Nature

The fire of nature doesn’t want to be controlled. It wants to burn to the point where the area can be renewed, by the tune the wind plays on a certain day. Nature doesn’t care about peoples’ houses. It only cares about the health of its skin and its hairs that are growing. When humans try to control nature, this just makes organic order messy. The humans are just being hyper critical about the place they are settling. But that's the hippycritter doing its scuttle skidder eh? and then peddling its non-sequenced shares and negating the eclairs.

While the hippo goes in circles in a zoo of someone else’s making and only escapes into a hypotenuse when it learns how to break free from the captive inside its own sense of sublime ridicule which criticises a state of mind that is trying to encouraged hype to the point where it can wear a stripe. Waking up is important, circles can be hypnotic. So those who preach what they cannot teach at least should collect their straight and curl them to the point where they don’t make such a scar in those they anoint. Although if done artistically branding might be the way to go! Slash and burn only works for some.

Mirrored

People reflect so much of what is around them. My fingers get nicely calloused from the guitar strings. And when I say “Get Stuffed,” to the Lammington, that pink fluffy thing thinks I said I wanted it to fck itself or something. So it starts multiplying. And then there’s all these Lammingtons around me saying the same thing, “We love the Lammington/ Have you seen the Lammington?/ I wish the Lammington was in.”
But that’s not my thinking, I can’t stomach such things. They upset me and distract me from what I’m doing. Then try to blame me for their pussy getting hit by a car.
Question is how do you get a Lammington to go away when you’re trying to concentrate on writing? Mash them.

A landscape of containers

Last year I started thinking about how containers might fit together, be linked. And how they are something like human behaviour. How our lives can be wrapped up in little tempory bits of plastic.

Now, I've got the gallery set up full of artful intregue.

And some brilliant guest speakers at my opening

of the exhibition 12th June 6-8pm,

At 54 Burke Road, Malvern East, Melbourne, Australia

Sustainable culture, Fern Rainbow

& stand-up comedian, Duff

Art is organic. It is a dream. It instigates. It is a creation. It is something that is a platform from which to think. It is responsible and responding. And although items in an exhibition may be separate, it is best to curate some bonding.

Escape in the clouds

The weather contained in a ship in a picture on the sailor's sole

Tigercork

“Don’t mind me. I’ll guard your door,” says Tigercork. “I’ll keep them out and at bay, won’t let them touch any delicates. I’m armless, but I know enough about the world to know who’s who and sort out which ones spit out their gum in the bin and those who leave it on the floor for you and I to step on. I won’t let anyone through who you don’t want there. They can stare me in the eye all they like, and I’ll just stare back as they look at me cork and pins, but I’m not stepping out of the way, until I know they’re okay. So no worries. I won’t let them get a foot in edgeways.”

Ocean floor dish

Thinking about putting this in the ocean somewhere. Trick the fish into nibbling on it. Do it just to tease them. Think it's a sea lettuce.

Masked Existence

Why would someone want something like this?
What do you mean?
It just looks like a pile of rubbishy thinking
It’s absurd.
What do you mean?
I’ve lined the plastic with pink velvet and made it gape like a mouth among the used guitar strings and other things.
So?
It’s called Masked Existence. I’m changing the way the containers look. It is a prototype rethink on how I use my equipment to rearrange the nature of how we look at a junkyard.
Is your whole exhibition going to be like this?
No, not really. Just this one piece. Each of my art works has an individual reason for existing. I don’t repeat the same idea over and over again. Sometimes ideas are connected though. But they are as separate as humans are. I’m interested in how we interact with our environment. How we merge and attempt to be separately contained and how it is possible to understand this even without having a conversation with a person.
I’m sorry, but I hate this piece of artwork so much. I really do. It reminds me of the worst kind of art I’ve seen. It reminds me not of children, but of crap. Just a whole lot of crap mashed together. But then I when look closer and I realise there is a fair bit of work in this. And that makes me want to know why someone would put so much effort into something that looks, from a distance like nothing much other than a tangle of bits and pieces of shit. At first it made me feel sick. Then I rethought that feeling and I said to myself, well now, what would I do to make it look a bit better… And I thought perhaps maybe I would add a whole bit more on the bottom and have it up in the air and dangling from a chain. Because I think this piece is about someone who is in utter pain. It does not make me happy. It makes me sad. It makes me want to strangle the thing that made it. It makes me want to rip it to shreds. It is so stupid and braindead. Okay. Now I’ve said it. Sorry for being such a pian, I just can’t help it.
Poor thing, no one likes it. No wonder it masked its existence.