[Miscellany]

When summer break began so did my spiral into delinquency.   I've become a serial graffitist; I graffiti comics on the walls of public restrooms.  I've been posting my scribblings on my IG account and by all accounts it's the first time in a long while that I've felt truly excited and inspired by something I've created.

I told MVOR about my new project after reminiscing about an old book I read as a teenager.   The book; Displaced Person by Lee Harding is the story about a boy who slowly started losing grip with reality to the point where he completely disappears from view and ceases to exist to all the people that once knew him in his life.  At first he finds it hard to get people's attention, then his parents start ignoring him and soon he slips through a crack in reality to find himself in a grey world where he can't engage at all with the life he once knew and wondering whether he was going mad or if this was some cruel joke being played on him by God.

MVOR was interested in the tale I told and immediately drew parallels between by own life of feeling invisible, undervalued and insignificant and the life of this fictional boy who was going through a displacement.

Then I told her about the graffiti.

Surprisingly, MVOR applauded me on this.  I was expecting her to question my reasons for doing so and to caution me against defacing public property but she didn't.  She laughed; of course you are doing this!  You are putting your hand up in the only way you know how.  You are making your mark.  You are asking people to see you, to notice you, to understand you.  You are reaching out and leaving a legacy.  You are validating yourself as a person worthy of being noticed.

Oh... well.  In that case...

Labels: art, displaced, life and art, MVOR, psychos, thinking

posted by M at 3:47 am 5 comments

MVOR and I talked a lot about self-worth in our latest sitting. Clearly it's a reoccurring theme in my life and we bring it up a lot.  I'd spent a good many years (my whole life) tearing myself down and so I wonder if now I have to spend the same amount of time building myself up?  MVOR brought up me needing to enjoy the soup of my existence rather than looking at my life as a series of individual ingredients.  She didn't put it quite like that - being much more eloquent and poetic than I - but this is how I remember it:

Take everything that you are and put it all together, heat, stir, let it simmer - sometimes for hours - and then you have the soup of your life.  The soup is a dossier of the important bits that make up our person(a). If you think about what goes into your soup it can be quite humbling - perhaps it's the loss of a family member, the love you had for your pet dog, the wife who left you, the happiest marriage ever, the love in your heart for your child, the brother who failed to emotionally check in, abuse, love, joy, bullying, family holidays down by the lake, illness that stole people far too early, being heartbroken and those whose hearts you have toyed with recklessly - it's all there.  Whatever they are, good and bad, all the flavours contribute to the whole.  The soup ceases to be simply the sum of its parts once it has been cooked - it is no longer onion, cumin, celery etc, it's something completely different.

MVOR pointed out that I am picking apart ingredients and judging my whole 'soup' on one little bit.  Cumin tastes like absolute shite on its own, but in the soup it probably adds to the flavour.  I'm looking at the cumin and giving the whole soup a bad review based on that singular flavour only.  It's true that sometimes when you take a spoonful of the soup you might get a mouthful of chilli, or cumin or whatever and it causes you to splutter and fail to swallow but still - the soup is more than this mouthful.  We are more than the sum of our parts, even though the parts make the sum.  Does that make sense?

My soup is an series of ingredients which I have thus far refused to enjoy as a cohesive meal.  I've taken this rather negative perspective on my life instead (as best paraphrased by a conversation in the movie Clueless):

Cher: she's a full-on Monet 

Tai: What's a Monet?

Cher: It's like a painting, see? From far away, it's OK, but up close, it's a big old mess.

I see myself in the microcosm - the Monet up close and as the list of ingredients rather than the whole soup.   According to MVOR I should start looking at myself as the whole soup rather than the sum of the ingredients and if I find myself spluttering on a mouthful of cumin I need to reposition that as part of the whole rather than as a defining part of me - yes it exists, yes it's bad, yes it's part of my history and therefore part of my now but I am not just cumin.  I need to acknowledge and respect those parts of me that are not that great but in no way should I be judging the whole on the sum of it's parts.

Aaaand now I'm hungry.

*no cumin was harmed in the writing of this post.  Feel that perhaps I was a little too hard on it. It's really quite a nice spice.

