You are currently browsing the monthly archive for February, 2007.
Went through a phase of developing procedural shaders and geometry. The geometry is all based off L-Systems, the hero neuron was hand tweaked, the shaders are all complex procedurals, so it holds up at all resolutions. Originally designed for a print piece for a friend.
Its huge, but worth a squiz if I do say so myself.
I saw her as i rushed past, late as usual
Legs curled under her, her slender fingers absently playing with a twist of hair which had escaped.
Stump Boy
First she screamed,
then she pooped, we-ed and farted
(It had been 9 hours since labour started)
She strained and pushed,
And pooped some more,
Then out he shot, past the doc
And onto the floor
They quickly scooped him up
Wiped off the slime,
And noticed, for the very first time
A nice round head, chubby little body,
Hideously loveable as babies can be
Adorable eyes and button nose
But no arms or legs could be seen.
Just some little bumps
Where they ought to have been.
They looked under the bed, the sheets and the bin
But the legs and arms they couldn’t find,
They even checked mom
to see if they’d been left behind
“Whats wrong?”
The doctor stammered, the doctor quivered
And shakily replied
I’m terribly sorry my dear lady,
But you’ve just given birth
To a thalidomide baby.
I may have been hasty
I could have been wrong,
I should have give you panadol all along
But the perks were great, the drug fantastic
Who would have known that it was teratogenic?
A decision was quietly reached
A prayer, a swift journey up to heaven
They wrapped poor stump boy up
Kissed him once
And tossed him into the dump.
Beauty Point, Northern Tasmania 2006
Sorry its a bit late…
Hirsute Girl
Fair of skin, beautiful green eyes
With delicate features, quiet and wise
Lustrous hair, dark as night
Out of a fairy tale, our own snow white.
Ruby red lips, eager to smile
Pleasant demeanour, gentle and mild.
But this is a tale of woe and melancholy
And as such, cannot end happily
She woke up one morning to a horrific sight
For in the mirror, a beard had grown, and sideburns overnight!
She gagged and puked,
Retched and screamed
For now she could see
She was hairy as can be
from the crown of her head; to the soles of her feet.
Her mother fainted, her father swore,
Their daughter sweet and cute no more
The doctor thought, and thought and thunk
‘I’m sorry, I’m totally sunk
I hate to ask and insinuate
But is perhaps the dad some hairy primate?
Mabye an ape, a monkey or gibbon?
Macaque, chimp or simian?
This time father fainted and mother swore
I was weak, lonely and my actions I deplore
It was one day at the zoo, I meant only to admire
But I’m sorry my dear, an ape was your sire
Before father recovered, a plan was hatched,
And their hairy daughter quickly dispatched
With a hug and quick adieu
Her mum sent her packing
To join daddy at the zoo.
ps. I am not mad
Furnace Touch: A work that I did with the emminent Gareth Sion Jenkins last year for the Newcastle Poetry Prize, a man whose poetic talent is matched only a voice that is so melodious it is like liquid sex.
‘The floating
sound and images works reflect the disintegration of
the main character’s mind as he approaches his
disaster point: here the air is a furnace touch, just
hot enough to take off your fingerprints.’
Unfed (50mb Quicktime): My poetic dance film I made with the extraordinary talents of Gareth Sion Jenkins, Anton, Jenny Atwood and Emee Dillon. It has done quite well, showing around Australia, New Zealand, Asia, Germany and Eastern Europe. And the latest is that it will be shown on ABC on the 27th of March at 22:00. Rest assured that I will be reminding you of this fact. Constantly
..the painful eagerness of unfed hope. George Eliot
A 6 minute experimental poetic dance film of loneliness and alienation. Through textual, spatial and temporal fractures, Unfed physically and imaginatively evokes the hidden, inner landscape of our longing for connection, meaning and love.
“Unfed is incredible, disturbing yet hypnotic…it stirs something uncomfortable within the soul while simultaneously acknowledging the beauty in the fractured people, emotions and imagery… The amazing voice driving the piece serves to enhance these qualities, providing an eerie desparation and melancholy. A sadness that engulfs you.”
Kelly Butler , Film Mogul (unscripted and unpaid review)
In my own private protest, I submit to you, Couple Punching Day. Couples are sickening at the best of times, but cruel and unusual to designate a day for ever more extravagent, vomit inducing, saccharine displays of mopey Hallmark romance.
For those that missed out, here it is for you viewing pleasure.
Happy Couple Punching Day
Bah Humbug
She had a pretty face, a head full of hair,
Soft gentle golden curls such that
Strangers would stop and stare.
Her parents proud as proud can be,
showing her off for all the world to see.
However one fateful day,
The girl developped trichotillomania,
And started to pull her hair out
much to her parents dismay.
In strands, squiggles and clumps,
In bunches, scrunches and lumps
Out it came, her beautiful hair
leaving twisted knots and patches bare.
Pretty no more,
strangers still stopped to stare
they whispered amongst themselves,
Her mortified parents in despair.
They decided to end the shame,
the innuendo, the blame!
So under cover of dark,
they shaved her bald, clothed her warm
and abandoned her, in the park.
There was once a boy born with a cute button nose
Ten chubby fingers and toes
But there was something horribly wrong,
Something not quite right
For you see, the boy couldn’t seem to blink,
Squint or wink.
Try as he might,
struggle and fight
He couldn’t close his eyes,
Not even one little bit.
He stared and stared
And stared some more
He stared at the sky
He stared at the floor
His parents were in a state
They couldn’t stand seeing him, staring all day
So one night as he slept,
with his eyes wide open
They crept into his room,
And stood for a moment,
Our poor staring boy they sighed,
And held each other tight.
Then stuck pins in his eyes,
And turned out the light
