Lush is lush

It's undeniable that Lush is prolific. I also think he is cool. I believe it's a widely held opinion yet when I declare it publicly there is frequently a strong sentiment in the other direction, like "Lush is a *tool*" or "fuck i *hate* Lush". That he evokes such emotion confirms for me that he is an artist (and is cool). His mediums are Lushness and Controversy. I am still pondering the eternal "what is art?" and I just reckon at this stage that it happens between the creative act and the viewers response. These pictures - I am not even certain are lush as someone has told me he is in LA. I will do a part 2 to this blog complete with links and a range of Lush works, in the meantime, waddya reckon? Is it him? Lush Cat obviously yes but the rest ? Regardless I am loving it!

Daily bread on a Monday

It is a great day for art in Fitzroy

Daily Bread - it's great to be back

Just met the Artist who did the faces of the two old ladies that popped up a while ago. They've been at work creating round the traps this side of town and in windsor. Here's a sneak peak !

Hail goes to Venice

Daniel P Jones, Danny, is an articulate, slightly barrel chested man with big silver-grey hair. His pastel blue eyes have a sadness in them that wells as he talks of his life, his love of Leanne and toeing the line at Pentridge. He describes himself as a thief with a moral code and it's a fair call. He promises to sign my photo. Later he recites Oscar Wilde better than anyone I have heard, to a captivated audience. He tells me that he discovered Oscar out of a desperation to survive prison, and in the end he used Oscar as a medium for expression, reciting to inmates in the yard, guards looking on perplexed. Danny and director Amiel Courtin-Wilson have an obvious bond which has seen them take Danny's story to Cannes and now, to Venice. I must spruke this fundraiser and this exquisite story. Check them out on Facebook, and donate (and online) . This is the first Australian feature film in a decade to make it to Venice, and it's basically a bloody awesome achievement.

Artist's name - Zoe. Fish's name - Glen.

Darwin is HOT right now...literally (yes journo friends, I mean that) and metaphorically in the way really cool stuff is hot.  If you have a vague feeling you might eventually make it to the 'top end', make it coincide with the Darwin Festival. The build up is threatening to begin but its not quite here.  Its an even 33 degrees and the sky is blue, albeit with a dull haze from burn offs.
I am not going to be able to throw myself completely into this festival, although I am already planning 2012.  I have been fortunate enough, however, to find a moment for quiet reflection over 100 years 100 portraits, and to find some unexpected relief by way of a cool breeze and sweet prints blowing in the wind.
Festival aside there is something else you need to know about Darwin: the street art is sensational!

Daily Bread (live from Adelaide)

I love Radelaide.  People reel at my suggestion that Adelaide is awesome, but don't judge so quickly.  It really is the cool little brother of Melbourne.  If you are in Adelaide check out Joshua Smith's Espionage Gallery.  That's it for the lecture.  Nursing a mild headache courtesy of a winemaker with a generous hand, I bring you your daily bread.  Radelaide style: Spelt bread with runny cheese, Porcini salt, quince paste and washed down with a fine drop of red ...

Daily Bread - Baked not Fried

A misty morning, Ben Lee (out of his depressive phase) and sublime pieces.

Love this!!! nufevahs life: rebel for happyness

nufevahs life: rebel for happyness: "on Philippe Petit : Life should be lived on the edge of life. You have to exercise rebellion: to refuse to tape yourself to rules, to refu..."

Daily Bread (sometimes delivered weekly)

The Hanky Project

I cannot hang this post on a photo. Well, I could, but within a minute of meeting Julie Barratt I knew that I wouldn't. Nor can I start this post with the first "photo-less" idea that I had. That's about someone else's story, someone else's grief. What Julie has managed to achieve in the Hanky Project gives me goosebumps. Motivated by her own loss, she invited others to submit representations of their grief and loss, on Hankerchiefs. It turns out that the Hanky transgresses age, generation, class, gender and culture. This is obvious when you walk into the room and see Hankies from all sorts of people, in all sorts of places, many being the Hanky of their loved one.

That the exhibition has found itself in the Napier Hotel is a personal fluke that I find extraordinary. This is Anna's pub. I didn't know her, but people that I love farewelled her in the very room this exhibition occupies. A lot of grieving has occurred within the four walls of the Napes. I will never forget the sadness hanging over the pool table on the tenth anniversary of Anna's death (and being kicked out well after the tired bar staff were supposed to close). For someone with an obsession about time and space, I am transfixed by this coincidence.

But back to the Hanky Project: Just Go See It. Julie has collected, on Hankies, the most intimate stories of 100 artists from 12 countries. The stolen generation, children, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, friends. Their stories fill Hankies that are hung loose, pinned up, folded, encased in boxes and dripped in resin. They have been written on, cross stitched, stained, painted and reinvented. "This is the last thing that he touched" reads one. "Permission to cry" suggests another. Precious Little's eloquent words adorn the walls: "I visited your old room yesterday, where the furniture still dimples the carpet with its absent weight". She has a Hanky of her own.

I do cry. What would my Hanky say? "Suze opened her eyes briefly in the hour that I sat looking upon her and I leapt into that last connection like she was a pool of water and I was on fire".

Pie in the Sky

It's unexplainable the joy of stumbling upon magic Art in unlikely places