Wigging out in the pen

I keep meaning to blog about this, but I've been really busy and it keeps popping out of my brain. I can't imagine any Canberra people reading only me and not Crazybrave or any other of the fine local dudes who have been proclaiming a blogmeet tonight, but just in case you do... there's a blogmeet tonight.

Details here. And here. and all over. See you there. For a while, at least, before I keel over in exhaustion.

Red hot mamma moment

I spent today (after a lovely sleep-in) working on a design project that has boiled hot and cold for the last four months, and is finally at Deadline stage. So the day was spent tweaking and polishing, and nipping into Facebook to play a bit of scrabulous, then back out for more tweaking and polishing.

I wasn't finished in time to go to the whole of one of Barbara Blackman's periodical soirees (she's a friend of BB and his family), but I dropped in towards the end to pick up BB, who was ruddy and jolly from lashing of champers, and caught a fabulous blues jam involving Tony Hill (a writer who can play a mean piano) and classic jazz and blues belter Madam Pat.



If you look closely, you can see M. Pat reflected in the piano. She is 84 years old, in a wheelchair, but can still belt out a low growly hot mama blues better than anyone I've heard.

I sat beside the piano, absolutely thrilled and mesmerised. I tried to video her to record the sound, but the piano drowns her out and I was too shy to sit next to her with the camera rolling.

Magical. Twenty minutes of her singing that I will never forget. Ever.

Tired AND emotional, in the truest sense

Last night I had a lovely time. Dinner with two of Best Beloved's oldest friends, who were in town for one day only on a home visit from England, and then a liquidy visit to the launch of Artwranglers, an enterprise supporting both Zoe and I financially (she did the blog, I did the stationery), where I met and had a lovely drunken chat with Peter Fay about the melancholy freakiness of limited edition premmie dolls.

Today I woke up a touch squidgy. But. I am professional. So I got to school early and set up the press for a day of printing the aforementioned Wanted Posters. We (a very keen student and I) printed them all day, letting people make up their own crimes and set their own names. I didn't get time to make spare ones for helpful bloggers, but I will do another session next week, because they're too much fun not to share. Those who suggested things and want a poster had better email me their postal address.

Here's a selection of 'crimes' I managed to remember to photograph:


We used the same large words with varying leader sentences at times, depending on the preference of the purchaser...



...like this. This is the combined name of a couple of collaborative printmakers.



This was requested by an obviously long-suffering girlfriend.



Made for The Shopping Sherpa in person, who blogged about the experience here



Requested by an academic's wife



And this one I made for Bumblebee. Happy to recreate it for other parents.


Others I didn't get a chance to shoot were: CRIMES AGAINST HIS SISTER, INCORRIGIBLE ACTS OF GAMING, REPEATED ACTS OF HERESY, HEINOUS CRIMES OF FASHION and OBSESSIVE USE OF FACEBOOK (made for a student!). There were others but my brain hurts. Anyhoo, on with the story.

We printed solidly from 10am to 4pm. And then at 4.10, as we were cleaning up, Best Beloved looked at one of them and said 'Oh!'

I know that 'Oh!' noise very well, and my heart sank. It was a typo. Hopefully it was a typo in one of the customised bits. But no. It was a big typo of an omitted word and it was on every. frigging. poster. we'd. printed. all. day...

OH NOES!

And NO ONE picked it up or mentioned it if they did.

GAH.

All the fun of the day just flopped and I felt stupid and tired. And my feet ached.

BB and I went to the movies straight after, which was a good idea because it gave my feet time to stop throbbing and was something to distract me from feeling grumpy. We saw This is England.

[*clasps hands*] oh golly, you have to see that movie. It's horrendous and poignant and funny and ... and... and the music is great. The last scene had me weeping into my sleeve to hide my face. I hate it when they turn the lights up 2 seconds after the credits start. There's no time to really react to an ending. In The Lives of Others I was so riveted I couldn't cry until it was absolutely all over, and even with the lights up I sat there and bawled, to the consternation of my fellow travellers, known and unknown. Turning the lights up fast is mean-spirited. There's a lot of that about these days.

It was an emotional rollercoaster. I came out utterly drained emotionally after being drained physically. Then we got takeaway and ate it in front of Dr Who, which pulled me through the mangle AGAIN. I don't have another drop of water in me, honestly. I feel pulled in all directions. Even The Sideshow couldn't make me smile, although that's actually not unusual. I watch it for the acts it showcases, not the inbetweeny bits.

