Friday, July 2, 2010

One of those days

This morning I got called David Rasmussen (which is definitely not my name) in a meeting, then I fell over in the corridor even though there was absolutely nothing to trip up on, and approximately 5 minutes later I found a grey hair while looking in the bathroom mirror all the while noticing how dishevelled and unspectacular I am looking today. I am writing it off as one of those days and rolling with the punches.
For the rest of the day I'm answering my work phone as David, fuck it.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Last month in New Zealand

I sure am going to miss those friends of mine!

Model living

I recently came across Alex Prager's images which are simultaneously weird, cool and creepy. Ultra American glam, the models look like staged mannequins, each injected with a unique personality. Some cooler than ice, others totally vulnerable, it's like sneaking a peek into a strange yet sophisticated parallel universe. I love the model standing awkwardly frozen in the sea. What on earth is going on there? Self taught and based in LA, Prager has described the city as “a strange picture of perfection… with a sense of unease under the surface of all this beauty and promise.” This oddness transcends into her photographs. When I saw Pragers photos I was immediately reminded of Yvonne Todd who presents a NZ version, albeit slightly seventies and dowdy, bringing back childhood embarassment and shameful outfits in a dizzying flash.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

More ear candy

The XX.
I'm addicted.

my head, heart and legs

Londres has been my home for a month and a tidbit and has kindly gifted me;
~ employment & a flat ~
I move in Saturday and have made plans to raid the nearest opshop for moth ball scented pillows, throws and amateur watercolour landscapes.

and I am dining alfresco with a boy in a park tomorrow evening.
I believe the above represents the feeling that is increasingly filling my head, heart, and wobbly legs this week.

Raven Haired {symbolic animals part II}

"Highly enthusiastic, and a natural entrepreneur, the Crow is quite a charmer. But he/she doesn't have to work at being charming – it comes easily. Everyone recognizes the Crow's easy energy, and everyone turns to the Crow for his/her ideas and opinions. This is because the Crow is both idealistic and diplomatic and is quite ingenious. In nurturing environments this Native American animal symbol is easy-going, can be romantic, and soft-spoken. Further, the crow can be quite patient, and intuitive in relationships. Left to his/her own devices, the Crow can be demanding, inconsistent, vindictive, and abrasive."

Tuesday, June 29, 2010


You say 50's and I think floral aprons, glamorous housewives and white collar working men. I think of grandparents on pedestals telling us they would never have behaved as illicitly as we do and that it was a 'different set of rules back then.'

The gang kids pictured above called themselves The Jokers. They to were a part of the 50's, albeit the slightly seedier side. Roaming Brooklyn streets they did most things society told them not to. Loitering, tattoos, public displays of affection, boozy excess consumption and lurid dancemoves all fit the bill. 
Bruce Davidson followed the gang around and captured their lifestyle intimately. Famous for his significant images of the Civil Rights movement in the late 50s and 60s his smaller portfolios are starting to gain notoriety. Totally initimate and truthful, it's nice to know that kids can be kids, no matter what the era.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Forgotten habits

Lovely Natasha sent me the best package from Korea, filled with the best imaginable stationary. The joy of receiving it in the mail was overwhelming. And, it couldn't have come at a better time. I had been mulling for a few days about starting something I hadn't done for years.

A diary. Not a 'dear diary, today so blue' but more sporadic thoughts as they struck. It started shakily, I had almost forgotten what it was like, what I was supposed to write and how I ended things. I couldn't shake the feeling I was writing it like someone else was going to read it so it wasn't really truly for me. This feeling is slowly sliding away and I'm getting bolder with my words and thoughts. 

It strange the way you feel in a moment when you write something, that is your total truth for that moment. Then a week, month, or year later everything is different. It's great for learning but that's is also the danger in diaries.

Above, the cover, the first page which is self conscious as talking about Mum and Dad and my grandma, a grocery shopping list quickly jotted for tonight and my boyfriends little brother Adrian and I practising writing our names.