Thursday, April 23, 2009

-baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

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We were told to expand further on our idea. So, more sheep were created.
Sheep are strange creatures. They decided to toy colour, texture and form.


We were given a few constrants and ideas. Two variants were needed, one emphasising the use of colour, the other with incoperation a "found object". Found object, an amazingly broad term, apparently widely used in the Monash Design Community? It means an existing object, that has already been made, modelled for another use; and we first year design students grab it and incoperate it into our work. Sort of like collaging.

It's all very silly in my book. Surely everything is creatured for another purpose then making sheep.

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You can't really see this one properly. I made the sheep out of clear plastic pockets and stuffed their stomachs with cotton balls. Yes, there is a tree with a tyre swing and a fencing. Do you see? Can you look? At the BAa?
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Going a little psychedelic with silly last minute inspiration from dear old Dr Seuss and his strange fishy books. Colour co-ordination to differienciate letter from letter. Purple grass because...why not?
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Sheep sure are strange creatures.

strange shapes, sleep deprivation and the mysterious case of 4am make my photography skillz terrible.


Wednesday, April 8, 2009

-Odd.

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Sometimes, I'm a little worried as to exactly what the first impression is that I'm giving people:
"You should meet my friend, he and you are so much alike. Sometimes I imagine what would happen if I locked you two in a room. You see, what I imagine, is that after an extend period of time, both of you will be wearing lampshades on your head, sitting cross legged on the floor, slapping the group and manically laughing." - Dave
Another one described me as:
"you're twisted.... but it's a nice kind of twist.... like being the only bent straw in the mcdonald's dispenser" - Stephen
I'm quite fond of times when people think I'm a little strange; but at which point should I start being terrible concerned?

Saturday, April 4, 2009

.baa-

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Ah yes, yet another Design project. This time we were given one week to complete it. Although, thankfully, no background research or developmental sketches were required. So, I dived head first into it.

This project was aptly named "Three letter word". We were to pick a three letter word, and some how represent it in a three dimensional form, using the principle of Letterform and only the use of planar materials. I was stuck with what word to choose for quite a while. But I settled for the bleat of a sheep: "baa".

The told us that planar materials are things that come in flat sheets, ranging from planks of bulsar wood to wire mesh. Me being me, the cheap one who would attempt to do every design project under the tiniest budget, decided to use cartridge paper.

There, Vola! It's done. Three sheep and a strange deranged tree. Do you see the world "baa". Someone said it was a bit far fetched; my excuse is that they gave me one week.


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Having just been born, I decided to give the sheep a quick roam around the house before cementing their feet to a board.

- 金魚 .

I have strange goldfish. This one is roughly 13 yrs old.
It's been sitting in the corner of the tank like that for three days now.
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This didn't happen today, but we have no moved our fish tank outside. I admit that I'm pretty disconnected with these goldfish. I don't even feed them. But they manage to survive. It's a little crazy, starting with 12 fish, now down to the final 4. Some of them have mutated a bit.

As a child, I had a little ordering system with these fish. I went and labeled each fish with a member of the Yuen family, though because we were a small family, not all of them were named. They were the exciting times when the fish tank was completely full. But they all slowly died, one by one. And only the on named Grandma is left. If I recall correctly, think the fish that I labeled as Eric went first.


Grandma and Mutant
(mutant only has one googley eye, the other one is missing. It's...just a socket)


Cheeky. Because he's fat.

Unnamed. He's not dieing. He's just lazy.
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It's a bit sad I think. I've had these goldfish for so long. They never do anything, though rationally, it wouldn't make a difference if they went. Then again I'm not very rational person.

Murti-Bingism

The Captive Mind - Czeslaw Milosz.
Translated from the polish by Jane Zielonko
Published in 1953

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I've been attempting to read this book for a while now. I found it in the european literature section of the university library. It's a fascinating social commentary on the society and people of Warsaw, Praque, Bucharest and Budapest. It attempts to explore "how the human mind functions in the poeple's democracies." Anyway, here's a few extracts:
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From "The Pill of Murti-Bing"
Let us admit that a man is no more than an instrument in an orchestra directed by the muse of History. It is only in this context taht the notes he prouces have any significance. Otherwise even his most brilliant solos become simply a highbrow's diversions.

