Oh! Belgium’s pocket-clock 7 inch launch (ie. without the 7 inches) was at Bus on Sunday. Probably the best performance I’ve seen of theirs. There is something in the way the frequencies of their small drum-kit combine with their clangy, trebly guitar (which in and of itself is a good thing – like Renaldo and the Loaf) which makes their sets seem somehow flat and dischordant. You can see Raquel thumping the toms fast but most of the sound dissipates before you hear it which is unfortunate.
Had a low weekend coming to terms with the rift between my thinking and other people’s perceptions. Disappointed to find that in my present context, presenting failure as a component of an art work will seldom be taken on board (let alone even considered for more than one second). Which makes me just feel like making work which is simple, poetic. But to be honest I’m just really not sure that I am predisposed to it. The poetic, certainly, has precedence over the clever to my mind. But simple? Will my mind ever allow itself to realise something simple? The other thing this makes me want to do is go seek out an artistic community somewhere which is in that part of its cycle where the extension of conceptual boundaries is valuable, and works in a symbiotic relationship with instant gratification. Aside from that, things are chipper.
Next year will be a year of wandering out onto the tips of frail limbs of birch in quivering moonlight, leading me (us) several steps closer to a fully appreciable existence. It is time to begin formulating new years’ resolutions. Swamp-like Optimism, being that upon which nothing more than three stories high may be built, in turn preserving a more beautiful outlook.
Fat, divine smell of imminent rain in the air.
26/11/2004
24/11/2004
Tschuss!
Nouveau-riche Christians working for multi-national corporations.
Intense wastage.
Petty theft, employee complacency.
Welcome to my place of employment. Can I help you?
Intense wastage.
Petty theft, employee complacency.
Welcome to my place of employment. Can I help you?
23/11/2004
A minister's daughter in the North...
Went to see Agents Of Abhorrence again last night, at Bus. They were excellent, way tighter than they were at Soak. Sean was great too. Lyrics of simple genius, like ‘Universe universe, forget it forget it, remind it remind it…’ (NB: The actual lyrics are 'forgetting forgetting, reminding reminding', but still I am fond of my version).
I have to get out of here, place is filling with toxic hydrocarbons.
Hh-eah.
I have encountered an unusually high number of arsehole British tourists today. Giggly consumers 'letting their hair down' in Australia, reinforcing one another's pig-eyed Umweltsichts and refusing to apply their brains.
The lead guitarist of one of the other bands, who I will post a picture of later if it comes out, was encircled by the most incredible array of pedals. He had at least twenty set up. Unfortunately he didn’t seem to produce anything very unusual with this setup. I was reminded that when Damo Suzuki performed in Melbourne he summoned a selection of local musicians to play with him. The pedal-man was one of them, and from my point of view the times when he was playing completely ruined the flow and structure of the music, it wanted to be central and in this way misapprehended the point of the ensemble it seemed.
I have had The Cruel Mother by Shirley Collins intensely in my head for the past two days. The tune has imprinted itself upon me, I can’t stop singing it. But the lyrics are so awful and sad that it makes me feel sick also, to have it swimming around in my head.
Tomorrow marks the completion of work for my last show of the year. The work is a re-instatement of aesthetic constructs which surrounded the 1988 bicentennial ‘celebration’ of the invasion of Australia by colonists. It is to do with the identity spaces where the Nationalist constructs of hope fall short, but which are not completely subsumed by personal ideas of identity. The product of the assimilation of national identity constructs by personal/unconscious identity constructs. The consideration of how premeditated cultural events exist after time, when they loose the gelid anaesthetic of the current context. My inability to translate these ideas for other people’s brains at this point is a matter of course. I seem always to have a period shortly before the completion of a piece of work when I have trouble articulating the work’s meaning. Perhaps the ideas are too bound to the visual objects, or perhaps I have to disengage from the ideas at some point so that I can actually reach a point where the work is 'finished'. Early on it is not a problem, and it seems to get easier afterwards once I have stepped back from it, pushed it out of the nest so to speak.
H O P E A N D D E S P A I R
Melbourne is a breeding ground for facsimiles.
For all the shit which is slung in the direction of ACCA’s pre-rusted walls, easy target as they are, it has housed some of the best shows in Melbourne this year without a doubt, even though it's presented its fair share of atrocities also. Segments of ‘bicycle tracks will abound in utopia’ were amazing, wonderful. Janet Cardiff and Muntean Rosenblum for the Melbourne Festival, a great show. They are doing a damn site better than the NGV at any rate, although these days that doesn’t seem too hard to achieve.
I have been re-reading a book of Greek mythology from childhood. Nice to re-absorb forgotten snippets, like that Midas was given donkey’s ears by Apollo, and that Zeus’ wife was fiery and irrational and agressive, and that Neptune hated Ulysses.
