The Multi-

Tasked?! Talented?! Personalitied?!

As with the other day, again I hadn't shot the whole roll while on location. Though I think there may have been a fairly deliberate decision made on this occasion.

I kind of enjoyed that last experience - tripoding the camera, setting focus, using cable release, not really knowing what was in frame or in focus.

This time however I triple-exposed the same piece of film. It meant having to walk to the camera, remove the filmback, wind on (cock the shutter really), put the filmback back on, walk back and take the next exposure. So I was never going to be in the same place for all the shots.

It's kinda weird. I have done very little intentional multi-exposure. This time I over-exposed the first shot by a stop, then exposed the others at normal. It kinda worked.

I bumped into an old friend the other day. He said that I have a perpetually bemused look on my face. And I think I do when walking around. Due to my brain occupying itself with all sorts of rubbish. But interestingly when I photograph myself I often seem to have a perpetually concerned look.

I'm complex man.

The Boring

Yeah well tell me something I don't know!!

When I heard these were going to be up for six months I was annoyed. And frustrated. Because it's the Council. And there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted three months. Council didn't want to fund that.

Ooh, there's something I didn't know. There's only eight pictures on display. And there we were spending 18 months sorting out 16 images to display. Crikey, we could've saved ourselves 9 months. If only we'd known.

Thanks to Shaz and Gab for pointing me towards the article.

The Crazy

So there's two shots left on the roll, eh. Oooohhh, I know.

There you are, you've come home from spending a couple of hours sharing a windswept landscape with a strong northerly, a bike and a camera. What to do? Get yourself some dinner. Sit down. Do a bit of marking (but not much). Then remember "oh yeah!". So you get up, grab a tripod, sort out the camera and waste those last couple of shots on yourself. Self-absorbed?! ME?!!

There is precedence. Of course.

I like that there's a bit (a very small bit) of the Johnny Rotten coming out of me. And that my hair is a miss - no checking in the mirror first to make sure I was suitably presentable. Nice. And the shadow's kinda cool too.

The Fern

I just posted this on my other blog. It's a slide taken by my Grandfather, George Palmer. That's him at the back of my profile photo.

I love it.

I'm not sure where the blue came from - he certainly wasn't using tungsten film, and none of the other slides have such a heavy colour shift. And I don't think it was my scanning. (I hope it wasn't my scanning!!)

Regardless it reminds me of John Herschel's cyanotypes. Strange that. And more recently the beautiful work of Alexander Hamilton. And, of course, Wayne Barrar's ongoing work - text but no images, one image.

Nice one George.

The Naughty

It’s kinda good doing a paid job.

Cos it means you get your digi camera back from the friend who has been borrowing it for most of the last few months – fair trade cos I’ve had a couple of his Blad lenses for most of the year.

It also means more money in the bank briefly before it’s spent on bills or the car or something equally mundane.

And it means you get to shot some of the graffiti that has been appearing in the neighbourhood over the last couple of months.

Nice.

Some good stuff.

But they need to stop now before it gets boring.

The Cheese

The Pretender

I did something wild and crazy the other weekend.

Something wilder and crazier than I’ve done in a good long while.

I set up a wee lab in the kitchen. And made myself some P. Then went to Newtown to sell it. But nobody bought it cos they thought I was a nark.

Oh hold on. That was my alterego in some cool alternate reality.

I set up a wee lab in the kitchen. And developed myself some film.

Two rolls of 35mm FP4+ which have been sitting on the kitchen table since June waiting for me, and a roll of 120 Tri-X which had been having a tour of the house for the previous 24 hours.

It was kinda wild, kinda crazy, kinda boring, kinda smelly. It has been quite some time since I’ve processed film, and while it doesn’t take much time to get back into the swing of it, it is kinda tedious. Especially when you don’t have a readymade film processing darkroom room where everything is set up and waiting for you.

The 120 stuff I shot on Saturday while pretending to finish my review of Peter Peryer’s latest. I got kinda bored (happens a lot with me) so decided to try and make my own Peryer’s.

I failed miserably. But it was a fun half hour.

Here’s a photo or two.


Here's someone else's thoughts about the Peryer.

