You can print every word I say



Daniel Buren made alot of work using striped canvas, the sort of material used as window/balcony shading in Europe and to a lesser degree here in Australia. I like this material, but there's something unsatisfying about  Buren's work, I can't put my finger on it - maybe these pictures will help explain


Two memories:

A friend told me that they loved the paintings done by a fictional character in a film(I can't remember the film now)–but they also thought this was sad because the paintings were essentially a movie prop.

Another friend in my year 12 art class used to keep travel catalogues–I remember they used to be delivered in the mail–so she could fantasise about going to the places in the photographs.

Images are waking dreams maybe. Or images stand in for experiences maybe.




The saga that followed was not about unconditional love, but about seeking to inhabit an intersubjective world that is about meeting the other in all the fleshy detail of a mortal relationship.




Spring kills me every year.

I would rather sit on a train for 12 hours than be on a plane for 1. The landscape looks greener than I've ever seen it. There's that gentle sun and animals are lying down everywhere; horses, cows. I wondered if they were dead. The past couple of weeks I keep thinking back to that time just before adolescence, around year 3 or 4 even, when things were gentle, just before hormones kicked in. Spring and childhood will probably always have inseparable associations for me. I wonder what climate change will do to spring, and how it will upend the cycles of memory & renewal & every other little thing that matters.

I'm going to a funeral today and staying with my mum for a couple of days. I just let a fly in the house, it's clean in here. Letting a fly in is like letting chaos in.