Sitting in a brisk breeze in some sort of gritty receiving bay doorway attached to a heavy-lifting device, some sort of winch. Toxed out of my studio again (hence the winch).
I have to get out of here, place is filling with toxic hydrocarbons.
Hh-eah.
I have encountered an unusually high number of arsehole British tourists today. Giggly consumers 'letting their hair down' in Australia, reinforcing one another's pig-eyed Umweltsichts and refusing to apply their brains.
The lead guitarist of one of the other bands, who I will post a picture of later if it comes out, was encircled by the most incredible array of pedals. He had at least twenty set up. Unfortunately he didn’t seem to produce anything very unusual with this setup. I was reminded that when Damo Suzuki performed in Melbourne he summoned a selection of local musicians to play with him. The pedal-man was one of them, and from my point of view the times when he was playing completely ruined the flow and structure of the music, it wanted to be central and in this way misapprehended the point of the ensemble it seemed.
I have had The Cruel Mother by Shirley Collins intensely in my head for the past two days. The tune has imprinted itself upon me, I can’t stop singing it. But the lyrics are so awful and sad that it makes me feel sick also, to have it swimming around in my head.
Tomorrow marks the completion of work for my last show of the year. The work is a re-instatement of aesthetic constructs which surrounded the 1988 bicentennial ‘celebration’ of the invasion of Australia by colonists. It is to do with the identity spaces where the Nationalist constructs of hope fall short, but which are not completely subsumed by personal ideas of identity. The product of the assimilation of national identity constructs by personal/unconscious identity constructs. The consideration of how premeditated cultural events exist after time, when they loose the gelid anaesthetic of the current context. My inability to translate these ideas for other people’s brains at this point is a matter of course. I seem always to have a period shortly before the completion of a piece of work when I have trouble articulating the work’s meaning. Perhaps the ideas are too bound to the visual objects, or perhaps I have to disengage from the ideas at some point so that I can actually reach a point where the work is 'finished'. Early on it is not a problem, and it seems to get easier afterwards once I have stepped back from it, pushed it out of the nest so to speak.
H O P E A N D D E S P A I R
Melbourne is a breeding ground for facsimiles.
For all the shit which is slung in the direction of ACCA’s pre-rusted walls, easy target as they are, it has housed some of the best shows in Melbourne this year without a doubt, even though it's presented its fair share of atrocities also. Segments of ‘bicycle tracks will abound in utopia’ were amazing, wonderful. Janet Cardiff and Muntean Rosenblum for the Melbourne Festival, a great show. They are doing a damn site better than the NGV at any rate, although these days that doesn’t seem too hard to achieve.
I have been re-reading a book of Greek mythology from childhood. Nice to re-absorb forgotten snippets, like that Midas was given donkey’s ears by Apollo, and that Zeus’ wife was fiery and irrational and agressive, and that Neptune hated Ulysses.
Sitting in a brisk breeze in some sort of gritty receiving bay doorway attached to a heavy-lifting device, some sort of winch. Toxed out of my studio again (hence the winch).
12/11/2004
Indecent obsession
I have been developing a theory that it is a condition of being human to be self-obsessed. Self-obsession can be abject, via indulgence. And although I have not considered every possible circumstance obviously, when I think about the forms of selflessness which are connected to religion, they invariably promise a superb afterlife, hence this sort of dedication can be seen as an understanding on the part of the subject that they are doing the best possible thing for themselves in the end.
I think that everyone I know is self-obsessed. Perhaps I know more people who literalise their self-obsession than most people would know, being involved in an art scene where literalising self-obsession is a way of synthesizing celebrity.
I think that everyone I know is self-obsessed. Perhaps I know more people who literalise their self-obsession than most people would know, being involved in an art scene where literalising self-obsession is a way of synthesizing celebrity.
11/11/2004
Cobras. Death. Lakes. Always.
Alriiiggghhhtttt. Cobra Killer play in the city eliminating the prospect of having to skank out to Meredith for it. Nobody does red wine and vintage dresses like these gals. And supported by Lakes and Always. Alriiiggghhhtttt.
Agents of Abhorrence
A couple of weeks ago we went to see agents of abhorrence in the scungy dungeon underneath soak, a much needed counteraction to a particularly abhorrent exhibition at Gertrude Street. They are fucking awesome and are one of my favourite bands after just one listening. Everyone who lives in Melbourne should endeavour to witness. This phenomenon of a small metal audience which I noticed there where the audience participate in this active conversation in between the songs is kind of cool, patch-gatherers and goth hair-smoothers aside. I am astonished at the degree of merchandise acquisition which goes on in this scene.
Go see agents of abhorrence if you can.
Go see agents of abhorrence if you can.