As I was writing mine, it occurred to me that in my reviews I never really discuss the merit (or lack thereof) of the art. My logic is that people's tastes are different and a quick flick through the book will tell you whether the art interests you. I just hope I steer some people towards books/artists they may not have previously bothered with.

That, and I wouldn't want to offend anybody by writing something that could be taken to be offensive/patronising/pretentious/opinionated/etc because I would so hate to be accused of being offensive/patronising/pretentious/opinionated/etc.

The Plane

Sometimes you take photos and you're not really too sure why.

Then, after processing and scanning/printing you remember.


That fuzzy, speckly, grainy stuff is grain! Real film grain!!

Not that cheap nasty digital grain that people use to make their digital photos look better.

Nice eh?!

The Unconnected

The DomPost finally published my letter. A week ago. But I missed it then.

It's a shame they cut bits - some really good bits. If you want to read the unabridged version go here.

It was one of those things where I could have written an essay. Criticised the Council for their lack of publicity (thanks Kerry!), criticised the paper for showing no interest in the works, criticised Viv for clearing knowing nothing about Getty images. And, as Steve Rowe pointed out, "Ha ha - brilliant. No mention of the day to day visual pollution - it's easier to block out when it's not 'art'...". Maybe, you know, his lightbox money machines are in some way commenting on this idea.

So now I'm sitting back waiting for Viv to contact me with her $100.

And here's a vaguely random, completely unrelated shot of my torso, displaying coconut paste art.

Oh the joys of parties full of young strangers (some very strange!).

And for something utterly stupid try this. I am variously Tangle Jig Palin, Recoil Mush Palin, Crunk Petrol Palin, and Churn Scorpion Palin. Awesome. Thanks America.

The Reviewed

Tim recently posted this review.

He only posted part of it though.

Here's the rest.

Made In Taiwan

At the screening of Allan Wilson: Evolutionary I saw, Made In Taiwan was also shown. Made by the same production company, Auckland-based George Andrew Productions, this documentary was really a practical demonstration of Wilson’s work. Starring Nathan Rarere and Oscar Kightley, the pair trace their respective family lines (Maori and Samoan) back to a common ancestor, based on DNA analysis.

It screened on TV a couple of years back and I remember being both enchanted and bored. I blame the ads breaking up the flow. There’s no denying that Rarere and Kightley are good, natural, user friendly frontmen, and they revelled in tracing their story.

Their journey took them from some café in Auckland to Rarere’s family at Mahia, then to the Cook Islands to find the departure point of the seven waka, over to Samoa and Kightley’s family, to Vanuatu to compare physical features of various Polynesian and Melanesian races, and finally to Taiwan.

As one of the guys said, Taiwan was much like New Zealand, where the colonial culture had pushed aside the native Taiwanese. Rather than looking ‘Chinese’, native Taiwanese looked Maori. Ignoring what got them there – the DNA results – there was an undeniable physical similarity. Even the language, dance, and arts had similarities. As Kightley said at the end “the Pacific has shrunk for me now.”

Alone Made In Taiwan is a fascinating documentary, one about us as people, as a nation. Together with Allan Wilson: Evolutionary we have a great pairing of two stories every New Zealander should know, and one great man to thank for both of them.

There are also some Film Festival reviews of mine in the mix someplace around here.

Again he missed a couple. For editorial reasons. I got free tickets, I don't care.

But I know you all care greatly about my opinions. Especially my regualar reader who regularly complains that I write too much and don't put up enough pictures.

This post is for you. ;)

I Just Didn’t Do It

It often seems to be the case with Film Festivals that it’s the films I know least about, and maybe don’t even really care about seeing that I enjoy the most; those lacking the weight of expectation. Films like last years’ The Home Song Stories. Admittedly this year has been a quiet one for me film wise but I Just Didn’t Do It falls into this category. As good films should, this both entertains and enlightens.

It appears that opportunist sexual molestation is common on the Tokyo underground. And it also appears the Japanese justice system is anything but just. A young man is accused of touching up a school girl on the train. He declares he didn’t do it, but the officious prosecutors decide that the weight of evidence (i.e. the girl’s testimony) proves otherwise.

There are similarities to a Hollywood John Grisham movie – underdog fitting to protect and defend his innocence when the system is against him, case picked up by well-meaning, over-worked counsel, including the conflicted beautiful young female lawyer, and the wise idealistic partner. Much of the action takes place in the small, sterile courtroom where points are made with none of the flamboyant grandstanding we’d get from their American counterparts.

