleasant at all. But there could be worse things in life and I choose to look at the positive.

There have been many studies to support the power of positive thinking and what helps me is to count my blessings.  And so this blog takes a different turn. I've decided to write about all the silver linings in life.  There is way too much scariness going on in life (see my bed wetting post) so I'm choosing to find the good!

A few weeks ago as I was driving my little black Mazda 323, Boo out of my work car park, I decided to head a different way home. Instead of going straight through the Bennett's Rd lights I turned left - I just wanted to check out this cute little shop on the way.  As I headed up the road, a policeman waved me down so I pulled over.  As I wound down the window, he greeted me and asked for my licence and to complete a random breatho.  I complied with a 'sure!' took, the breathalyser and pulled out my license unbeknownst to me that it had expired the month before. Whoops.  As I sat waiting for my records to be checked I slunk a little lower in my seat as I did recall getting a letter months ago but had put it in my drawer for safe keeping...out of sight, out of mind.  He must have noted my genuine surprise and concern at the cost of the fine.  It seems that when you own up to your misdeeds, a policeman or woman is more likely to treat you with a bit of mercy. I was given a fine, and no demerit points were taken. After a LONG embarrassing wait in for the paperwork to be completed I was sent on my way to renew my license with a kind "hope your day gets better".

Believe it or not, with this yellow fine poking out of my handbag on the passenger seat and the offending license by its side, I couldn't help but be glad.  I could have had a very unreasonable policeman at my window.  I could have not been pulled up so soon after my license expired but months or even a year. I doubt I would have remembered. What would have been my punishment then? Court? It would have looked a little dodgy I'm sure.

 I really could have done without forking out 180 dollars plus the cost of a new license but then again, it could have been worse I knew.  It was then I felt grateful that this happened that surely this was a blessing in disguise. I had a not so subtle reminder that I needed to renew my license.  I couldn't be indignant. I couldn't be mad. I couldn't curse my bad luck for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, because when I think about it...it was the right place at the right time and very good luck. Silver lining noted.

x-files & wetting the bed

A few weeks ago, my housemate had me revisit one of the X-Files episodes that I was most scared of as a kid. All I could think about was all the times I wet the bed because I was too scared to go to the toilet at night.

Even now, the theme music is a cue to get scared. Go on! Listen to it and tell me that you don't feel a little tingle shimmy down your spine!

So picture this. A short, dark haired man with a broad face, who builds lairs using human livers. He can dislocate any part of his body in order to fit into the teeniest tiniest space, and has eyes that light up a luminescent green when hunting his victim.  Cue 3 minutes of X-Files music.

Can you blame a kid for wetting the bed now? Picture a young girl sharing a room with her older sister who needs the bedroom door open in order to let the hall light beam through.  Imagine her horror having to walk down the long hallway past two empty, dark bedrooms sheltering potential killers and creatures. She never looks in those rooms because she fears too greatly what her eyes will meet.  She flicks on the bathroom light and imagines the horrors disappearing with a 'click' and gingerly sits on the cold, cold seat. 

Now, in the time it takes to relieve myself, my feet swinging about the floor I imagine those green, glowing eyes and the clawed hand as it slivers through the toilet pipes and reaches for the glowing crescent moon of my bottom. As soon as I'm done I am up and out, the toilet roaring after me as I stumble through the hallway and back to my bed.  The whole experience was terrible for night time nerves.  One time, I even wore an itchy pink scarf my grandma has made to bed wrapped tightly around my neck in case I was visited by Dracula.

Being a child is so crazy! So many unknowns in life! The monsters, the strangers, the crawly  dark  spaces. Men with bald heads, mean old ladies. Kids just need a little light shed on the situation, just a little kindness. This world's too crazy for that. They don't need The X-Files and Dracula to plague their lives when they're just struggling to learn to tie their shoes!

But when your mad that your kid is still wetting the bed after years of toilet training perhaps ask yourself why that might be. What demons are guarding the bathroom doors for them? 

a love story without love in it

My bestie has a potential new boyfriend (thanks Dolly).  And you know what? I am ok with this.  Even though we have been inseparable for a good while, this is good, he is nice, a little goofy, has amazing muscles.  

So why do I feel so bad?

Let's take this back to the early days.  Why am I single?