Labels: analogy, analysis, art, life, life and art, monet, musings, MVOR, psychos, thoughts

posted by M at 8:04 pm 5 comments

* Why do people hate people with red hair so much? I'm afraid that reddy boys get the worst end of the stick for some reason. Every single preggo chick I've known has at some point expressed a wish for it 'not to be a ranga'. I've even heard 'shall drown it if it is' (which made me laugh, sorry). I don't really see what all the fuss is about as I am a card carrying member of the Eric Stolz fan club (and have gone down that road myself via a dye bottle or two) however I have been assured that giving birth to a red one is something worth worrying about. Hell, my friend E discovered that her beloved has a bit of red in the beard and is now worried that all her anti-red tirades will come back to haunt her through her future children who she claims will be doomed to red hair and freckles - all coming from a gene that is about as far away from her own family as you can imagine. L (the husband) gets it every now and again in the form of anti-red/you have a defective gene emotional outbursts.

What is it about carrot top boys that entice ridicule, anger, distaste, fear and loathing? Why is it okay to have a ginger minge if you're a girl but not if you're a boy?

* Was bored and so I got into the car and drove the Eastlink the other day (what an exciting life I lead, I hear you think!). Now the Eastlink is this newly opened stretch of freeway that "links up" Melbourne's outer Eastern suburbs with roads leading directly into the city. It's a tollway and since it just opened we get a free trial. The road itself is okay. It's a visually textured stretch of road - which means that there's a lot of different "stuff" to look at a long the way. There's about a million pieces of sculpture and lots of brightly coloured barricades to stare at (of course this is just highly annoying if you're the one doing the driving). Having said all that I'm left with the feeling that while the road is fine to drive on I wonder whether all those stops along the new freeway are really places best left unlinked instead. Have we opened portals to other dimensions we really shouldn't have? I got to the end and realised I didn't really want to be there. Maybe it (only?) works better when you're heading into the city?

Has anyone driven it? What did you think of the artwork? Did "hotel" do it for you?

*I'm getting right into Big Brother UK at the moment (In all fairness I've given up on ours and only watch Big Mouth now). I don't know exactly what it is about their BB that I like so much but I think it has something to do with the fact that they actually DO have a variety of ages in there (rather than one old tart and everyone else barely out of the womb like we do) and their Big Brother is less about "twists" and more about laying the foundations for more real interactions than we have. Interestingly I'm finding that while we as a whole (audience and housemates) are more polite (not including Brigitte) than the Brits (they actually boo their housemates!) us Aussies fail big time in two important areas: our attitude towards race and women (and yes, if you're suddenly thinking but the Brits aren't so great at those things either then you're actually getting my point!).

I've written and re-written this paragraph about a million times and yet it never seems to come out right so I'll just say this. The "bloke-speak" in the Australian version of BB is out of control BAD - both in verbalisation but also the general attitude too. A couple of years ago I wrote this and I have to say my thoughts on the matter haven't changed one bit even though no actual "turkey slapping" has been going on in the Oz house this year.

Labels: art, babies, big brother, blokes, crap reality tele, dirty femmo, gender stuff, questions, ranga, TV, wonderings

posted by M at 1:30 am 22 comments

This afternoon she smiles knowingly. You see? she teases I can be nice - and nice she is. Golden sunlight stream down between the heavy grey buildings and into her so called famous lane-ways. I walk past those graffitied to perfection in all the right places and those that are dolled up with rows of cafe tables - in order to flirt with a man I'm slightly afraid of. I don't agree with flirting to get what you want, but times are tough and I'm a little desperate.

I arrive at my destination with a bounce still in my step - fresh from a sidewalk packed with sightseers and locals enjoying the surprisingly warm afternoon. I find him in the back of the shop leaning against a wall. He notices me too - how could he not? I have ready to be bought written across my forehead. He by contrast is wearing a hint of sleaze and a gold earring in his ear. He has don't mess with me written across his chest. He could break me without trying I think - but I pretty much think that about all people I meet, though in this case this one I'm guessing actually could.