While it’s not exactly Kafkaesque – after all our underdog does know what he is accused of, and who his accuser is – we do follow the slow progress as the wheels of justice roll. There are similarities to Western judicial systems but there appear to be quite obvious differences too, including the presumption of innocence and the requirement for reasonable doubt. The hearing is spread over eleven sessions in about as many months, with the judge (and juror) changing half way through.

We sit there amazed at the injustice and the wilful involvement of so many who should know better. But then, that’s the role of this movie; to point out the major failings of the Japanese system. It’s not exactly corrupt but it is far from perfect. The final speeches from counsel, and the judgment, have a significance wider than this story. It seems to speak about (in)justice issues worldwide, but the closing shot of the fortress-like Japanese Supreme Court bluntly brings us back, reminding us it’s Japan we’re interested in today.

I Just Didn’t Do It is a slow film, without the (melo)dramatic spectacle we’ve come to expect in courtroom dramas, but the story is compelling and not without humour, and the cast are all superb, particularly the two ‘victims’. It is a classic Film Festival movie, a worthy foreign language film more people should see though this is likely to be your only chance.


The Cool School

The documentary is a difficult film to do well. The last few years has seen a resurgence in the popularity of documentary films but the quality varies greatly. The structure of the film seems to require many of the same elements as with fictional stories – conflict, narrative flow, interesting characters, interesting subject matter etc. Even with all these elements there is no guarantee of a great film.

The Cool School is one such doco. About the LA art scene that grew in the 1950s around Walter Hopps and the Ferus Gallery which he established. It was a story about which I knew nothing and the only artist I was aware of from that scene was Ed Ruscha. I figured it'd be a good education if nothing else.

Hopps spent a decade creating the scene based on the premise that for it to be successful there needed to be:
1) artists to make the work
2) galleries to support it
3) critics to celebrate it
4) museums to establish it
5) collectors to buy it

It's hard to fault his logic. And he set about realising his vision. Growing a pool of artists, giving them somewhere to show (Ferus) and getting people to come and see it. Being of the Beat-generation aesthetic the works tended towards assemblage and abstract expressionism – works that didn't garner huge critical praise at the time, though, not infrequently, they were derided.

Blending recent interviews with the major players and others from the periphery (including Dennis Hopper, Dean Stockwell, John Baldessari and Frank Gehry), and photographs and films from the period, the story is well told. We follow the slow fifteen year trajectory of the scene to its 'overnight' success, and uncover the dramas inherent in the initial struggle and sudden fame. To add to the conflict the film makers put together the first reunion of the (still living) artists in 35 years. Over dinner it appears the old wounds still smart. Ironically the downfall of the gallery came after they looked beyond LA and started showing East Coast artists, starting with Andy Warhol's first show, and later Roy Lichtenstein and Japser Johns.

While the story is interesting in itself and can arguably be read as an allegorical tale about modern art, ultimately, I found it lacking as a film. There was nothing massively wrong with it, I’m just not sure it has added anything to the history of its subject. There is a nice little conceit with colour largely being reserved for showing the art works, but overall there it seems to lack the passion the subject deserved. Where other films have compelled me to discover, or reignited my interest in, their subject, The Cool School left little I wanted to nibble on.

Of course now the Film Festival has left town, you're unlikely to ever get the chance to see these movies. Your life really won't be any the less for it, so I wouldn't fret about it too much.

The Red

From memory this was called Big Red.

It was in the Tauranga Art Gallery. Yes they now have Art in Tauranga.

It was big. It was red.

I took these with Diana. In Jodi's presence. She laughed at me.

The Other End

Please refer to my earlier post for some meaning.

And here's another blogpost you should check out. The photo is like just so amazing!!!

The Cliched

It has been a while since I've actually watched the sun set; since I've actually willed it down (it works!!! just not as fast, or as warm, as I'd hoped). Sure I've been out and about when the sun has gone down, but it's not often it does it for my benefit.

But on Sunday it did, and I just watched it.

And took photos. Of course. On my cellphone. Like this one. Complete with mud/sheep shit splatters.

And this one looking into the sun to backlight my mess of hair.

