February 22, 2005
Silver Shirt, Blue Sky
This girl was sitting on top of a truck as we took a slow barge across a river. One of the three we had to cross when leaving Cambodia for Thailand.
Women who run with the wolves
It seems like a rarity these days that I find myself grinning when not in a drunken stupor or packed full of caffeine. It is a remarkably beautiful thing to just naturally find yourself truly happy about a situation and a situation that isn’t entirely about YOU.
Tonight I was, what I described in two words, (an emotion and a colour), dreamy & orange. 5 women sat in a circle and read aloud the story of Bluebeard. It was our introduction to ‘Women who run with the wolves’. I can feel something beautiful in the reading of a tale, the passing of a big book and the contemplation of a thread. I could not stop smiling at my wonderful friends.
The group is really coming together. It is a place where we explore, trust, share, care and listen. It’s a seed that just keeps being watered. It’s poking its little shoot out now and saying “I can feel the sunshine! yipee!”
February 18, 2005
I created a set of ‘love bugs’, as I called them at the time. Creatures that when scuttling across your floor are deemed the most revolting vision on the face of the earth, but what if we made them pink and yellow and cute and lovey? Does it fuk with you?
February 16, 2005
kill yourself over typography?
I just had a wake up call… I almost slammed right into the back of a car, but luckily thanks to my sister’s volvo’s brakes, left one centimetre to spare! and why? Because I took a second glance at some typography on a sign and was wondering if I could identify the font. Oh for fucks sake, its not like it was a cute guy or anything. That I can understand, but gazing off whilst doing 70ks on the highway, silly silly…
I was on my way to visit my folks.. aka: The Lame, Blind and Deaf institute. My dad has a broken foot, my mum just had an eye operation.. and the dog’s been deaf for years. ugh! So they got to eat Flip’s left over curry! hah. Thanks for saving my late ass flip, they aint none the wiser.
February 14, 2005
guilty dreams have got no rhythm
Should I feel guilty about my dreams? They say if you dream about kissing your brother, it just means you ‘feel really close to him’. They are symbolic.
But this one, is too wrapped up in the truth of my thoughts. The thoughts that keep growing and melding into one big mind taking-over thought. But thoughts can be pushed aside, forced to leave the mind. A dream though, it has no control, it goes where you won’t let yourself go. It experiences every possibility.
I had to sleep beyond it just to release it from my heart when I awoke. It was too present in the room. It has now taken over my usual senses, leaving me swimming in its lust. And I liked it. I loved it.
February 12, 2005
A year is a wonderful thing. It is how we have moved on. We can end one year and start another. A new slate, a clean canvas. We are not in the middle of our consequences, deep into the action, with the days churning.
Now we can revisualise, start fresh. Already the past year’s angst has been forgotten, put to rest in its history bed. We can change! We have this new year!
Without the end of last year and the beginning of this one, I would not be having such hope for the future of my company and our relationships. It would have just continued on in a relatively unchanging way.
Now that things are in the compartment of last year, we can move on to a better place together, you and I.
February 10, 2005
Nat on stars
Day to day I dream and work at Papercut Media. There, I art direct with two fine fellows by my side. I embark on missions for my clients to create amazing designs that will give them great financial rewards. I do so in extremely tight timelines and for an average amount of money. I am currently investigating my options.
My irreplaceable partner in creation, Patrick Pittman, just set this up for me. He has provided an opening for my art, an opening for you to attend, an opening of me.
So, welcome. Please grab yourself a glass of wine from the cask.