The Drought
Supposedly, the rise in sea level and temperature is going to cause the plankton and microbes living in the upper layer of the ocean to die. And once they are dead there is no going back. This is projected to happen in ten to twenty years. No doubt this will cause a significant decline or extinction in the whale population and probably a whole host of other organisms. Another factor is that the microbes will no longer be around to release a gas which encourages clouds to precipitate.
The person who told me this also made the point that in the event of the earth reaching a point where it will no longer sustain life, those Christian godfearers who carry with them a smug demeanour on account of their religion will not see any reason to drop such smug demeanour because to them, humanity abusing the earth until it dies can be understood as the rapture, the sounding of Gabriel's trumpet.
The person who told me this also made the point that in the event of the earth reaching a point where it will no longer sustain life, those Christian godfearers who carry with them a smug demeanour on account of their religion will not see any reason to drop such smug demeanour because to them, humanity abusing the earth until it dies can be understood as the rapture, the sounding of Gabriel's trumpet.
10/11/2004
Weblogs exist in a very strange space socially. To obtain a degree of familiarity with a person by reading their weblog, having never met them, it’s as though you become a bit creepy for knowing about them and assuming a level of familiarity towards them when they know nothing about you. They are like little pockets of celebrity. I suppose this is why they have evolved to exist within communities, and why people tend to read the weblogs of people they know more often than not. This peculiar option of supplementing an absence...
05/11/2004
Boo Amerika, Boo
I have been reading an interview with Varg Vikernes on Stephen O'Malley's site (www.ideologic.org). In some respects he has some good points, and I admire his abilities to create. Perhaps it is my awareness of Australia's cultural history which makes me see his power-to-white-racial-purism attitude as a bit laughable. I think the historical examples he talks about in support of his claims are due to circumstance rather than actual racial heirarchy. I think it is wonderful for Vikernes to be part of a race of which he feels proud, and for that reason protective. But I disagree that therefore all races who share the characteristics of his race are good and pure, and others filthy and polluted. Take the instance of Australia. The indigenous population (being a very black people), lived sustainably on this continent for tens of thousands of years, at least. They understood the rhythms of their environment. They knew that the bush needs fire to propagate, and they new how to glean food and medicines and many other things, as nomads must. Then the whities arrived in the 18th century, chopped down the trees, spread disease, introduced the concept of heirarchical authority and employed it to cause individuals to destroy other tribes. It is a huge tragedy that the bulk of Australian Aborginals have been wiped out. And his whole spiel about 'the Americans are quite capable of wiping out entire races, look at the American Indians' which America is socially and economically so sick now, and have just elected to become sicker over the next four years, and are at the mooment exporting huge amounts of product to China, and using the profits to pay off their debts to China. American power is a brutal, pathetic illusion which promotes nothing good unless you are seeing things in terms of the value of depopulation. I can relate to his vindication of racial purity insofar as it relates to returning to/engaging in a local mentality rather than some muddy sort of globalism. This is what I think is at the core of Pauline Hanson's political policies even though her ineloquence has caused her to be villified and derided.
The other thing that annoyed me was Vikernes' whinging about 'black metal' as a group of people who are all doing the same thing and so fuck it all, and then saying he's been enjoying listening to rave music, soviet marches, and folk, all of which came into being as a result of groups of people all doing the same thing. So whilst Vikernes strikes me as a very intelligent and talented person, he also strikes me as a hypocritical bigot. Hopefully he will spend some of his remaining time in jail examining his ideologies.
The other thing that annoyed me was Vikernes' whinging about 'black metal' as a group of people who are all doing the same thing and so fuck it all, and then saying he's been enjoying listening to rave music, soviet marches, and folk, all of which came into being as a result of groups of people all doing the same thing. So whilst Vikernes strikes me as a very intelligent and talented person, he also strikes me as a hypocritical bigot. Hopefully he will spend some of his remaining time in jail examining his ideologies.
03/11/2004
Boo, George, Boo!
Watching the election in America, what a waste of resources. So far it's Kerry 9, Bush 7. Bush has secured the states of Alabama, Georgia, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana and West Virginia. Ugh. Update: ?Bush has taken the lead. A sorry day for the US if he gets re-elected, not to mention the rest of the world. Many a glum face was to be seen in Melbourne when John Howard got back in. Waking up to the first day of blazing sun to introduce the hot season, and the grim realisation that what we thought was a tour-de-force of anti-Howard sentiment throughout our wide brown land, was in fact confined to a pocket of reality whose borders extended no further than those of Melbourne.
Several hours later...
Sooo, America... what doth go on in the heads of your fair people? >>>>>Sending all republican voters an emanation of pure>>> psychic>>> dismay>>>>>>.
Several hours later...
Sooo, America... what doth go on in the heads of your fair people? >>>>>Sending all republican voters an emanation of pure>>> psychic>>> dismay>>>>>>.
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