TED Talks —> Do schools kill creativity, Sir Ken Robinson (2006)
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Woody Allen —> dentistry
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10 books, works of art, things of value —> what would it be?

We watched the TED video, and perhaps the discussion about ten things of value came from that. Regardless, I’ve spent the past few weeks putting together this list. Ten things that really speak to me and what I do.

1. WNYC RadioLab, Tell Me A Story

Every RadioLab podcast is amazing. This one struck a particular chord with me as it explained exactly what I wanted my work to be about at a time when I was writing a proposal and really struggling to articulate my thoughts. I cried in public at a tram stop on Swanston St.

2. zefrank

baseline

outside

stumpy

bittersweet

The Show with Zefrank. A podcast from several years ago, where Ze made a video every weekday for a year. Odd, hilarious and utterly inspiring. The clips above are a few of my favourites. I still subscribe to the feed because I just can’t let go. ‘Stumpy’ in particular brought the public waterworks.

3. Merlin Mann, Towards Patterns for Creativity

The myth:
Creativity is a gift!
From a muse!
Or, whatever!

Merlin Mann has never made me cry. Although I have internally cheered on occasion. I’ve had this particular video saved in a blog draft for about a year. Occasionally I’ve ranted and raved about the talent myth here, and I may have said angry things about people who pander to it. In reality, the things that get you places are hard work and a love for what you do. I credit this video with my current habit of getting into the studio at 8:15 every morning, whether or not I have any idea what I’m going to do when I get there. I already had a physical folder equivalent to the box idea, but since then I’ve made myself an online box too. See once upon a spacetime.

4. Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys

My first and favourite Neil Gaiman novel. I bought it for a plane trip to Darwin/Wadeye and didn’t put it down until it was done. I probably cried on the plane. When I struggle with a place to start a project, I think of the first line of this book. It begins, as most things begin, with a song. And I go from there.

5. Sigur Ros, Glósóli

The song alone gave me chills. Then I saw the video clip. And cried.

6. The Iron Giant

I saw the animated film first, then I read the original story, The Iron Man by Ted Hughes later. They are very, very different, but have the same heart. Brad Bird changed the story quite drastically for the film, and those changes suit the feature film format much more than Ted Hughes’ fantastical story would. The film guts me every time I watch it, and the book had a similar effect… when I read it sitting on a park bench on Sydney Road.

7. Woody Allen’s Manhattan

If you don’t like Manhattan we can’t be friends. Simple as that. I saw Manhattan for the first time only a few years ago. It was my first Woody Allen film and I had no preconceptions of what it would be like. I had no idea that (apart from a few stark differences in personal experience and preference) Woody Allen’s brain is (or was back then anyway) exactly the same as mine.

8. Joss Whedon

I could list Buffy, Angel, Firefly, Serenity, Dr Horrible, anything that Joss has made here. Pretty much everything is worthwhile. Especially the speech he gave at Equality Now. I don’t doubt that Joss has made me cry in public on several occasions.

9. Cages, Dave McKean

My favourite graphic novel. Currently out of print. Apparently this will be available again in August 2010. I don’t know how many times I’ve borrowed this from the Melbourne University library. Lets just leave it at “a lot”. Cages is a story about creative processes. Aesthetically, there’s a wonderful sense of movement and poise in the illustration and it hits all my favourite philosophical notes. Wept on a tram while reading the last few pages.

10. The Flaming Lips

I was going to choose an album, but really, the ultimate Flaming Lips experience is seeing them in concert. I think I’ve said this before somewhere here, but the highlight for me from the show at Festival Hall in 2009 was Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. Beforehand, Wayne mentioned (paraphrasing and depending on memory here, of course) that there was a particular song that he never expected would resonate so much with people, and how joyous he felt playing it live.

There was a period in my life about eight weeks ago where things just didn’t seem to stop. I’d started my new job, had an art show opening and was trying to sort out starting my MFA. Constant movement.