In year 4 one of the boys in my class told me I was sexy while we were in line to go sit on the mat.  Oh man.  He said sex-y. How dare he be so vulgar towards me! THWACK! Yes I did swing my arm backwards connecting with his stomach, and yes he did cry.  When our teacher asked me why I hit this boy, I was too ashamed to repeat the sex word, so that day I stood outside the classroom door where the naughty kids stand. That had never happened to me.  The crazy bit was the fact that I actually really liked him.  And so it begins...

My first high school love was a boy named Jay.  He was in the year ahead of me, had long hair and played the drums.  I never spoke to him because I was too embarrassed.  One day I found out he liked me back, but our mutual shyness kept us apart. When another boy who also played the drums liked me (he was actually really cute) I got scared and wouldn't go out with him (this means be his girlfriend).  He was nice and funny and we had a lot of fun together...but no. We went to our formal together at the end of year 10, he wore a cute red jacket but I friend zoned him when I kissed another boy at the after party.  Drummer boy now has a mohawk, tattoos and nice muscles, the 'other' boy is a bit out of shape. Fail. 

Did I set a precedence at the tender age of 8? I guess being religious doesn't help the already struggling dating pool, and don't get me wrong I have had many wonderful men interested. Many marriage proposals in foreign countries and my fair share of unwanted phone calls and texts.  I have had to gently break many hearts and when I say gently, I really mean awkwardly and in a way I can never look them in the eye again.  I am not proud of this.  

My twenties have been nothing of real report despite getting better looking, learning to brush my hair and improving the physique one butt lift at a time. To be honest, the two people I most identify with in my life, is Miranda from the series 'Miranda' and Josie Grossie from 'Never Been Kissed'.   Take Miranda's awkward comments and thinking that a night out is a trip to the IGA for ice cream in the PJs,  Josie's awkward dance moves and blonde hair, and you have me.  It is definitely a skill to be as cool as me around blokes and don't believe what they tell you, it does get worse with age.

So now that the bestie has a new man in her life, and I am looking down the barrel of  almost 30 and forever alone, I contemplate asking them the question:

How do you feel about chaperones?

forever. alone.

zombies

I have been fascinated with zombies since I was 8 or 9 and my brothers brought Return of the Living Dead home from the video store.  I had to hide in the backyard until it was over because the muttering of 'BRAINS' accompanied by screaming would follow me all over the house and I got way too scared. But from then on I read only 90s horror books and vampire teen fiction (LONG before we met Edward Cullen and Bella).  Even now I make a mental note at home on the best escape route just in case the apocalypse does happen.  But let's face it, amongst all that horror, I love a good old corny chick flick too.

So imagine my pleasure when I see a trailer for Warm Bodies.  The living and the dead falling in love- a great combination of horror and romance. WIN.  

my drawing of R
copyrights to me

All R the zombie ever wants to do is connect with people and so the journey begins on 'meeting' Julie (this is nothing you haven't already seen in the trailer ps) as R's 'life' starts to change.  It almost brought a tear to my eye as I thought about it.  That is a fundamental human need- to connect.  Just the other day as I skirted around one of those shopping centre stalls for skin care I saw an old man having his hands exfoliated by one of the sales people as a demo.  I thought to myself, that man does not need an exfoliant.  But as I watched I could see him talking away to her and I realised, he was probably just wanting to talk about himself for a moment...just to connect... and for one minute have someone listen, even if it was to get him to buy a product.  He was probably also lured in by her feminine wiles. But that is a topic for another post. 

But it got me thinking, even the most strange or somewhat vile creature wants to be understood.  And so it is with our zombie friend R.

Now let's talk about zombies.  They are dead.  Their bodies waste away, yet somehow they are animated, they walk, eat, groan.  Such a terrifying concept perhaps- that a person doesn't move on after death but is stuck in their rotting body only to wander the earth and eat brains. Not only do they repulse us physically but they horrify us by their voilent ways.  Zombies are a slave to their appetites, they are mindless and think only of one need. That is to eat flesh and brains. What is more horrifying than not having control over your very own body? To have it waste away while you uncontrollably lust after the things you no longer have.  Your instinct to have this thing is so strong, you no longer have choice nor thought for anything else.  Now that is a nightmare.

