Editor, knitter, recidivist art student
Having a blogging break. May/may not update the website during the next several weeks/months. Sure to see some of you around the traps…maybe even in person. Wouldn’t that make a nice change?
Got more toycam photos back today. Very, very pleased—not only several good laundry-line photos…
Laundry day
…but some unexpected photo archeology.
Gram, ca. 1996
This photo came from a roll of undetermined age & origin—I found it lurking at the bottom of a camera bag. It had been exposed and sealed up, but over time the seal had come loose, so some of the film had obviously suffered some light leaks. I thought I’d give it a go and see what came up.
Well, here we have a pic of my-then 83-year-old grandmother, taken with my Holga the morning my sister and I left for a road trip to Santa Fe. So, so happy to find this one. Best picture I have of her, I think.
Let me pause to sing the praises of the Camera House in the Central Market, without whose careful handling this image may not have been recovered.
I should write something, shouldn’t I? But strangely, for maybe the first time in my life, I find myself with nothing to say. I’ve been…
making badges and cupcakes with the kids…
Sorry, cupcakes all gone
buying alphabet stamps (and if anybody sees any good sets around, pls don’t hesitate to let me know!)…
alphabet soup is yum
taking photos with my Diana (more as soon as the photo shop gets the scanning right)…
hey diana, i've really got to learn to take a tip from you
drinking morning coffee from my local caffeine dealer (what a blessing to have them set up shop right across the street from the kids’ school!)
going to the Melbourne aquarium to see the penguins, forgetting to bring a good camera but perhaps enjoying myself more because of it…
penguins!
enjoying lots of tea…
too much tea, must drink
cooking more (un petit cookbook projet might perhaps be on the burner, oui), and…
spending too much time on Facebook.
(Ah, the truth will out.)
Back in Art School Round 1, I used to struggle a bit with photography. My old Nikkormat FT2, given to me by my father, was a Good Camera (and I hope whoever bought it off the crim who stole it from my Queens apartment in 1993 appreciated it).
I took a few good pictures here and there, but I wasn’t a good enough (or diligent enough) photographer to get consistently Good Pictures out of it. In fact, most of the photos I loved best were the happy accidents: blurry or malcoloured or in some way ‘wrong’. (There’s nothing like a roll of slide film processed like colour negatives!)
And I still love Bad Pictures (see here). Not that I have anything against good photographers. Some of my best friends are good photographers. But I’m never going to be one of them.
So last week, inspired by a recent DIY photo workshop at the Adelaide Fringe, I took another step away from the tyranny of the Good Camera: I bought a “cheap” Diana. (I know, I could have made a pinhole camera, but I’m lazy.) The hardest thing about using it is waiting a week to get my negs back from the photo shop!
The first film I ran through it was some old T-Max given to me by a photo editor at Rolling Stone (which should give a clue as to how frick’n old it is). And it was outdated when she gave it to me, tho only just. And just to ensure I couldn’t shoot any Good Pictures on it, I loaded it in ordinary daylight, forgot to set the focal distance accordingly, underexposed it, held the shutter open kind of indiscriminately, and asked the shop to push the developing.
You know what, I’m thrilled with it! It vignettes so prettily. And it does nice things to boring old 35mm film too. I can’t wait to try out the pinhole setting.
I am, by the way, obsessed with drawing, painting and photographing my largely unimproved 1950s backyard, especially my clothesline. Expect more along these lines. And if anyone reading has any outdated film of any kind that they would like to donate, please sing out! I’m sure we can come up with some kind of swap.
I believe the word is ‘recidivist’? Yep, I’m back at art school. On again, off again.
Specifically, I’m right off the overly thinky stuff in the master’s program. What I really wanted was to get my hands dirty—make art, not talk about it so much. So I’m in TAFE, in the BA. And at the rate I’m going, it could well take me five years to complete the degree I didn’t finish in the late 80s. But whatever. I’m doing art again. I’m happy.
This term, it’s figure drawing. Doesn’t look like great shakes, but it’s a world apart from the drawing I used to do when I was in art school round 1 (when I was ostensibly more on top of my game than I am now). I don’t know if I see things differently now, but one thing’s sure—I’m not so a’skeered of making a mess.
Got an invite today to a lecture that is part of a long-running series in which different artists talk about their work. The opening line is:
“M—- Y—’s work encompasses a plurality of media.”
Crikey. Language like this brings to mind a multitude of many things I’d like to say, and a myriad of most of them are snarky.
I think we can safely rule out the possibility that this particular artist’s work really is made up almost entirely of all media. We might need to consider the fact that the artist’s first language may not be English. But even allowing for both of those things, personally, I’d have gone for “M—- Y— is a multimedia artist.”
Then there’s the title of the lecture series, which is Artistspeak. That’s just too handy for me. I keep wondering who came up with it. Was it a deliberate reference to Orwell’s Newspeak or just ‘hey, here’s a hip phrase the kids’ll like!’ Or both?
