And with that seemingly insignificant click of the keyboard, all my photos are sent to the printers for the exhibition. I was kind of hoping for some sort of fanfare, or maybe some streamers and balloons to burst out of the laptop, however, I’ll happily accept the feeling of relief and the chance for my life to return to somewhat normality. Continue reading Sip-A-To-Do-List
With less than a week until the printing deadlines, the looming exhibition again is all I’ve had time for this week.
So, please, indulge me as I regale you with the past week’s undertakings.
I sit and wait until that moment arrives I’m so excited that I tingle inside Regurgitator – Miffy’s Simplicity
There’s been emails. So many emails. Last minute ramblings, in the vague hope that the recipients will be able to decipher my manic garble, and respond with clarification. Continue reading Nice guys finish aghast
I recently had to leave town for work. After packing my bags (including the now mandatory for any journey off the property, LEGO minifigures), I grabbed a book from our bookshelves (I’d just finished the latest BricksCulture magazine cover to cover) for the plane flight and the few days away. Continue reading Requiem For Esteem
Recently, for the umpteenth time, I rewatched “The Punk Singer”, a documentary about feminist singer Kathleen Hanna who fronted the band Bikini Kill.
Kathleen is well known for being an outspoken radical feminist, credited with launching the third-wave of feminism when she helped create the riot grrrl punk movement. At Bikini Kill concerts, Hanna would encourage and enforce that women were to move to the front of the stage. The “girls to the front” concept was symbolic in empowering women at Bikini Kill concerts. Continue reading Rebel Grrrl
Well, from Bellbrae to Erskine Falls, via Anglesea, Aireys Inlet, Fairhaven, Moggs Creek, Big Hill and Lorne, as we snake our way along the Australian National Heritage listed ‘Great Ocean Road’ that hugs Australia’s south-eastern coastline. Continue reading Succession session
Allow me, if you will, to address the plastic elephant in the room.
I grew up on a steady diet of mathematics as a kid. I like numbers. Numbers don’t lie. Words can be fraudulent. Current. Season. Mine. All these words have multiple meanings. But the number 3 is always the number 3; it’s not 2, it’s not 4, it’s not 3-ish. It’s 3. Continue reading Buy, Bye Bye