The crazy thing is that the zombie apocalypse is probably not as far fetched as one might think and perhaps I am slowly turning into one. How far away is the world really from becoming zombies?  Have you noticed that nobody knows who their neighbours are anymore? That we'd prefer to spend time on our computer than develop real relationships, in fact our relationships are developed through devices, rather than real human contact.  Does anyone actually smile or talk to anyone anymore on the street or in line at the grocery store? 

It's almost like our hearts are coming to a stand still, we stop caring about each other...I would NEVER stop to help someone broken down on the side of the road for fear they'd be a murderer.  We stumble around in our own lives wanting to connect but not knowing how anymore. Are we then dead? Are we slaves to our own whims and wants? Can we think about more than ourselves? Are we slave to social networking, chocolate, TV, alcohol, porn, partying, attention, phone apps, adrenaline rushes? Could that not describe a zombie- when we are compelled to do things by some uncontrollable instinct? Perhaps this is causing us to forget what is to be human.

Just a movie, I know, but perhaps there's something in that, zombies learning to re-connect, remembering what it's like to care... I wonder if I need to monitor my zombie status because although I dress as a zombie EVERY year at Halloween- I never want to be one.

arty farty day

My bestie and I finally made arty farty day happen this weekend.  We literally spent hours making sure we looked arty enough and off we went.  Now don't get me wrong, art is a way of life, but sometimes I have to make a concerted effort to look the part.  Don't tell me you've never embellished your look a little to match a certain outing.

So, education plus today.  Art is so educational! High order thinking is involved right here before your eyes as people search for meaning in visual communication.  I'm told the average person looks at an artwork for 30 seconds or under, decides whether they like it, and is done.  Others will stand for copious amounts of time making up what seems from time to time to be pretentious dribble.  Today I pondered the meaning of life. Put me in category number 2.  GOMA (Gallery of Modern Art) is the bomb diggity and I have broken the sound barrier of thought!

Tromarama, EVERYONE IS EVERYBODY, 2012

Tromarama, EVERYONE IS EVERYBODY, 2012

Let's take a little virtual tour of some of my favourites from today.  Tromarama.  Who doesn't love a stop motion with little singing mouths bringing to life all sorts of inanimate objects? As my bestie and I sat on a vinyl bench and watched, we reflected on humankind and a society of consumers. We live to accumulate stuff.

Tromarama takes you through so many every day objects happily singing away, each item has a little personality and voice. It's funny that so many items are accumulated to make one happy or to project the right image.  Am I hipster, ecclectic, beachy, preppy, new age, conservative, old money...?  It got us thinking about how much we collect and how this projects our personalities, our values, our wealth, taste, our whole identities are wrapped up in what we choose to surround and clothe ourselves in.  It sums up the fortunate and the less fortunate, the tasteful and the tasteless, even our priorities in life.  

Isn't it crazy that a bunch of singing handbags could stimulate a conversation like this?

Raqib Shaw

Raqib Shaw | Paradise Lost 2011–12 

We spent some time staring at Raqib Shaw's series, admiring the detail and scale of the works.  So, so alluring they are, littered with rhinestones and outlined in gold.  Every person in the room was pulled in with the lullaby of sheer beauty, stepping close to examine the detail only to be confronted with blood and violence.  It reminded me of my first experience of Bosch's triptych, Garden of Earthly Delights which seemed to be such a beautiful painting until on close inspection I noticed the disturbing imagery of damned souls trapped in perdition committing ghastly acts, acts to make one blush.  

Shaw's works reminds me a lot of today's world, how there seem to be so many things around that appear so alluring, so appealing yet on closer inspection are insidious.  We buy into what looks like a cool thing to do, t stuff hat will make us happier, more popular...lifestyles, money, material goods, even altering looks.  These are the things that are considered valuable in our society. These are promoted every day, everywhere we turn. Some will sell their soul (Believe me, I have seen it on TV) for the glitter and rhinestones of life but in the end are they as nice as they appear? What happens when the sparkle dims, the gold tarnishes and we get a closer look at the picture?

Nguyen Manh Hung, Vietnam b.1976 | Living together in paradise,2009 

 So much to contemplate- I must admit, we exhausted ourselves quickly as our contributions to the universe were begat, but one of our favourite favourites was Nguyen Manh Hung's piece Living Together in Paradise. It is exactly as the title suggests. A quirky little piece of paradise.  Perfect for staring. Perfect for wondering. Perfect. 

the art of friendship

This is a picture of me and my best friend Kim.  I think she was my best friend at the time, or probably I wanted her to be my best friend.  I was 4 years old when I drew this and of course I am the wavy haired princess wearing a heck of a lot of makeup, sporting a ball gown and I believe that's my nostril- but it very well could be a huge beauty spot.  