I was also about to turn 30 and desperately needed to clean my house in preparation for the party. Of course, in my brain, that translated to clean and polish all bookshelves and catalogue all books using Delicious Library.

I did manage to squeeze in some knitting time. I don’t remember what I was knitting though. I do know it wasn’t the gloves that I promised Mr C’s mum last June…

I also snuck in a Puppy of the Week. I’ve been slack with my Puppy of the Week photos. I need to get back on that, because it’s wonderful flipping through all the photos and seeing the changes that don’t get noticed day-to-day.

In the meantime, I was busy finding out what I’d need to do for uni in terms of contact hours. It wasn’t much, as Masters is basically a Choose Your Own Adventure type of course, but I needed to go into printmaking weekly for group tutorials. Despite a discussion on the phone about part-time study being viable when I accepted my job, thanks to the wonders of flex time, I was nervous about telling my employer that I had been offered a part-time fully Commonwealth supported place in the MFA. And it turns out I was right to be nervous, as the HR department flat out refused to give me the hour and a half off each Tuesday afternoon (that I would have made up during the week with my “flex” time) that I needed to go to class. All because I’m a new employee. I was pretty upset about this, mostly because if I’d been told that on the phone, I would never have gone through the hassle of enrolling myself at uni and would have instead accepted the offer for the MFA but deferred immediately. Instead, I’d been stressing out for weeks trying to organise things, and now that I’d started the enrollment process, putting the degree off for a year was more complicated and difficult for everyone involved. Despite being very happy to have this job, being told one thing then having that flat out contradicted left a bitter aftertaste — on the day before my birthday, of all days.

A couple of weeks ago, Jenny Hart posted a challenge on the Sublime Stitching blog to make a micro-monogrammed cushion. As I was thinking about what thread I could use to make the Smallest Monogram Ever, I figured the finest available was my hair. So I pulled out the longest silver bits* I could find and got started. I was looking at the Coraline film website around the same time, getting inspired and simultaneously freaked out by all the ridiculously tiny knitting. I suddenly knew this had to be a Creepy Coraline Cushion. I like to think she made it from scavenged scraps while locked up by Other Mother.

(For size reference, see my Twitter365 pic from yesterday.)

*Oddly, for a 29 year old, finding hairs that were long enough was much harder than finding silver ones. I think I’m well over 50% grey at this point. Luckily it suits me well — sometimes customers at work ask me how I got my hair to look like this so that they can replicate it… I tell them I grew it.

I’ve made my first ever batch of soap! We had a severely blocked drain in the bathroom, and when I went to buy something to clean the drain with, I found a tub of caustic soda that said “perfect for making soap” on the label. How could I resist? I still don’t know if the soap I made is any good or not, because it has to sit for a few weeks before use. And if it is good, we won’t have to buy soap for about a year, because the recipe made a crapload of it.

After the soaps were done, I had to go buy a button for something and didn’t have any cash on me. So I used my card, and in order to get the purchase up to the $10 EFTPOS minimum, had to buy some yarn too. Just had to. There was no alternative. So I bought some bamboo and bamboo/cotton blend yarn and have started crocheting facecloths with it. Being a crochet newbie, I decided to use a pattern, and picked this potholder. The Patons Serenity yarn is lovely and soft, if a bit splitty, and I’m really happy with the end product. Rav details here.

And all of you who’ve been asking for new books in my Etsy Store? I’ve caught the bug again. Behold.

I read a review for How to Make Books: Fold, Cut & Stitch Your Way to a One-Of-A-Kind Book by Esther K. Smith on the CraftyPod blog the day before receiving a $10 off wishlist items coupon from Fishpond. So I ordered it and Magic Books & Paper Toys: Flip Books, E-Z Pop-Ups & Other Paper Playthings to Amaze & Delight and I couldn’t be happier. I’m so happy with these books that I’ve deleted every single other bookmaking book from all my wishlists. I have a couple of bookmaking books already, and have borrowed a few from libraries in my time, and on the whole they’re either so dry they could catch fire at any second, or they have that slight scrapbooking, “here’s how to make this exact project this way, look! pretty!” vibe. These two books are the perfect combination of whimsy and practical, and you can expect to see some new books from me here soon.

