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December 2006
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February 2007

January 2007

Correct Usage Police

Oh fellow artists, why can't you handle the langle? It is not so much clay you know, that you can model into any shape! It is not polygons and nurbs, nor paint on a brush to push around!

And for starters, I mean:
Antagonise: Apparently a member of my class was antagonising over her project.
Sounds painful.
Advanced information: A Member of Staff pointed out that advanced information can prejudice your opinion of an artist

Oh, here's a good one: A brother of a friend highheeled it up the street
Ha! brilliant. Presume he meant hightailed. Although
Might be part-time TV for all I know.

And with further no further adieu.. I bid you ado.

(inspired by Member of Staff as above).


Art world demented place with Emperor's Clothes-ish overtones

We went to this place to see this dude:

Temple Bar Gallery and Studios' first exhibition of the New Year is a solo show by British artist Matt Stokes, recipient of Beck's Futures 2006. Lost in the Rhythm , Stoke's first exhibition in Ireland , opens at Temple Bar Gallery and Studios on January 17 th and continues until February 24 th 2007.

Matt Stokes' practice is marked by anthropological enquiry and his abiding interest in how social events and informal movements bind people together. Music subcultures have been central to the development of his recent projects, which focus on music's propensity to influence and affect the way people live. Research plays an essential role in Stokes' work, as he actively engages with his immediate surroundings and explores participatory elements.

Eheh, no doubt I was missing something, it seemed like a DJ spinning some 90's dance music in a gallery. As opposed to a night club.
Could see no evidence of the anthropological interest, unless he was secretly studying us from under his eyelashes..

Managed to have a nice time anyway, talking to the others, Joan and Emma and some of Joan's friends. Then the huge 9-month pregnancy type burden of my laptop tugging at my back became tiring so off I went home.

Today the JB and I went to see some houses. One, in a Tardis-like twist, was a gnomes' house outside but strangely airy inside. It was hard not to be put off though by the lady-ish paraphernalia lying around. Her slippers. Things like that. So personal, makes you think of body sweat and DNA and forensics imbueing them.

And we went to see another one, in Millmount Ave. Really nice, I thought. Generically decorated, in a rent-me way.. but 3 bedrooms and decent space outside. JB really liked it. I have an inkling it reminded him of home.

Saw Taz and Ailsa. A uninterested in Aunty D now. Has new friends apparently. Taz huge yoke, nearly as big as A.

Idea: get Coffeys to tell a three perspective story??


full moon kind of night

The JB was having a fit of coughing caused by the Hungarian cold residing in his RC lungs last night. I was having a lesser fit of coughing in my CofI throat.
(make of this what you will, as long as you conclude that I am the superior being).

So we were awake until the (saintly) JB went to sleep on the couch so I could sleep. (Sweeeeeeeetie). I lay awake perversely anyway, thinking about my storyboard project and how I can make a vertical version of it, and what it might say (Wise fool: earth is really dying) and how I can go ahead with that and alongside it do a project where you input text from email strings or blogs and images associated with them (which I have created in a database) appear in sequence, or maybe cross-dissolve up or appear in rows (?). You could make an electronic voice read the text over the images.

Phew, some ideas are being captured. Lil feckers! I'll get them!
and V. that man from That Theatre Co. has signed off the stuff, so I will finish it off, (using all of my concentration in an effort not to f*ck it up).

I might be a touch manic today, on the upswing. But I like it. I am in Ma's. Da is at a match. The windows are black. The wind is ROARING and throwing handfuls of rain at the glass. The TV is blaring - a lottery show. I will go and join my mother now.

Ian B*rns

came in to see us. (Yes. As you can see from the abrupt and liberal use of * it belatedly occurs to the e that someone could search for such and stumble on this site. Which would be fine as long as it wasn't, say, a supervisor or ex or such).

(Or such. Who do I think I am, your man in Educating Rita?)

He was very interesting. Has had a ton of interesting shows in NYC, DUMBO etc, many playing on the idea of cliche, narrative, and construct of image. He talked in a broad Alf Stewart way (flamin gallah etc) - in artspeak, but without a Hogan's ghost of pretension. He makes these huge pieces of wood and found materials - they look wonderfully crude and Flinstones-ian, which mechanically animate objects to construct images and project them onto paper screens.