Against my own will I wonder what it would be like to reach up kiss his full lips - something I wonder about almost all men I come across. I imagine the contrasting tangle of black and white we would create and for a moment I let the daydream creep up along my neck and up to my cheeks. He catches the look and smiles knowingly. This is too easy for him - I smile without any hint of tease, a little embarrassed, and step back. I'm not that girl. I don't know why I thought I could be anything but sincere, even in an exchange that would benefit me.

Back and forth the exchange goes until it seems we both win - or at least both get what we want. I prepare to leave and he looks down at my chest and winks as I step onto the pavement and into the sunlight. My mouth gapes in surprise and I stifle a laugh. Okay, he wins.

I am like a fawn on gangly legs with my newly acquired toy. The old one fit my hand like a glove, and this one is too big, too heavy, too difficult. We argue at each pass - disagreeing with how things should be run. I have the vision but it the technology to make it happen - we haven't learned to work together yet - and I'm just not used to sharing the lead with any dance partner, let alone one that can't talk back. I dip my paintbrush in the light and hand it over - doubtful - this process will take some getting used to.

Labels: art, daydreams, lens, melbourne musings, money, toys

posted by M at 8:34 pm 18 comments

* So the libs are scratching their heads re: opposition leader K-Rudd being more popular than ever after admitting that he visited the strippers 4 years ago. IMO it's not the fact that he visited the strippers that has made him popular but because he actually was matter of fact and didn't try to lie his way out of it. A politician that admits he was a bit of a "goose"? Sounds good to me - at least we agree on something.

Big surprise I'm sure but I'm not a fan of men who visit strip joints regularly. Yes, yes I accept that 99% of men have been to a strip club - wow. It's when they only keep change in 5 dollar notes and refer to their ladies by name and or go you know..cause it's Tuesday that it's a problem. Bucks night? Okay, fine. Tuesday? Um no, you suck.

Having said that I don't understand why any kind of business meeting takes place in a strip club. Why even try to make it official? Why not just say - hey, after work let's all go watch strippers hump a pole!! YEAAAHHHH *high five* - why the whole ruse about business? Is it about keeping female employees out of any position above secretary? Obviously any chick they invite along to the strip club for business they're doing so in order to intimidate, and harass. I never hear of female "business" taking place inside a male strip club. I don't get it.

But I digress, what is it about politicians pretending they've never done anything wrong - never smoked pot, never downed more than a light beer, never looked at a porno? Come the fuck on, we already think the libs are a bunch of disgusting freaks that need to be neutered before they spread their genes further than necessary (what? Is this opinion wrong?) - as if admitting they're human is going to make matters worse? I say they'd made more friends and influence people if they actually looked like they breathe the same oxygen as the rest of us.

* Prin approached me to let me know that the ex art teacher was coming back to the school and that she wasn't fussed about going back into the classroom herself. Prin told me first because she wanted the choice to be mine. I don't know what to do. In the last two years (about two of you were reading this when I made the original decision to go into the AR in the first place) I've learned that I'm much more capable than I ever imagined. I've gone from classroom management to dealing with distributors, stockists, creating and running my own program, balancing a budget, taking on a multitude of extra roles and also created a very different and dynamic art curriculum that is talked about both inside and outside the school (I get approached by people I don't even know who want to talk about it). Anyway, in terms of the role itself I've never felt more loved and indeed never felt like I've contributed more.

On the other hand I've felt very lonely and frustrated in this role too. Some days, like today I get to my 5th class of doing the same lesson over again and I just want to scream and cry. The staff meetings don't always relate to me and I don't always feel like the work I'm doing is important - this is despite kids coming up to me saying that they want to be an artist now - or parents telling me that their child has never enjoyed art so much. sigh.. I just don't know.

I like the autonomy that the art role affords me but at the same time I miss being part of a team. I hate the idea of having changed the whole program ie: creating an awesome place in the art room with new state of the art equipment (not to mention the media stuff) and then having someone else come in and reap the benefits of that, but at the same time I know I can't sustain this kind of pace forever. If I went back to the classroom I know that I would go back to feeling like my ideas weren't always being taken into consideration and that I'd be playing second fiddle again. I also know that there would be competition between myself and other teachers - especially going back to the level I want to teach at - where the teachers tend to market themselves and I absolutely LOATHE doing. And parents..god they can be horrible to classroom teachers. Then again - I love teaching in the classroom. I love the variety and indeed seeing how children learn and make really important learning steps. I like getting to know them as people rather than as kids I see one hour a week.