And this one. Which was actually the scene I was there for. Sort of. Hopefully the film shots will have something better. I took enough of the damned things.

The End

There are times, when wandering around shooting for your upcoming show, that you feel you've exhausted what you were trying to shoot, but still have shots left on the film.

You have three choices.
1) rewind the roll
2) save those shots for another day
3) take photos of random shit to finish the roll

Generally I choose the latter.

This was one of those occasions. If you search here hard enough you'll find some other shots of this place. I met the owner just weeks prior to this fire. Now the place is a favourite haunt of Vic Uni photography students.

The Geeks

I was whisked away to Wanganui last Friday.

Well actually I did the whisking, but it was only organised Thursday night.

I took these geeks to Peter Black's opening.

Bloody photographers.

And this is the backyard of where we stayed.

I can fully recommend it as a place to say in Wangavegas should you need somewhere nice, and cheap.

The Critics

It's taken a long while but finally we have a critic. From today's DomPost.

Naturally I had to defend myself. So, just in case they don't run it, here is my Letter to the Editor.

In response to Viv Turner’s letter of 4 September regarding Courtenay Place Park, I would like to point out that regardless of the worth of the park (though personally I feel it is a more pleasant place without that narrow through road), the purpose of the lightboxes is to present contemporary New Zealand Art in a very public way, and to invite debate about the works, and about art in general.

The first exhibition in the lightboxes consists of photographs by eight new and emerging Wellington artists. The main idea of the exhibition was to represent the breadth and depth of contemporary photography, from portraiture to documentary to landscape to conceptual. While it was never likely to be to everyone’s tastes, I feel it is a strong collection. While we didn’t set out to be contentious we were aware that some images may cause more of a stir than others. The whole process was overseen by the Public Art Panel.

I am the first to admit that there has been a general lack of explanation about the work and why it is there. I suggested that the Curators’ Statement be placed in the park somewhere, but these issues are outside of my control, so it hasn’t happened. It is on the council website however - http://www.wellington.govt.nz/services/arts/publicart/temporary.html.

Just to appease you, you will probably be happy to know that these images will only be up for another few weeks, though whether you’ll like the replacement images I can’t say.

Oh, and I’ll willing take your $100 for pointing out that it is a cow’s tongue photographed by Shaun Lawson.

Andy Palmer
Co-Curator Courtenay Place Park Lightbox Project
Mount Cook, Wellington

The Collector

It’s no secret that I like books. In fact, I like books much more than I like reading them. Sure it’s kinda odd to spend so much money on things you never open. But at least my kids (or whoever is unlucky enough to look after my estate) might be able to make some money out of my little collection.

So it should come as no surprise that, last week, I made my usual pilgrimages to Browsers in Hamilton and to Parsons in Auckland. And I spent some money. And I discovered that Parsons have sold five of the six books of mine they had – with the sixth one on hold. But I wanna know who bought them ... and why.

Jodi was kind enough to take me to a second-hand bookshop in Tauranga too. I made her by Robin Morrison’s Sense of Place. Naturally I bought some books there too.

The most exciting find was the long sought after The New Color Photography for a lot less than I expected to pay for it.

No good home should be without the three volume 1966 An Encyclopaedia of New Zealand, and now, thanks to the Ministry for Culture and Heritage (three Indian typists and $20,000) no good home need be without it, and you can still find the book version around too.

When I got home I went shopping again, and ended up with this lot. I bought the Samuel Butler cos I really liked the cover. It’s one of those books I’ve long meant to read and now I have my own copy I may get around to it one day.

And then yesterday this turned up in the post box. Cool. Thanks Auckland University Press.

This is due out on September 10. With any luck I’ll have the review done by then.

Speaking of reviews, this one has turned up. And David pointed out the nice comments on this review from ages ago. I haven’t responded but have written this.

Thank you Linda and Matt for your comments.

I would like to point out that
1) I do not purport to be an art expert, merely someone very interested in art.
2) I have never suggested that a review is a 'serious critique'.
3) I have never been to art school.

Reviewing is about OPINIONS, and are written so that others may get an IDEA of what the publication/movie/album/show/etc. is like. The reader does not have to agree with the reviewer. The reader can actually form their own OPINION.