 I have had some odd friends in my time.  One of my first school friendships was a girl who had many toys (hooray! I didn't have many new toys being one of five children) and a large appetite, and never flushed the toilet.  I remember one day when she was standing on the edge of our pool when Lulu our dog ran past, and she fell in.  She cried terribly afterwards, sputtering between sobs that the dog pushed her in.  

When I look back, I can see I've had besties to talk about boys with, a different bestie to cater for every need (art, sport, books, movies), besties at different stages of life.  I  could actually go through and pinpoint what parts of my personality can be credited to what friend.

Now, as I am a single lady (put your hands up) I have experienced some important learning curves about relationships, except mine have not been learnt through man relationships, mine have been taught through good female friendships. Hoorah.  Besties are great practice for other significant relationships in life.  A bestie is there to help you grow, to test your patience, to have laugh with, to be cray cray with, and when the time comes, you test those skills out on your boyfriend or husband or children. So thank you besties. You have done well to turn me into the crazy, but well adjusted person I am today.

the art of thought

my brain

Today I printed off my very first t-shirt as a sample to eventually market. I was pretty stoked to see my brain child realised on an actual t-shirt.  I admired it, making my plans to take over the t-shirt design industry, when suddenly a little thought popped into my brain...What the heck are you doing? it asked me, do you really think people will want to pay for these? They are going to see right through your silly drawings you amateur! and as quickly as the confidence in my abilities had been affirmed, it disappeared, running for high hills.

Brains are such amazing things don't you think? They create such wonderful miracles in life, propel great actions, yet, one little doubt can render you quite useless.  This has happened to me in a variety of areas: dating (I morph into "Josie Grosie" when talking to boys), in my job (there are times I wonder 
how I even got my job), and when creating.  Especially when creating!  When I was four I was drawing figures with hands that had five fingers, eyes that had eyelashes and even went as far as to put the cupids bow in a pair of lips.  I was doing things that other kids could not, yet I still allowed doubtful thoughts to keep me from achieving. On year three I started drawing stick figures not again because I never drew them in the first place, but so I was just like the other kids. Even at such a young age I thought I was no good and chose the safe path. That, has never been productive for me. Even now I constantly check my own ability to achieve... Like today. Yet, I know I could be great, at something...

So there comes a time where I tell my brain to quit and stop the self sabotage, to start being a productive brain again, and I think to myself, everyone can do amazing things, so long as they master what is potentially their biggest and sometimes their only enemy...negative thought...

So onwards I go...off to change the world one t-shirt at a time...Hooray!

corn is like art

Corn is like art. I love corn. People can tell which shelf is mine in the pantry simply by looking at the cans of corn stacked in there.  I believe it is ok to eat corn in most things. Salad, bread, pasta, soup, with a roast, with potato, the possibilities go on.  I do not however, believe in corn for dessert.  

Yesterday, while at my Chinese friend's house, I was served a milky substance, along with those fun little pearls you get in asian shakes and tea. Amongst those fun little pearls was little pieces of yellow corn.  I tried to eat this dessert, but it would not agree with my taste buds. There was no party in there, rather, an evacuation call.  My friend meanwhile, slurped his down, satisfied.

This brings me back to my point.  Corn and art.  It really is a matter of taste is it not?  We are accustomed to many things in life, and sometimes that is not corn filled dessert. But is that because of my culture? And I don't just mean country of origin culture but individual family culture too. 

And although corn is cool- some forms are just not that palatable. But present it in a way we are used to or understand it might just be alright.

so it begins

My housemate told me I should write a blog about art. You know, get all that creative thinking out. What does that static TV screen mean? What does that random blob of colour mean?  WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?

Today I admired these shoes. Vincent van Gogh painted them and I wonder. Where have these shoes been? What landscapes have they travelled? Where have they rested after a long days work? They look tired.  It's funny how a pair of worn old shoes can speak volumes and cause one to wonder about its life sheltering tender pink feet from the world as if it had a life.  Do we love the worn ones the best? Or the ones we keep hidden in its shoebox, pristine and new?

 I know. Deep.