Do Sour Grapes Make Good Wine?

Ok Ok Ok... I didn't get a spot at Craft Vic. And I'm a not so good loser ( I'm a dreadfully gracious winner though). My concept needs developing, as it happens. The thing is, I agree that my concept (as required in 100 words or less) was weak and vague and at best a 'perhaps' because I don't know nor care what my psychology is and was stabbing at a possible cause for my interest in conjoined bunnies. And who am I to say. AND, I don't care.

I like making things. If my gut tells me it's right, I do it and I feel strongly about it too, like a real artist. Damn having to explain myself.

I love the history and development of techniques in (needle) craft. You can only respect those (mostly) women who made beautiful things to wear or to make their homes pretty, and then thought of even more interesting things to do with the orange plastic net bags you buy oranges in. Things that look like actual flowers when they're on top of the fridge and you're over the other side of the room. I think such an ironic conceptualisation of the natural evolution of plastics in a post-modern world is brilliant and I want to further their cause.

So I'm terribly shitty. Terribly, terribly, really annoyed that the "Art World" continues with the myth that Art is neccessarily defined by Concept. In fact, the Art is in the Concept. The medium and imagery, the skill and graphic workability is not secondary, but unimportant. The importance of the object is relevant only as seen through it's justification.

Not that I'm so brilliant. But, anyone's work should speak for itself. And I intensley dislike the need to spin. And now I have to apply myself to spinning even more, and I wanted it to be over and done so I could get on with the work.

On another note:

I saw Myrtle Corbin's photo in a movie yesterday... 'Fur'. Nicole Kidman played the part of Diane Arbus, the woman who photographed people who lived on the fringe of society. Nicole acted limply. Like a wet, thoughtful snail. Gratuitously condescending, contemplating the 'freaks' of humanity with maternal affection (as seen by the tilt of head and kind smile playing at the corner of her mouth) and long, ponderous looks with pooling blue eyes. What could have been a good story was, you guessed right, turned into a Hollywood romance/tragedy. When she shaved the hairy man I wanted to snatch the razor from her insipid, caring hand and get the frikkin' job done! Pronto!

BUT, the colours were beautiful. I like the apartments a lot. I had a dream where we lived in those colours. I used to have coloured walls and it was so nice.

Oh... Myrtle Bunny is over here.

Anyway, thanks for listening.