SPECTATOR S'PORT

Went to watch the Natbats play their first game of the indoor soccer season last Wednesday.

Took about 300 photos and these were the best I came up with. It's harder to photograph this sport than you might think. It's fast, it's played in a confined space and there is a net between you and the players.

Oh, and the score isn't really important. Everyone is a winner! :P

ARTIST STATEMENT

This is the work I created the day I hit crisis point.

Art about the rut.

CHRIS ELLISON

Here is my newest artwork to date:



I drew this portrait of Chris Ellison on my low-tech antique mobile phone last Friday night. The original version included upper body with beer in hand, but it would only save a clip-art sized square of my artwork. I took a photo of it, had it printed 8"X6" and put it in a mounted frame.

Had mid-semester reviews today. Showed Andrea Tu and Bernard Sachs (two Gods of the contemporary art world, and, coincidentally, the ones assessing my progress at the VCA).
They loved it.

It's my favourite artwork I've done so far this year.
I'm not even joking.
(But I am. I really am.)

GONE ARE THE DAYS

What I could really use right about now is a place like this...



with a set-up like this...



and a view that looks something like this...





I need to think about...







That last one was taken from Antonia's blog. Check it out.
http://age-of-my-enlightenment.blogspot.com/

FAIL

Today I hit crisis point.

I've been told I should scrap my current ideas;
I've been told that the hourlies are my best option (about 2 minutes after being told they were a waste of my time by the same teacher);
I've been told I'm wasting my ability;
I've been thrown into the deep end of conceptual and text based art which I've never really considered and know nothing about (and I'm drowning);
none of my ideas are worthwhile - they aren't clever enough, they've been done, they aren't what I want to do (and these are all MY conclusions);
I've never been 100% happy with anything I've made, ever;
I'm beginning to question the point of it all (again);
none of it serves a purpose;
art is selfish and self-reflexive;
I tried to write my thoughts on the topic down just before and I couldn't articulate a word of it;
Esteban, Andre and Tom Craine all have valid points, none of which counteract the issues I’m having with the art world;
nothing I can do is wrong, and equally isn't right;
everything is so obvious;
I’m struggling;
I’m stalling;
I care because it matters;
I laugh because it doesn't matter in the slightest;
I'm worried... but not really;
I’m confused but I understand;
I’m lost but I know exactly where I am and where I need to be;
I don’t know how to get there and where to turn next;
I don’t know what to do, where to start and how;
I've been hiding behind the safety of research;
I've got nothing to show for my time;
mid-semester reviews are this Monday;
there's a book on my desk at the VCA right now entitled "ART IS EASY";
SOMETHING'S GOTTA GIVE!

THAT'S THE END OF THAT CHAPTER.

The last night in Richmond. *sigh*

Was expecting a quiet one, just me and Chris.

Was expecting a relatively early night.

Was wrong.



Despite not having invited anyone, Jono, James and Speer rocked up to Richmond station just before midnight. An excellent turn of events.



The night involved (respectively):

1. Standing on the balcony, singing in the rain. Just singing in the rain.


2. The recently revolutionised version of downball, whereby every final is played using both the front wall AND the wall directly opposite.


3. Push-up poker (we had nothing to bet with so we bet on push-ups and sit-ups. I almost folded with the best hand in the game. I am nothing short of an idiot. James, however, did 330 push-ups that night. And I... I did not. Speer reached the point of being physically incapable of mustering up a push-up (face plants were more his specialty). And Jono (despite being "so tired" from soccer training) remained unfazed by the whole ordeal. My theory is he runs on energiser batteries. Non-stop.)


4. Consuming almost all the remaining soft drink, chocolate, chips and lollies in the house.


5. Deciding that despite it being the last night in Richmond EVER and having to get out by 8:30, we should probably go to sleep at least for a bit.


6. Lying in the darkness, talking, even though we had agreed on sleeping.


7. Sleeping. But only once the first rays of the sun could be seen to brighten the morning sky.

And unfortunately I have no photos of any of these events. Just the night, and the in between.

Oh, and this one photo of Jesus, who happened to be circling the city in a helicopter. We would have followed, but Chris and I were fresh out of gold, frankincense and myrrh, and we were short one wise man.

It doesn't get much better than that.

Thanks for coming. Thanks for staying.

:)

PATTERN TO THE PUZZLE

Second last afternoon in Richmond.
With Christopher.

We cleaned all the ball marks off the walls. It was a party. (BYO sponge and detergent)

Then we did sudoku puzzles together in the MX we had. Finished that. Went down the road, bought the Age and the Sun and did those ones too.

Spent most of the time on the balcony with a view of everything and beyond. Well... not quite, but that's more or less what it feels like up there. I love the shapes and the patterns, the angles and the way it all repeats.

The B E S T place to sit and think and talk and be.

"I'm going to miss this place."
"Me too, amigo. Me too."