What am I going to do?

* I'm also trying to make a choice between two new camera lenses - for personal use. Every retailer I have spoken to says the same thing - it's a coin flip but it depends on what you want to do with it

Honey, I want to do it all.

And this is my problem overall, wouldn't you say?

Labels: art, choices, men, political musings, school, stressed teachers, tarot spread, women

posted by M at 7:13 pm 11 comments

The great thing about my job is that I get to think about and view pieces of artwork all day and it's all legit. People also approach me for my opinion about art as well. I find the later absolutely hilarious - since it was only a couple of years ago that I was in the classroom and people were asking me about reading instead. I haven't changed qualifications overnight - just the perception of me has changed. It's made me realise how titles can create an aura that has little to do with the actual person. To be fair, a lot of people talked to me about art before too - but just without illusions as to what I did and did not know.

I've been working with a lot of Australian painters with the kids this term. The upper levels with William Barak, the little ones with Charles Blackman and the middle kids with John Brack. I didn't consciously intend to do an Australian theme across levels but somehow things just ended up that way. They just seemed like the best choices to use for what I wanted to demonstrate. A few years ago I wouldn't have given Australian artists any credence but now I rate them highly. I guess I have always had a very euro-centric view of art which has been influenced partly by my upbringing but also by being an Australian, living in Australia. We tend to find validation in the outside rather than within.

Though I spend so much of my time now contemplating art, as well as teaching it - I've come to realise that I view Art primarily through my emotions and I didn't realise that not everyone does that. I've got my red hat on, so to speak. A piece is good because it has the technique, the cultural significance, the je ne sais quoi - all that and more - but my favourite paintings are the ones that make me feel something. Maybe it's a sense of sadness, or despair, or craziness, or ..something - whatever. For me, if it doesn't make me feel then it hasn't achieved it's purpose. Yes, abstract art too (so bloody ignorantly assessed as being something 'even a child can do').

So when a colleague commented favourably on John Brack's Collins St, 5pm, which I had displayed for my next lesson I was a little taken aback by her reasons for liking it - It really shows it all doesn it? The esablishment is there. She was refering of course to the stately buildings in the background. As well as this she liked how distinguished they looked in their coats, and commented that there were hardly any women. All valid of course. All true. Though I had never thought of the painting in these terms. For me it was about the drudgery of work life, the depressing nature of being part of the dehunanising machine - you get dressed, you get on the bus you go to work, you get out at 5pm with all the other plebs, go back to the bus looking a little more weary and begin the home life which may or may not also involve other aspects of drudgery - who knows? All we see is the ever imposing buildings (Bank of NSW, indeed) and flat, almost cardboard like quality of the figures, and of life itself. The painting makes me feel depressed and in some ways I can identify. It captures that sense of monotomous, monotonal life beautifully.

I was amazed my colleague didn't touch on these points, which are so important to me and important when I view any piece of artwork. I want to know about the emotion and the feeling. I look for these things and my colleague doesn't. She wouldn't even enter into a discussion about it and I realised this is why people disagree about art. I wondered about it later and realised that she views most things, not so much superficially but does concentrate a lot on the establishment and the look. I tend to see things through the way I feel. Things aren't going so well today because I'm frustrated. Or things are wonderful, I woke up happy. You might dismiss a certain kind of art (like say children's art) because it's not sophisticated, or not perfect but then maybe you view life in this way too - you might be unrelenting in other ways too. It's interesting in that art really is life. I wonder how the way I view art is influencing my little students. I certainly look at all aspects, technique, culture, emotion etc but I only ever pick paintings which I, myself can feel. I'm like that with everything.

How do you view art? What do you look for?