Pretty good I tell ya. We went to see his piece in Mother's Tank *tation (which I have been calling Mother's Tank Engine, a short step from Thomas, apparently, in my befuddled mind). It was a minute nail stuck in the wall up high with a piece of flag being blown from it by a fan, projected at 200% of its size with a spy camera (wantee wanteee) onto a flat screen so it really looked like the moon landing. So simple and beautiful.


I had my grilling assessment on Thursday.

The deal is that I am at a point in the process where I am wavering and thinking, drawing and dreaming (as much as time permits) before I nail down the Thing it is that I want to do, so I can jump off into it. It's an intricate and exciting time this but it's important that I get it right, otherwise I could end up backtracking and feeling it's an irretrevable mess.

The other deal is, this phase has been interrupted and delayed by you know, life, work, stuff like that. So it may seem to certain supervisors that I am vacillating, am frustrated and they may misconstrue this to be "an unwillingness to fail" and such. Ah well.

The good deal is this has motivated me to put in some time and start really coming to the heart of it and visualising it. I am most interested in the function of narrative in our lives: about how we use it to make sense of our experiences - how we impose it on random sequences of events and experiences to console ourselves, to feel there is an order in this world - to feel there is a system or a God, perhaps.

The deal about what I am going to do is (something like) this: take a story seen from 3 points of view and animate/illustrate (oooh dirty word) them through quite "straight"..

then they can be manipulated and randomised so the viewser "rolls a dice" and can see any of the 3 voices with any of the 3 visuals. ie: the story of the birth of the JB: told by his father, his neighbour and him, I suppose. The pov of the JB might show him in the womb - which could be interesting with the voice over of his father over it. Something to try perhaps.. I can try more as I see how it works. Phew.

Got. A. Plan.
(as they say on the interweb).

incoherent rant-een about printers

On Friday at about 12 the printer rang me asking me to resend him the images for a certain project:

involving a jigsaw and some children. I duly sat down and recreated the brochure in Illustrator, making sure the fonts were separate and worked the same as the original font (which was an openface so couldn't be used in Illustrator 8 which is the rather antique version I am working with) and adjusting the photos. Fair enough. Sent it off. They came back saying the font was missing so I resent them the eps with fonts included while I looked for the  font on my hard drive. This is about 5.45, according to outlook express. I found the font where it was hiding in another part of the hard drive, and sent it on at 6 or so saying they should come back to me if they need anything else.

Now, speaking to V, the artistic director (or such) at Somewhat Worthy Children's Theatre, I hear a different story. That: the file was printed in the adjusted CMYK version that they had bemoaned (and so my work in recreating it was for nothing), and the photos were too dark because of something I did to them, and that they printed it the CMYK version because they couldn't open the file and I had run out of options. (In reality it was the fonts that were the issue. If you can't open the file, you don't even know fonts are missing).

I told him this wasn't true. Well, hay-ull, I did make some mistakes (from lack of experience rather than laziness) (is that a defence? probably not) but to make it sound as if I cut them off was a bit rich. Although  now I think of it, maybe the meaning has been lost a bit in the reporting: maybe they meant they'd run out of options. Who can know. They must have prevaricated over the opening of the file though. The real version cannot be known. There is no real objective truth. This is the real objective truth. (he heh)

I have a lot of stuff to do on the job still including a bit I hadn't quoted for. I am just about enough tired of the whole thing  to make them pay for it. I don't really care if they don't ask me for more work. I will live off JB, a rich man he. (he heh).
I do get jaded. Feel like I am churning stuff out.

NB Must remember to make the font 100% black and in Illustrator
and quote for extra flyer thing
and point out Real Objective Version of events.

Heh heh.


eco: Well done Sherlock
JB: I'm Holmes! (pause while the JB cogitates)
wait.. no I'm Watson!

You're definitely Watson darling.

E: I'm not a total buffoon you know!
JB: No, you're not any kind of great ape.
wait! no, that's a baboon, isn't it?