pulled pork sliders and brioche fucking buns

I haven't spent a lot of time in Fitzroy of late. So please someone tell me when the fuck did the choice narrow to Meatballs, Sausages Or Burgers served by a shitster (shithouse looking hipster)? Thankfully there is still a welcome reprieve in the lanes behind the exposed brick, incandescent semi industria fucking nightmare of Brunswick Street, 2015

 

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Barek Barek Barek Barek Barek Barek Barek Barek Barek Barek Barek Barek

       

Barek sneak preview

okay save the date, date to be confirmed, this flasher needs to sort their software out but in the meantime a teaser of what's in store after an afternoon watching Barek make can work look like crayons ...

 

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Not Pretty Enough (bei mir bist du shayn)

I lived in St Kilda when Muso's and artists were moving on, paving the way for grunge to evolve into cool. They left the gays and Jews to cohabit in a blissful marriage of tradition and experimentation: The 1990's. It was all designer runners, comic teeshirts, 3/4 denim, warehouse parties, Midsummer, Miss Candy, The Palais, Russian bakeries.

To fireworks, dance music and Calvin Kleins (the pills not the jeans) the new millennium was welcomed. The Y2K bug didn't destroy us, but the new era killed St Kilda. The place soon became so cool it was hot, and it melted into one big festering mess of poo-beige.

The pretty people demanded nicer amenities, the removal of the prostitutes from each street corner, a clean up of Blessington Street, and a curfew on noise. They wanted a gentrified St Kilda. A nice place to raise designer kids and irritating dogs...or was it designer dogs and irritating kids? 

The old Jews survived the most horrendous experience of the holocaust, arrived on our shores, and built this wonderful city. Then they not only existed but thrived through it's darkest days, its hard days and its party heydays, to be left with this...Meh.  Nudne.*

Which brings me, of course, to Fitzroy this week... bushland? FFS!!!?! 

"... Cr Fristacky said she would have preferred a mural of scenery of bushland or the Abbotsford Convent. "I would say [the Sofles piece] is OK in a magazine or a book. But in public art I have my reservations."

Read more: http://www.theage.com.au/entertainment/art-and-design/trouble-brewing-fitzroy-street-mural-could-be-censored-20140828-109h1w.html#ixzz3BqNMTxkB

To see the offending Adnate Sofles Smug collab check out Dean's page 

 *Apologies for bad, inappropriate or offensive Yiddish I am just a Goy

Beer Bottles of Fitzroy / Flasher does DRY JULY

I hate beer. I hate the taste, the smell and the feeling of being pissed on it. It is, however, the drink of choice for many a dude stumbling back to his mates car from the dubiously licensed venues on Brunswick St.

     

The change in Brunswick St before 9.30 pm and Brunswick St post 9.30 pm is immeasurable. As all locals know, it is remarkable how funny a very un-funny dickhead can think he is at 2.00 am in the middle of Kerr St, or Argyle, or Westgarth.

        

I am not going to apologise if you are reading this and happen to be a 38 year old man called Steve/Damo/Jeza from Glen Waverley, with one Code Male "good shirt" and really long pointy pseudo brogues. Stop wearing that shit it looks really bad, and stop pissing on our doorsteps it stinks. Seriously your girlfriend/wife Tanya/Belinda/Stace will thank me. 

        

If you are part of the younger generation that live in your parents investment units in The (bullshit) Artist, I also implore you to reconsider your 5.00 am balcony chats. I don't care if Thomas will get his second wind, I just want you all to shut the fuck up. Smoke a cone and chill in your lounge rooms in silence. 

      

Honestly, this is not me being all gentrified, moving in and demanding a clean up. I love our traditional owners, our institutional cafe's, our artists, our yummy mummies, our spare change seekers, our druggies, our oldies and our hipsters. But you, my rowdy fellows, please put your empties in a bin and exit with your dignity intact.

Perhaps I am a little grumpier than usual. It is Dry July and I am doing it and it is FUCKING KILLING ME. But the cause is good. Dry July is a fundraiser that this year seeks to raise money to improve the quality of life and access to health services for those who have cancer. Better services = better quality of life, more dignified assistance and for some it will mean living well, longer.  The crew I am raising the dollars for is the Andrew Love centre in Geelong. They are awesome. I have first hand experience of a family members treatment there. 

       

The most important reason, or inspiration that I have, is The Mr Ben Naz. There is no one quite like him. At all times he has his head held high, and bucket loads of tenacity. One of those brave few who raises money for cancer (F*ck You Cancer, London) when they are coping with their own battle. He curated a show FFS. No-one has shown me what it is to fight in any way greater than this man. I could go on and on and on. 

So yeah, if you could just donate the cost of a drink that you will forego, even you bastards I have named, shamed and humiliated in this post, drop me a line. I will send you a link to my donation page. Which is in my real name, so there is another element of Dry July that I am braving. Sponsor me, find out who I am, pay props to Ben, and stick your finger up to cancer.  

On the fourth day of Christmas our Kaff-eine rocked dope art

Thank you streetadvent.com for this project because it gives me pause to reflect on the awesome work done by each of the artists this year.  An especially big THANK YOU to the artists for making it really easy to take great pics.  Actually, any photo of any of your work looks cool by default.  THANK YOU to my fellow fanatics (Vetti, ArtyGraffarti, Street Tart, Dean Sunshine) who chase these artists down and chase my tail.  You keep me on my toes and buoy my enthusiasm.  And THANK YOU finally, goes out to Kaff-eine, for your reminder that this event had even started (I would have lived in November forever) and the tip off so I could sneak a pic before I headed into oblivion again!

This post has not been Instagrammed

I am not sure if I can blame Instagram, the dreaded lurgy or chaos, but I just haven't had the rhythm lately.  I feel a bit like Steve Martin in The Jerk (NB in my first version of this post I called him Steve Murray if that gives you a sense of the gravity of my problem) .  I have been walking past great Art (such as Anthony Lister on Westgarth Street) and thinking "I'll come back to that when my battery is charged".  I have been taking shots  of tiny stickers only to realise that I focused on the brick next to them, or worse, that they are the label of a softdrink the dude just purchased at Coles.  I have been so busy instagramming everything  (that really cool green bike on Brunswick street is a particular Fav) that I have been forgetting to upload to Flickr.

Enough about me and my woes, in among it I have found some fresh, new and very decent art.  Here is some of the Rad and inspiring shit that I have actually managed to notice lately...

Kaff-eine is rocking out some amazing new characters 

Makatron, I presume - he's commissioning all over Fitzroy 

Outside the Juddy Roller, new Cafe, the owner attracting the  best street artists in the country

Ishi 1 (?) found this slightly too late but it is still amazing