Oct. 14th, 2009 03:15 pm
It's a year since I arrived in Melbourne, hoping I'd never leave. My working holiday visa has expired now, so there's no turning back.

Zombie cam

May. 10th, 2009 09:47 pm
Zombie cam
Just before Melbourne's 2009 Zombie Shuffle.


Apr. 25th, 2009 12:11 am
There were butterflies in his shoes, and snakes coming out of his dictionary. There were butterflies on the ruler too. And the chair? A chair for us to live in. And what's that over there? The Unbuilt Return of Interminateopolis, by Peter Madden.
The Gertrude Contemporary Art Space has another excellent exhibition on - My Own Private Idealogue, with work by Joanna Langford, Peter Madden and Rohan Wealleans. Peter Madden's work was particularly strange and dreamy - cut-outs of snakes, slithering out of a clamped down dictionary; cut-outs of butterflies lining the inside of a pair of shoes; collages with weird things happening everywhere; intricate sculptures with more cut-outs of butterflies, birds and words, and eyeballs and mushrooms, and records, axes, and skeletons, and oh, so many more wonderful images.

I also visited the Lamington Drive Gallery and saw the Desiring Machines exhibition, which had pictures of cars, lawnmowers, etc, with crazy extra engines/mechanical parts, drifting out of them, almost like smoke.
The third gallery I went to was the Dianne Tanzer Gallery, which currently has two exhibitions on. aether by Roh Singh, contained exhibits such as little bubbles that created the image of a 3D jellyfish. Fear of Loathing by Ian Mowbray, was the other exhibition and consisted of snow globes that contained things such as a recently dug grave, and a toilet with a gun next to it.


Apr. 17th, 2009 03:07 pm
I lie in bed at night, awake, and wonder if I should wander around the city instead.
I'm re-reading Microserfs, to help with a project for Douglas Coupland, and last Thursday, I sat in Starbucks, reading the book, and drinking a tall mocha with soya milk, without whipped cream, to escape the rain outside. I realised I could be anywhere right then.

Yes, the caffeine was infiltrating my mind, but it was more Microserfs that was making me think and made me want to blog more. Oh, it always does.

I am (in this LiveJournal post, at least). If my life was a game of Jeopardy! I still wouldn't know, even now, after all this time (14 or so years since I first read Microserfs) what my seven dream categories would be. I'm not sure what that says about me.

A year or two ago, I was a tester- a bug checker, in the UK, and then I studied usability, interaction design, ergonomics, and now I'm on the opposite side of the world.

From the tram window, I saw a man, laughing, and carrying a small black and white rocking horse.

When I first moved to Melbourne, I used to write down the words I saw on the walls, the pavements, the shops, and the pages of random words and phrases in Microserfs, reminded me of this.

I decided to visit an art gallery: the Rosalie Gascoigne exhibition at the NGV. I looked at doll heads, eyes on garden forks, eyes in shells, art made from roadsigns, bits of found wood (weathered, and it made me think of Dungeness somehow).

And then, I headed to the beach. The sky was grey. It was cold and I wore a long black coat and beret. It could have been Montauk. It could have been England. There were windswept lone trees; waves; sand dancing; a red bridge, but also turquoise jellyfish and windsurfers.
Tentacley close up


Mar. 6th, 2009 11:09 am
I'm currently staying at a hostel in Melbourne which not only has croquet, but a tree that has many teabags hanging from it.
Do you ever have dreams that are kind of magical, but kind of post-apocalyptic? Maybe there are things that look organic somehow, like they're growing in your dreams, but when you examine them closely, yes, there are brightly coloured crystals and tree branches, but somehow trash is mixed up there too, bottles, mobile phones, discarded toys, weird things, everything feels different somehow.

Maybe in your dream you climb up a ladder and sit and watch over this strange world, or sit on a stool and watch it through binoculars. Maybe you get to the world by walking through a silver tunnel, that appears to be made from sticks and silver foil and moves in the breeze.

Perhaps you dream you're lying in bed and there is a rock hanging over you, or there is a weird mobile above your head, turning, or perhaps the bed keeps moving while you lie in it. These things happen.

My dreams are mostly ordinary, but this is my reality, this is real, at Melbourne's Australian Centre for Contemporary Art, at the current exhibition, The Water Hole by Gerda Steiner & Jörg Lenzlinger.
Melbourne was a surreal city. The people moved around the streets in jitters, like they were people that weren't quite whole, like there were a few different realities converging in the streets of Melbourne, and on the trains and roads with cars that shimmered in and out of existence. I knew this before I arrived in Melbourne.

(I had wandered into an art gallery in Christchurch, New Zealand and saw videos of Melbourne in the Daniel Crooks: everywhere instantly exhibition, just before I flew to Melbourne. Soon I should actually begin to explore Melbourne and see if it really is like the videos.

Christchurch's art in public places was a little bit stranger.. In the main square existed a giant purple sperm with a bed inside it, and outside the Arts Centre, a petrol engine memorial park, with cars due to die draped in wreaths of dead leaves.)


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