I Don't Really H A T E Them

I've never been one to maintain my rage.

Thing is, on reflection... and Shules, don't think I'm succumbing to the man or anything... but, on reflection I think I may not have offered a very good picture of what I want to do. I so completely hate the wankiness and whilst I might struggle to formulate a cohesive 'body' of work myself, I kind of expected them to trust me to get it together rather than convinced them of it. And I will have a good grouping, don't worry about that. I'm too flip when I describe the plan, and I try to fit their criteria instead of sticking to mine.

I have very strong opinions about the crafts and my place in its history and evolution.

Next time I'm letting someone else write it.

And can you believe it, someone flagged my blog as being objectionable. Huh?? What's that about? It's my blog and I'll cry if I want to.

(I see... You're not allowed to say 'hate'. Oooooh!)

I Feel Better Now

After all, there's so much stitching to do. I love the newest dress so much and I love to stitch! Some girls at my state school had each a skirt I coveted A LOT (you know who you are). They were 1950's fabric and style skirts (after all, this was early 60's) and had either dogs or cats around them in a 1950's painterly style. I thought they must have been rich to have such beautiful skirts. They, as it happened, thought we were rich because we had new clothes all of the time, which was actually the result of having a tailor for a grandmother and coming from a long line of milliners and tailors and so on who set the pace for splendid fashion.

Anyway, now I'm making my new twin dresses even better than those coveted skirts. At least just as desirable and moving. It takes me back to that big sighing love I felt at state school. Pics to follow soon!

P.S. Thanks Shula, for the rant and the pat on the back and the you're better than they are and the general friendship. It's not so bad really.

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.

Heads

My bowl of heads has a new friend. One of Mum's faces/heads. Very typically hers. The eyes.

I've had such a ridiculously busy week that there was a day I didn't think of her and when I realised I was overwhelmed with sadness. It's too sad.

Made By My Grandma

Found at Mum's. I remember her making these, even this one in particular. I loved it. All the little yo-yo's... Grandma tried everything.

Wandin Op Shop

I couldn't believe my eyes, and it was last Sunday so I had to write a note to remind Dad. Fortunatley I know one of the ladies who work there and she helped in my scheme to get these. Shocking photo huh? I really should try harder.

Card I Made For Nice Birthday Boy

With handy hints on the inside.

I'm intending to make some to sell, and other product too. Watch this space. This one was made quickly and the paper to write on (where the Superman comic bit is) would be bigger and better placed.

I plucked out a few naughty pages for the inside.