With the Fringe Festival on in Adelaide, there are lots of fliers whizzing around, lots of shows and exhibits and all kinds of arty whatnot going on. Naturally, there is lots of bad art writing, too, which never fails to amuse. Recently I got a really funny invite announcing some kinda goofy video installation/performance art bizzo:
JUNK BONDS: Video / Performance / NO RULES
This is immediately followed by:
BE PROMPT, SUPPORT YOUR PEERS, LET’S DE-INSTITUTIONALISE THIS INBRED CITY!
CAKES / REFRESHMENTS PROVIDED
So, let me get this straight:
Hey all you leftoid wingnut punk bastards, let’s tear this town a new arsehole! Fuck the rules! Yarrr! But do please try to be on time, and would you like milk or sugar in yer cuppa, darl?
I’m not quite able to explain how, but this is Adelaide in a nutshell.
I was unsurprised to receive an email this morning from O’Reilly publications announcing that the current issue of CRAFT magazine is the last print edition.
The magazine’s ‘team’ cites the usual issues to do with production costs and an advertising downturn. But I see another side to it: CRAFT mag, over several issues, has become an hommage to the US-centric cult of craft rather than a proponent of actual craftsmanship.
The current issue’s cover features ‘ultimate party hostess and crafter’ Amy Sedaris (who?) wearing a rictus grin and dressed up like June Cleaver on crack her prom night. Inside, she shows us over a two-page pictorial spread how to make an ugly cake out of a box mix. Seriously? I am already really good at making ugly cakes. The editor assures us this is funny, but it doesn’t translate. It’s all kind of mind-boggling in its weird stupidity.
I can’t help thinking that those pages would have been better off allocated to the same issue’s feature on the rather more complex and lovely craft of bookbinding. But the fact that they’re not clearly illustrates the difference between the cult of craft and craftsmanship (and also, that humor is easily lost in the gap between them).
I’ve always been torn between the idea that it’s good for everyone to try their hand at making things, and the fact that applauding any effort at handmade actually devalues good craftsmanship.
I recognise that there are good reasons for making things besides aiming for perfection, but I’m not a cheerleader. Not all craft is good craftsmanship. I mean, there’s a reason some handmade items get relegated to the op shop while others go to live in the museum. And there’s a reason some magazines live while others…go digital.
There’s so much I want to say about the Victorian bushfires this week. Much of it, for me, goes back to what I was writing when SA had its heatwave—that we all need to stop talking about making changes to our lifestyles, and start making them: “If this is the way is is going to be, our choice is to leave, or to adapt.”
And by “we” and “all” I mean not just Australians. Folks down here haven’t made the climate change by itself. My feeling for a long time has been that Australia is the canary in the world’s coalmine, and I recently learned that there’s reason to feel this way: “Australia has been identified in a number of studies…[as] the developed country most at risk from the adverse impacts of climate change.” (Dr David Karoly on Lateline, 10 Feb, read full transcript here.)
Tragedy seems to nuture community spirit—it certainly has in this case. You get the feeling that all Australia is wanting and trying to help. (Some flooded-out Queenslanders are even asking that their relief payments go to Victoria; that’s pretty inspiring.) I hope that we can draw on that kind of spirit to make the changes we need to make. I hope we can set an example for others too.
Now that I’m relatively acclimatised to the extended heatwave we’ve been having, I can see one of the positives of this weather: my family eats healthier.
To help keep the kitchen cool, I tend to prepare food that’s fresh and lightly cooked food or, better yet, raw. (Also, and more about this in a minute, local.) And, to avoid multiple trips to the market in the heat, very little goes to waste.
As I was finishing my early-morning shopping at the local fruit & veg shop last week, a delivery of freshly baked crusty bread arrived. Even in the heat, the smell of fresh bread is powerful. I bought two loaves. We ate one at dinner that night, and the other quickly mummified on our counter in the next day. (Between the heat and preservative-free recipe, the bread didn’t stand a chance.)
But dry, hard bread is great for bread salad. Saw off the crust (and, if space permits, freeze the bits for awesome croutons when soup weather comes), hack the bread into smallish chunks, and then toss with squashy tomatoes, ripped-up basil, and a few glugs of olive oil plus one of white balsamic vinegar. Salt & pepper, then toss roughly with your hands, and set aside until dinner. Or do a Nigella and tuck in straight away.
Now, about the locally grown angle. I was able to make today’s bread salad using mostly ingredients from within 20 km (15 miles or so) of my home. All the rest (including the oil, vinegar and even the wheat from the bread) make it under the 100-mile mark.
South Australia is an amazing place for eating well and eating local—and I was extremely pleased to see the national newspaper acknowledge this in an article on the weekend: ‘Apart from the south of France and parts of Italy, South Australia is unique in the range of produce available within a relatively short distance.’
In spite of the heat, I do feel lucky to live here. Now, if only we could get Queensland to share the water and stop growing cotton with it.
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