Sunday, April 13, 2008
Life is a Highway
The Artswipe was pulled over by a police officer working the beat last week. I should have expected it really - how long can I go without being pulled over for using a mobile phone while driving? This may be the end of The Seatbelt Series, kids. Let this be a public safety message: don't make art with your mobile phone while driving at the same time.
Despite the rumours, not all cops accept bribes and blow jobs.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Buffy, not a Heather


The Artswipe watched Law and Order: Criminal Intent last week just because the plot rip-offed the Anna Nicole Smith story. Kristy Swanson was the actress playing the facsimile of Anna Nicole (who in Criminal Intent was a fat white whale named Lorelai Mailer). Kristy was my idol when I was about seventeen-years-old and was the original Buffy, before Sarah Michelle Jessica Parker Posey took over the tiara. Or whoever it was.
It's always pissed me off that the Buffy TV show was so popular. I remember talking to an academic once who wrote a paper on Buffy as a metaphor for pre-Oedipal nipple envy. I'm not sure if I got that right, but it sounds good. But really, Buffy on TV was a bunch of turds, whereas Buffy the movie was a basket of kisses. And it was all because of Kristy. She wasn't quite as talentless as Heather Graham; not quite as "Amanda" as Heather Locklear; but Kristy Swanson was like a "Heather" - the kind of chick who embodied the blow-waved rich-bitch archetype who we all wanted as a "friend or a fuck", to quote from the legendary Heathers (1989).
Anyway, Kristy Swanson is a method actress to be reckoned with! She put on all this weight and channeled Anna-Nicole in a way that gave me goose-flesh, as the Americans say. I've never been quite the same since. The lingering question since watching Criminal Intent is: Why wasn't Kristy Swanson a bigger star?
Well, as they say in the classics (and on suburban church marquees): Answers to Life's Big Questions Can't Be Googled.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Peripatetic Poems

Mobile phone art
Thanks to everyone for admiring my mobile phone photos. These are two taken in the last week. One of the pavement near my house. The other in the car park of the gym where I should probably have a life-time membership.
Together I think these photos tell a story.
I will be back with some writing within the next week. I'm not making a TV show like The Artlife so I don't have an excuse. But I've always believed that if you don't have anything to say that you should shut the fuck up (or take photos).
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Dry Me Kangaroo Down, Sport
Welcome to the month of May, I have really nothing to say. So here's a picture I took yesterday in the toilets at work while drying my hands. It can be awkward enough finding yourself in the toilets with a colleague, making small talk and all. It can be harder to fathom when they come to work dressed as kangaroos and emus.
Mufti Days have never been my forte.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Cultural Currency

The Artswipe has really been getting into the suburbs lately. Who hasn't? It's the suburbs where you're gonna find that piece of literary gold or visual motif that just ties you're whole oeuvre together - you know - culturally speaking. Actually no, I don't know what I mean, but cultural currency is very now, and I hear it's all taking place in the suburbs. Or at least it's in suburbia where you could stop someone in the street and ask if they know what cultural currency actually is. Just to prove a point, I stopped a little old woman on the street and asked her if she knew. Poor old dear just gave me some spare change. Bless her cotton socks.
Cultural Currency (Hard to Breathe) 2007
Mobile phone memory
Going down on the South has always been a dream unrealised. So yesterday I took a trip down to Cronulla Beach, in Sydney's southern suburbia badlands aka the Sutherland Shire. It's been years since I've had a Chiko Roll on the white sand dunes of Cronulla, had a surf with the old gang, used the old metal detector to find a quick buck. Oh those were the days. But wait, there's also those times I avoided being raped in a carpark by a pack of guys expelled from Northies pub for being too drunk - overhearing them referring to each other by their nicknames: Whopper, Tyson-T, Mad Cunt - was almost enough to make me beg them for it! Christ, the Chiko Roll gets a bit fucking boring after awhile.
The Artswipe
Cultural Currency (Ride) 2007
Mobile phone memory
Memories fade. There's only the here and now. Or Eternity by Calvin Klein if you're, like, in a real hurry and don't have time for past or present. So I'm at Cronulla reminiscing about the old days. I've got my old tapedeck with me. You know the ones which take about ten double D batteries and has separate play and record buttons, which have to pressed simultaneously to record your favourite song. Don Henley's Boys of Summer was one of them back in the day. Today it's just the news. And what news it was! A tsunami warning and the beach is evacuated. I'd expected at best a little race rioting - but a tsunami - who knew?! "Ocean beaches along Australia's east coast have been closed after the Bureau of Meteorology issued a tsunami warning today. Coastal areas from northern Queensland to eastern Tasmania were placed on alert after a large earthquake which measured 8.1 on the Richter scale jolted the Solomon Islands this morning. All of Sydney's ocean beaches have been closed," as one report noted.
Cultural Currency (Car Parks Aren't Safe) 2007
Mobile phone memory
The jaunt down memory lane didn't exactly last long enough to help solve the cultural currency riddle. I could stay on the beach and maybe drown with a tsunami that's bound to probably suffer a bout of performance anxiety, which is in fact what happened as it didn't reach Australian shores. Shopping malls always make great places to seek shelter from disappointment, an apocalypse or your usual garden variety zombie infestation. George Romero knew it when he made Dawn of the Dead. Following his lead, I made my way to Miranda Fair. It was there I learned that cultural currency has a uniform. A white t-shirt that says "I [heart] The Shire" and a tie featuring the Australian flag. Not the Indigenous one, the other one. You know, the blue one with the Union Jack and a bunch of stars on it. The one flaunted with gay abandon in the front yard of about every second house you pass on the way to the beach. Quick, SMS and say you love me, that you call Australia home, that you'll be there when I need you most. Like the time I could barely breathe through the grief I felt, we all felt really, when the Crocodile Hunter of my [heart] found solace in his own franchise in the sky.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Inventing the Wheel

So the NSW State election is over. Yes, I resisted casting a vote for the Australians Against Further Immigration party. I just can't get behind that. You see, I was handed the 'How to Vote' form and I couldn't get past the letters AAFI. Wondering if this party might not prefer starting a global rumour that Australians Are Fucking Idiots, I decided I'd rather die with shit in my mouth than vote for a party that doesn't understand how the colour wheel of life is, well, the best kind of wheel. (Wagon Wheels are good too).
After seeing this poster on a church-like building near where I voted, I started thinking more about colour - both in racial and aesthetic terms - and decided I would start my own Artswipe campaign to make immigration more important than ever before, if only to annoy the white type of Aussie Christians who take it upon themselves to create hybrid faiths that link cultural intolerance with religion and bad banner making. Then again, I haven't seen a pink church before. (Actually I'm not even sure if it is a church). Being that pink is so charged in meaning for chicks, fags and the occasional metrosexual, maybe we can give this little church - or whatever it is - the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps we should all inject cultural difference with a fresh coat of pink paint. Maybe this was not, after all, a church of the poison mind. And maybe, just maybe, it was not populated with a true blue crew of white washed rednecks adorned in green and gold.