It is called “reviewing” because it involves someone offering their own view after having read/seen/heard what they are reviewing. It should not be confused with previewing which involves someone offering their own view generally prior to actually having read/seen/heard what they are previewing.

If reviewing was supposed to be serious critiquing it would be called a critique. I do find it ironic that you dismiss my review by stating that “[o]ne cannot seriously critique a work on their own personal likes and dislikes”, when the lack of objective critiquing of Buchanan’s work was my main problem with the book. And, I suspect, you are doing the exactly the same – basing your view of the book and this review on your own taste, not an objective critique.

I also find it interesting that you are happy to attack me, but make no attempt to argue against the statements/points in my review where I express the failings of this publication. I stated up front that I did not like his art but that didn't stop me attempting to write a balanced piece about the book, as I believe I have done with all of the reviews I have written.

You ask “what has the creator of the work set out to do?, and, How well have they achieved that aim?” Well, I thought I made it quite clear that I found the book clumsy and confused and I couldn't work out exactly what they had set out to do. Therefore they failed.

Can I ask this? What is the point of a book about an artist which doesn't examine the artist's work, that doesn’t explain why they produce the work they do, or talk about more than the surface imagery? Why, when so much of the text is biographical detail, does it miss out a large chunk of Buchanan's life and career as an artist? If this is an attempt at an artist survey why are the works not properly captioned to allow the reader some sense of the artist’s evolution?

I stand by everything in my review, maybe if you re-read it you'll see that I explained my disappointments and was actually hoping to be swayed in my view of Buchanan arts. The fact that I wasn't, I feel, reflects more on the book than it does on me.

It seems churlish to say this, but not everyone has to like the same things, people can legitimately hold differing views. The fact that you disagree with me is your prerogative, but why attack me? Why not attack my message? Clearly you hold a different view to me, yet you make no attempt at argument, resorting to mere invective which really isn’t worthy of this response.

Not sure if I’ll post it there or not. Not sure they’re worth it. But it feels good to write a nicely reasoned ‘up yours’.

So not only am I a collector of books and rejection letters, I am also a collector of online abuse. I am just like so 21st Century, dude.

The Do

My brief roadtrip is over. But I have souvenirs. No cheque for $15,000, but souvenirs. Like this.

And a newspaper clipping from Saturday's Waikato Times. If you have to lose, it's better to lose to work you like.

And some photos. For added proof that I was there.

And one by David of the artist nonchalantly leaning next to his work, exposing his beergut (which is odd considering how little beer he has drunk of late).

I truly appreciate the fact that only one of you commented on my previous post offering congratulations, and that none of you have told me how brilliant I am. Thanks.

There are a couple of TWNCAA related things online at Photoforum (thanks for stealing my image Abby!!), John Hurrell, NZLive, and its own blog (which doesn't seem to be going anywhere).

The Straitjacket

I'm off to Hamilton tomorrow.

For the opening of the Trust Waikato National Contemporary Art Award 2008.

I am one of 30 finalists. In with a chance of winning stuff. Or at least having one or two new people see my work.

It's very exciting. I'd like to invite you to the opening but I can't. It's very exclusive. The show is on until 30 November so you all have a chance of seeing it if you start planning your trip now.

Here's my piece. It's called some came on time, some took a while.

Natasha Conland, the judge, says about it (and the other work she selected):

It shouldn’t be a surprise that this year’s finalists have thrown up some strong contenders in the areas of painting and photography. As diverse as they are to one another, these works articulate an ongoing interest in wall-based image making. Even when the primary motivation is a performative action, a relationship with location or an object, the idea has been resolved on the wall, in the now-neutral format of picture making.

Here's a close up of the little specks of white bottom right.

That's what makes it Art.

That and the complete lack of focus and sharpness.

And that it's printed really big.

I had to create my own font in order to make this image. That's dedication! For a limited time you can download the fonts for free. Cos I know you all want to be able to pretend you write like me.

The Message

Every now and then, well once, I take a camera to work with me and shoot stuff on the way to and from work.

I shot these on the way from. They weren't what I set out to shot, but I decided to take a different route home. A muddy one as it turned out.


All hand-held multi-second exposures. Tripods are for wimps!!

For the past week I've had a friend staying, and I should probably advertise his show so ....