In the meantime, I’m off to work…

I’ve been procrastinating on this blog post since New Year’s Eve. Somehow, every time I sit down to think about writing it, I end up in tears. I really am not overstating things in saying that 2008 was the worst year of my life. Mostly, it was a year filled with death. With the added fun of almost complete financial ruin thanks to my employers severely cutting the hours of every casual employee on their rosters.

If you’re freezing on your left side
And you’re boiling on your right side
Then I guess you might be warm upon the line
There are many ways one can divide a life
And I’ve got mine

I was flying home and I
Saw the sunset from the sky
I saw the dark come spooning down upon the land
And I thought about the distance we all cover
And it made me sad

And as the old year took a bow
And joined the setting sun
It comes around again
Like a refrain
And we all sing along
And think of things we should’ve done
Till one year when the new year never came

Little comfort, little comfort
I’m afraid you’re not enough
I’ve had some learning both unwelcome and unkind
And it seems there’s but one story told
And then re-worked all throughout time

Are you a good one or a cruel one
Is it just the laws that make us bad
What can we do to measure where we stand
Well I judge myself by what I give to someone else
So I’ll know where I am

Don’t let that sense of urgency betray you in the dark
The rustle of a curtain’s not a sign
Don’t frame this picture now
As some kind of closing remark
And most of all stay warm upon the line
Most of all stay warm upon the line
It’s best if you stay warm upon the line

For the past week I’ve had this song running through both my head and my iPod. One of the few things I did spend money on in 2008 was Josh Pyke’s new album, Chimney’s Afire. I haven’t had a radio for a long time, so haven’t heard of a lot of new musicians. I’m finding this nice, because when I do discover something I love, it comes free of preconceived notions and others opinions. I’d downloaded one of his earlier songs from iTunes when they had it as free song of the week. After listening over and over and over, I took myself down to JB HiFi and splashed out on this and Red Letter Year by Ani DiFranco. The latter has left me a bit cold — I’ve only managed a few listens — but the former has been pretty much on constant repeat since.

I appreciate the sentiment here. I don’t want to fall into the trap of thinking that now 2008 is over, all the crappy shit that happened is done and everything from here on in will come up roses. But I do appreciate the idea of marking time, a circle around the sun, starting afresh. I hated 2008, but I don’t want to, or shouldn’t, forget the things that happened. I’m not even going to look back at last years resolutions, because I know they all went to hell (well, if I believed in hell) in a handbasket around about March.

I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.

I was reminded of this snippet from To Kill A Mockingbird the other day, when I stumbled across it on the Contrariwise blog. That’s my goal for the year. Courage. Perseverance. In the little things and the big things. See them through. That ball of yarn up there that got tangled in the dyebath? I think it’s a lost cause, but I’m going to try and untangle it anyway.

Tom? We’ve had a rough time these past couple of months, but we’ve made a commitment and all the hard work and stress is paying off. Tom attacked Stella a month or so ago when he found a bone dumped outside our house and Stella came near him. Our parents and our friends thought we were doing the wrong thing and expressed opinions about taking him back to the greyhound adoption program. But I’m not giving up on my puppy. Stella’s had her stitches out. Every day since we’ve been working with Tom to weed out his food aggression issues and it’s working, slowly but surely. This morning we brought them both in to lay on the bed for a while and they fell asleep using each other as pillows.

Aside from that, I really can’t make resolutions for 2009. Because I don’t know what’s happening. I’m stuck in no man’s land waiting for answers. I’ve applied for my honours year at uni, and while everyone else from printmaking has heard and been accepted, I’ve only received a letter saying that my application is still being processed and I’ll hear as soon as there is news either way. Earlier in the year I was “let go” from a crappy casual second job I had at Mr C’s work because I couldn’t guarantee my future availabilty. I didn’t get the job at the yarn shop because the people interviewing me think I’m good enough to succeed with my Pixar goal and hence, didn’t want to bother training someone who would leave after a year (note to self: don’t accidentally spill life plans and dreams during job interviews). So I’m stuck in a job that I hate, with its dwindling hours, until I find something better. So I’ve applied for jobs and am now waiting to hear about those as well. Everything in my life feels like it’s frozen. I’m headed into uncharted territory.