We are not concered with the question of how one finds the courage to oppose the majority. Intsead we are concerted with a much more poignant question: can one write well outside that one real stream whose vitality springs from its harmony with historical laws and the dynamics of reality? Rilke's poems may be very good, but if they are, that means there must have been some reason for them in his day. Contemplative poems, such as his, could never appear in a people's democracy, not only because it would be difficult to publish them, but because this writer's impulse to write them would be destroyed at it's very root. The objective conditions for such poetry have disappeared, and the intellectual from whom I speak is not one who believes in writing for the burea drawer. he curses and despairs over the censorship and demands of the publishing trusts. Yet at the same time, he is profoundly suspicious of unlicensed literature. The publishing license he himself receives does not mean that the editor appreciates the artistic merics of his book, nor that he expects it to be polular with the public.
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From "Looking to the West"
Men tends to regard the order he lives in as natural. The houses he passes on his way to work seem more like rocks rising out of the earth than like products of human hands. he considers the work he does in his office or factory as essential to the harmouious functioning of the world. The clothes he wears are exactly what they should be, and he laughs at the idea that he might equally well be wearing a Roman toga or medievil armor. He respects and envies a minister of state or bank direct, and regards the possession of a considerable amount of money as the main guarantee of peace and security. He cannot believe that one day a rider may appear on the street he knows well, where cats sleep and children play, and start catching passer-by with his lasso. he is accustomed to satisfying those of his physiological needs which are considered private as discreetly as possible, without realising that such a pattern of behavior is not common to all human societies. In a word, he behaves a little like Charlie Chaplin in The Gold Rush, bustling about in a shack poised precariously on the edge of a cliff.

His first troll along a street littered with glass from bomb-shattered windows shakes his faith in the "naturalness" of his world...
...Farther down the street, he stops before a house split in half by a bomb, the privacy of people's homes - the family smells, the warmth of the beehive life, the furniture preserving the memory of loves and hatred - cut open to public view. The house itself, no longer a rock, but a scaffolding of plaster, concrete, and brick; and on the thrid floor, a solitary white bathtub, rain-rinsed of all recollection of those who once bathed in it. Its formerly inluential and respected owers, now destitute, walk the fields in search of stray potatoes. Thus overnight money loses its value and becomes a meaningless mass of printed paper.

He finds he acquires new habits quickly. Once, had he stumbled upon a corpse on the street, he would have called the police. A crowd would have gathered, and much talk and comment would have ensued. Now he knows he must avoid the dark body lying in the gutter, and refrain from asking unnecessary questions. The man who fired the gun must have had his reasons; he might well have been executing an Underground sentence.

"If somethign exists in one place, it will exist everywhere"
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I find this book so amazingly dense. I've had it for a week now, and i'm only 20 pages in. But I find that I'm reading every paragraph twice, and picking up so many new things along the way.

When someone is hostely 55% right, that's very good and there's no use wrangling. And if someone is 60% right, it's wonderful, it's great luck, and let him thank God. But what's to be said about 75% right? Wise people say this is suspicious. Well, and what about 100% right? whoever says he's 100% right is a fanatic, a thug, and the worst kind of rascal
- An Old jew of Galicia
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I wish I was european, they're names are so beautiful.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

.Triptych-

This is not a picture of a rag. This is a picture of my paint cloth. It has a title thankyou very much.
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My very first design project at Monash University. I was excited to begin with, but it got a bit tedious in the end.

We were given two objects and a word: Stapler, A pair of headphones, and the word 'vague'; and told to represent them in some way. So with these objects, I added a little magic.


the headphones
( THANKYOU SUNNI)

the word: vague

the stapler.
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S: Balser wood is a planar material. It's also very malleable
E: *facepalm*...why am i around these people

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I handed in this project today, along with a sort oral presentation on our ideas and concepts. My work seems so shallow and superficial. Everyone else seemed to bring a meaning to their project, deeper thoughts and concepts. Everything of mine I do, because it looks cool, or because I think it would be amusing.

I was tired today, having rushing this project when it was due the night before (good time management eric!). I ended up sleeping at like 4am, after painting for 5 straight hours. So thus therefore, I have establish a relation between the level of fatigue and my tolerance of people. I don't think I can stand the people for much longer, I'm such a snob.
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p.s. I should get off my ass and study more.