You are invited to the opening of Mixed Messages, an exhibition & installation by Hong Kong-based arist David Boyce. The opening is 5pm to 7pm, Thursday 21st August. David will attend.

Mixed Messages runs until 15th September.

The Things

The stupid things we do for the sake of Art.

Like last Saturday for example. I was having one of those days which just felt productive, doing bits and pieces around the house that needed to be done. Looking out the window I noticed the weather, while changeable, was looking pretty good. Cool, I thought, I can take off and get me some photos – be extra productive

So, after finishing what I was doing, I sorted out the camera (just one this time), layered up, threw the bike in the car and headed to Eastbourne. It was cold (hence the layering) and there was a howling southerly, but I was happy enough to be riding into it knowing I would have an awesome tail wind on the home stretch.

So I headed off, and fairly early on, as expected, got rained on by a passing shower. As I neared my destination – a very exposed bay open to everything the southerly could throw at it – it started to rain (I think), very, very stingy rain. I found slight shelter behind a pile of shingle. Sure enough, within seconds, things settled, so I pulled out the camera, jumped over the shingle and started framing up. Just as the rain came again. Hard, blown parallel by the howling wind. And the light dropped a couple of stops.

I rattled off a couple of shots, moved, rattled off some more. Kinda decided I wasn’t getting the angle I wanted so racked up the monopod above head height and pointed the camera in the vague direction of what I wanted and rattled off more shots. Shooting at f5.6 at 1/4sec in this wind felt like a complete a waste of time, but knowing I only had twelve shots to take, and that both me and the camera were wet enough that a little more water wouldn’t hurt I continued shooting. Then the water did actually start to hurt. Really, really hurt. Hail (I think), blown parallel by the howling wind.

I finished, hurriedly packed up, jumped on the bike, and took off. Naturally as I was heading back to the warmth and dryness of the car, the wind died away, and my hoped for tailwind was non-existent. Fortunately there was no headwind either. But there was more rain.

I got back just on 6pm, cold and wet, changed into what dry clothing I had, and hoped the car heater would give me some feeling in my feet again.

What an awesome trip. An hour and a half of all the elements I love – wind, water, sea, adrenalin, ephedrine. It was choice. And of course I have to go back and actually get a decent shot of the place sometime. Oh well.

The stupid things we do for the sake of Art, eh.

The Pointless

For no good reason here's a double exposed shot I took at the end of last year. For a project that is now shot, but which is waiting to see the light of day. Because I was slack getting a proposal together to show it and now I'm not sure how worthy it is.

But .... a few months ago I was going to blog this:

Hydrogen is number one
Cos hydrogen is what puts the shine in the sun
Through nuclear fusion and when it’s done
It leaves element number two
Helium… helium is the second lightest gas that there is
So we use it in balloons we give to little kids
Then there’s lithium often used to treat mental problems
Beryllium don’t conduct electric currents, it stops them
Boron can be used to make things harden
And that smoke that’s coming out of your exhaust, carbon
Carbon is arguably the most important element
And nitrogen in the air is almost eighty percent
The rest of the air is mainly oxygen
And fluorine is the lightest of the halogens
OK that’s enough teaching
I ain’t trying to bore ya
I’m just trying to be a positive role model for ya

It's some hiphop rhymes which appealed to me cos I'm a science geek. Sadly it loses a lot in translation from cool UK hiphop vocalisation to the page. But I still like it.

A bit later on in the album, there's this track:

Thou shalt not steal if there is direct victim.
Thou shalt not worship pop idols or follow lost prophets.
Thou shalt not take the names of Johnny Cash, Joe Strummer, Johnny Hartman, Desmond Decker, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix or Syd Barret in vain.
Thou shalt not think that any male over the age of 30 that plays with a child that is not their own is a paedophile… Some people are just nice.
Thou shalt not read NME.
Thall shalt not stop liking a band just because they’ve become popular.
Thou shalt not question Stephen Fry.
Thou shalt not judge a book by it’s cover.
Thou shalt not judge Lethal Weapon by Danny Glover.
Thall shalt not buy Coca-Cola products.
Thou shalt not buy Nestle products.
Thou shalt not go into the woods with your boyfriend’s best friend, take drugs and cheat on him.
Thou shalt not fall in love so easily.
Thou shalt not use poetry, art or music to get into girls’ pants.
Use it to get into their heads.
Thou shalt not watch Hollyoakes.
Thou shalt not attend an open mic and leave before it’s done just because you’ve finished your shitty little poem or song you self-righteous prick.
Thou shalt not return to the same club or bar week in, week out just ’cos you once saw a girl there that you fancied but you’re never gonna fucking talk to anyway.