Hic sunt leones.

So, I finished installing my work for assessment last night (and holy crap the studios were so frakking hot and humid yesterday… worst day for installing work ever), and it’s being assessed today and tomorrow. We’re not allowed in for the assessment — the print shop is closed to everyone bar staff and a mystery external assessor until Monday, when we go in and deinstall. As such, I’ve spent today in various states of lying down and doing not much.

Personally, I’m quite impressed with how restrained I was when putting my installation together. There’s always a tendency to be indecisive and put up as much as possible, but I feel like I’m getting better at that.

The crocheted Lorenz Manifold was the central part of my work, and all the printmaking pieces evolved from it.

An ancient metaphor: thought is a thread, and the raconteur is a spinner of yarns — but the true storyteller, the poet, is a weaver. The scribes made this old and audible abstraction into a new and visible fact. After long practice, their work took on such an even, flexible texture that they called the written page a textus, which means cloth." [Robert Bringhurst, ‘The Elements of Typographic Style’]*

As stated in the excerpt from my proposal posted with the Flickr set, my work is about the connection between story and science, and further, the way that textile metaphor connects all those things.

I produced a series of books and fabric scroll-like pieces that reference the mathematics of chaos theory combined with lines from stories that reflect the concepts of change and chance that the theory encompasses. The silk I used to print on was purchased as recycled scrap offcuts from Kazari warehouse, and the shapes of each piece strongly informed the resulting work.

In this book, titled Text Book, I have started to embroider between the lines of the chaos theory definition and the lorenz manifold pattern, hinting at the idea that we read into the technical details to find meaning and purpose in the way we lead our lives. I do plan on embroidering some more on this before the graduate show. I also intend to finish the entire lorenz manifold crochet, which I didn’t do yet because the back of my right knee has been achy and sore for a while and I’ve been hesitant to spin as a result.

Gotta say, it felt very good to embroider again. I haven’t done much since burning myself out on the Wayne Coyne and Jenny Hart portrait from a few years back, and I really loved getting back into it.

One piece I didn’t embroider on was this long scroll…

…instead, the text on this one (from Neil Gaiman’s latest offering, The Graveyard Book) was transferred in that wonderful way from days gone by, carbon paper. I swear, one of my favourite things to play with at my grandparent’s house as a kid was my grandma’s notepad with carbon paper in it. Maybe that’s where the printmaking obsession started.

There’s something especially lovely about rolled up fabric.

As a companion piece to Text Book, I made another book, this one from my collection of paper offcuts saved from the previous years of my course. This one is called, of course, Picture Book.

Inside, it contains a chronological selection of the progress documentation photos that I’ve been taking, along with the metadata concerning time taken and the camera settings for each picture. I hope that it helps tell the story of the more abstract work in the rest of the project.

But I go back to my man Galileo who was maybe the first, in western tradition anyway, to honour mathematics as the primal force of knowledge. ‘The logic of the universe,’ he said in his book The Assayer, ‘is written in the language of mathematics, without which one is wandering around in a dark labyrinth.’ But having honoured math, Galileo was very happy to create beautiful metaphors, to invent marvellous characters, to draw pictures. He knew how to light that labyrinth so the rest of us could see inside. Because the more abstract and mathematical science gets, the more we need to imagine something concrete. As the physicist Alan Lightman has said, ‘We are blind people inventing what we don’t see.’**

*Harper, D. 2001, Online Etymology Dictionary [Accessed: 31.7.2008]

**Radiolab,‘Tell me a story’ scienctific education podcast, WNYC, New York [Accessed: 22.8.2008]