Labels: art, wonderings

posted by M at 9:02 am 17 comments

I'm feeling a little 'under the fire' at work at the moment. I haven't been in the art room teaching art. I've been in the classroom teaching English, Maths and other assorted goodies. This is a temporary change while our school undergoes student testing. I've loved being in the classroom, and felt like my creativity has returned. It's funny that while teaching art I've felt that my own creativity has been stifled but while in the classroom my fight instincts are switched on and I'm constantly challenged to be on my toes, thinking of new ways to make old ideas exciting. In art - everything is pretty much already exciting. I mean how much do you really have to work to make red paint exciting? It's bloody red paint! It's slimy, it's colourful, it's messy and it's sloppy. What's not to love?

The stifled creativity that I've felt in the art room however is made up for by the fact that I am basically my own boss. I decide, plan and execute my program. I pick out the materials. I decide on the displays. I get to say which work goes up and which work doesn't. I get to be as organised or as disorganised as I like and fuck 'em if they don't agree. This freedom is wonderful. I love it. That is, I've loved it until now. Until one particular teacher has decided that she'd like to plan an extension art program for talented children.

This particular teacher is a senior teacher and well respected. She's also a friend. I don't always agree with her professional opinion - that is when it comes to what is considered talent in art. She'd like to work with me to plan an extension art group. I've been thinking of doing the same anyway, so that's no problem. But the issue is that I want to choose who goes into the group and I want to plan what goes on in the group. I know that S's idea of who goes into the group will be a little different from mine. She will pick talented artists (based on my wide recommendations) but her proviso is that their IQ needs to be high as well (since that's the point of her program). I, on the other hand would like to see children who don't get a go in anything else BUT who are also talented at art to do the program. I don't want to choose on IQ. I also don't want to be a strong arm when it comes to this... I feel a bit pressured to create a program now that is going to make the powers that be happy, when all I've been doing for the last year are things that make me and the students happy.

I don't like this feeling.

Readers of cbg will be aware of my little flirtation with public bathroom graffiti. For those that haven't seen cbg, I saw a message the other day on a toilet door that said "you are loved beyond your capability to even comprehend". I thought it was an interesting message for me to have read and wondered if anyone else had seen the message on that day and felt a little like looking over their shoulder, just like I did. I already know that roughly 99% of people who read this journal think that fate or messages or any of that stuff is bullshit, so I won't ask you what you think. But sometimes I wonder whether the universe gives a little tap. Why? I don't know.

In other news, quotegirl!

choir master - Okay kids, I want you to stand up straight and tall and sing the National Anthem - you all know the words to that, right?
8 year old - would you like me to sing it vebratto or Deep vebratto?
choir master - uh..just your normal voice will do...
hahaha, the kid was being serious too

#1 - So, S have you been doing your Pelvic Floor Exercises
me - oh shit, do we have to start talking about this?
S - How do you know you're even doing them right?
me - just stick a squeeze toy up there and if you get a noise out of it then you know you're doing it right.
S, #1, F - ....
I sure know how to stop traffic

Fashion Cousin - He texted me "I'm stressed at work. I need some space". What does that mean?
me - doesn't sound so good...
Fashion Cousin - if he wanted to break up, would he have just said so?
me - um, I dunno maybe but something tells me that men are only forward when it comes to football ...and beer.
What an arse - seriously, TEXT MESSAGE? bah!

C - the only bad thing about getting flowers is playing it up for the guy. They're only flowers but you have to stand there for just a little longer than you want to - admiring, cause if you don't you'll never get them again!
oops, that convo was supposed to be for girls only

C.O - I know this family that had a child called Luke. Then they were granted custody of their niece whose name is Leia. Earlier this year they had a baby and wanted to keep up the star wars theme so they named it Ben.
Me - Freak alert!
H - you think that's bad. I know someone who named their child Philippa Condon.
Me - ....oh. my. god no way!
H - I also know someone called Richard Coch.
Parent's are cruel.

Me - WHAT THE FUCK HAS HE DONE TO HIS FACE?
sly stallone.

Labels: a case of the leader not wanting to be lead, art, quotegirl, school, teacher dramas

posted by M at 9:11 pm 32 comments