Thou shalt not put musicians and recording artists on ridiculous pedestals no matter how great they are or were.
The Beatles - Were just a band.
Led Zepplin - Just a band.
The Beach Boys - Just a band.
The Sex Pistols - Just a band.
The Clash - Just a band.
Crass - Just a band.
Minor Threat - Just a band.
The Cure - Just a band.
The Smiths - Just a band.
Nirvana - Just a band.
The Pixies - Just a band.
Oasis - Just a band.
Radiohead - Just a band.
Bloc Party - Just a band.
The Arctic Monkeys - Just a band.
The Next Big Thing - JUST A BAND.

Thou shalt give equal worth to tragedies that occur in non-english speaking countries as to those that occur in english speaking countries.
Thou shalt remember that guns, bitches and bling were never part of the four elements and never will be.
Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music.
Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music.
Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music.
Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music.

Thou shalt not pimp my ride.
Thou shalt not scream if you wanna go faster.
Thou shalt not move to the sound of the wickedness.
Thou shalt not make some noise for Detroit.
When I say “Hey” thou shalt not say “Ho”.
When I say “Hip” thou shalt not say “Hop”.
When I say, he say, she say, we say, make some noise - kill me.
Thou shalt not quote me happy.
Thou shalt not shake it like a polaroid picture.
Thou shalt not wish your girlfriend was a freak like me.
Thou shalt spell the word “Pheonix” P-H-E-O-N-I-X not P-H-O-E-N-I-X, regardless of what the Oxford English Dictionary tells you.
Thou shalt not express your shock at the fact that Sharon got off with Bradley at the club last night by saying “Is it”.
Thou shalt think for yourselves.

And most importantly of all, thou shalt always ...

Thou shalt always kill.

It's some hiphop rhymes which appealed to me cos I'm a geek. Fortunately it doesn't lose a lot in translation from cool UK hiphop vocalisation to the page. I like the humour, the honesty, the irony - "Thou shalt think for yourselves", hahahaa, that's so funny!

I didn't post either of these at the time cos ... um I didn't. But if I did, I would have demonstrated just how awesome, hip, and on-to-it my musical taste is. Unfortunately, for me, I heard this last track on Radio Active the other day, so now I just sound like a bandwagon jumper, not the the trendspotter I really am. Oh well.

Check them out.

See I told you that pic was there for no good reason.

The Spots

There are places around this city that I really like.

That give me a sense of peace.

That give me a sense of belonging.

That give me a sense of enjoyment.

Places that I really like.

These are some of those places.

Again these are from my forgotten series A Poorly Focussed Life.

The Viewer

The last couple of weeks I've been trying to ignore the NZ International Film Festival. Much like I've been ignoring this blog. Having an annoying cold for some of the time certainly helped.

But this weekend I've been getting into it. Albeit briefly. And there's been a musical theme. Be Kind Rewind was brilliant. And moving. But then its Michel Gondry so I wouldn't expect anything less. And vaguely about Fats Waller.

Last night we did the superb double feature of Pete Seegar : The Power of Song and Anvil : The Story of Anvil. After watching the last minutes of the All Blacks demolishing Australia, watched the Nick Drake doco A Skin Too Few on DVD.

And, for the record (cos I know you care), I've also seen review copies of Patti Smith : Dream of Life and The Cool School on DVD, and I Just Didn't Do It. Reviews may make it online sometime but that's not my call.

Three quite different docos about three quite different artists. But all well worth seeing. For quite different reasons. And regardless of musical taste.

So yeah, I've been doing stuff. Like real regular type jobs. And ignoring this blog. It's funny how easily it slips when I get busy. This weekend has been marking first assignments. I was dreading it, but it's not too bad really. We'll see what happens when they get their results though.

And the photo has nothing to do with anything. I just saw it again and decided to throw it in cos it's kinda cool, but sloppily composed. The very thing we tell our students off for.