I'm about to go to bed, and hope that tonight the cats will NOT use me as a parking station, as they have done for the last few nights. I woke up a couple of days ago with my arm around Mr Pooter (he'd wriggled under the covers) and Mr Padge sitting squarely on my chest, purring deep vibrations through me, after giving me dreams of being buried alive under an earthquake. They seem to think I'm very relaxing...

Wanted: you to come to this

We're all buzzing at art school, preparing for Open Day on Saturday.

I put together this:



And on Saturday I plan to print as many odd crimes as I can, including Sedition.

Any suggestions?

Open Day: 25 August, 10am to 4pm, and all the workshops will be doing something: Painting, Printmedia, Sculpture, Ceramics, Glass, Textiles, Wood/Furniture, and Gold & Silversmithing. Something for everyone...

POSTSCRIPT
So far we have CRIMES OF: SEDITION, REGICIDE, PASSION, OMPHALOSKEPSIS (yes, you'll have to look that one up, like I did)
and CRIMES AGAINST: FASHION, HUMANITY, HYGIENE

Did I mention that any suggestions will be printed in the slow moments with the name of the commenter and sent to them?

ERTAM

I'm going to pick up Christy's general tag and do the EIGHT RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME meme, as if my memory isn't random enough and just in case you feel I don't talk about myself enough :) I'm sitting in my art school office waiting for Bumblebee to be dropped off after circus school (thank goodness for car pooling) and all my scrabulous games are waiting for other people, so here goes. (Apologies if I've written any of this stuff before. I told you my memory is random.)

1. I hate tight things around my neck. This ties in with hating to wear anything that makes me think about it while I wear it: tight/high shoes, tight bras, things that cut in under the arms, g-strings. I try to be comfortable at all times and I tend to wear things I can run in.

2. I hate to run. But I'm prepared for the need to.

3. When I think about walking on a sloping roof or a high slippery place, the soles of my feet tingle (they're doing it now).

4. I love romantic comedies. It's the girliest thing about me, and something I feel a vague sense of shame about, thanks to the pre-lipstick feminism that I inherited from my auntie godmother (see also points 1 & 2). Doesn't stop me from watching them.

5. I went to Kirwan High in Townsville for a while. Also Randwick High in Sydney. I went to a lot of schools, actually.

6. I always knew I would be a single mother. I didn't think I would ever find a man I wanted to stay with for a lifetime. The jury is still deciding on that one. (Don't worry, we're still in love! But a lifetime is hopefully a LONG time.)

7. I feel all sparkly on days when I physically make something that isn't a bed or a meal. Books and prints usually fit the bill.

8. I can't live without a novel beside the bed. But you knew that.

Have a go if you feel like it.

TTFN

A bit of topicality

I just rang my credit card provider to cash in some reward points (movie tickets, of course) and was offered twice the amount of credit that I have now (which is VERY modest). When I refused, the man on the other end sounded positively miffed and was very cold to me for the rest of the phone call. I felt like giving him a mini-rant about personal credit overloads and the crisis currently hitting the States. Not that it would have made any difference. I feel shitty about getting rewards for spending money; I'd rather be rewarded for NOT spending money, but that seems to have gone out of fashion...

And I'm hearting Kevin at the mo, and loving the lack of fight in the Liberal creche about Kev's big breasty adventure. Last night on the news I could feel all the glass houses trembling slightly, but no stones were thrown. Let them only try, and see what crawls out into the light among all the glass shards...

Best Beloved was in Broome last night, cuddling crocodiles apparently. Tonight he is in Darwin, and will travel all abouts there. He's loving his job because he gets to travel all around Australia, and has a Quaintarse map that he uses to cross off all his flights. He's crossed off about half of what they offer so far. Bumblebee and I are quite enjoying his times away; we get to revisit our single parent days...

Remember to breathe

... especially when you're 84 like sculptor Jan Brown, who made most of the objects you can see in this photo. Except for the Christmassy thing at the front and the real bird looking in at the window, which Jan and I found highly amusing when I popped in to see her last week. I've mentioned Jan before; walking into her loungeroom is sometimes quite unnerving because of all the birdy eyes looking your way.

Anyhoo, this birdy arrangement is for Sacha, my lovely bird-loving friend in Brisbane who has had the most revolting few weeks, including the sudden death of one of her beautiful (and young) cats. And for anyone else who needs well-wishing. I wish you well.