Consistency

Clowns kick themselves so… why would clowns complain when they get kicked by kids, who think they’re helping the clown with their routine? Kick yourself and surely that means you’re into it, yeah? And, it is amusing to see that grinning clown face somewhat wincing. Have to play scary clown then. That’s probably why clowns aren’t so popular at present for minor amusement.

Fairies are still in. You don’t kick fairies though. Fairies tell stories and play games like pass the clap and, fairy says, and, feed the children a whole lot of bullshit. But, fairies are nice, you don’t kick them. But perhaps children might want to know if the fairy hair is a wig and give it a pull. Or they might want to know whether there is anything under that bulging flounce of a skirt. Could be pixies beneath there or something maybe…

So, here we have a topic for those friendly fiends at IFN who adore my work so much! But I don’t have a lot of time. So, I’m getting used to this magical thing called a computer. And this tablet thing that paints into minimal space in any colour of the rainbow. And we’re getting a bit more friendly. And I’m thinking, okay, it dries instantaneously, but it doesn’t have the chaos of non-digital art. It’s has a programmed structure that has definite patterns to it. Plus, am I diversifying too much from my original kicks and no one will be able to recognise my style?
People feel that way about accent. If you have several accents and several tones to your voice there is no way you should ever, ever play more than one to the same person. It makes you seem false. But I do it all the time. Always have.

In a shop long ago, I was a fairy. I dressed up prettily, danced around and fed little kiddies bullshit for their birthday parties. But they seemed to enjoy it. And I don’t think there is anything wrong with kids understanding that there are many perceptions of the world and maybe metaphorically I did shrink really small to get through the key hole into fairyland.
I had this character going, which was me, but a nice and gentle me. Her name was Thea Thistledown fairy. Thea did things like make wishes. All the children had to do was gently catch some thistle-down with a seed on it, make a wish and let it go and hopefully it would get carried back to fairyland. In a way I was PR for those prickly weeds.

There were other fairies that worked in the shop. One was a mother who had a really strong outer-suburb accent. I started talking to her and my fairy voice just slipped away and I started to get that gnarly Aussie thing happening too. Then I caught the shop-owner looking at me, thinking: Who the hell are you?

People honestly expect me to have the same voice all the time. But say, if I spoke another language other than English, as well as English, they’d have no problem with that.
The shop-owner, who was a really genuinely nice lady didn’t know how to take me after that, I guess she felt like she’d been duped or something and could no longer believe I was Queen of a prickly weed’s down.

I was no longer real. Either that or she was telling me to get real. Decipher that. And see the difference in a minimal paint that ain't digi. But is thinking about it manually.