Moths Zombies

I have come to the conclusion that Moths are Zombie Butterflies. The following are my reasons:

1. They fly erratically and bump into everything, walls, ceilings, shelves, your face.

2. They always have an unnatural craving for light. A moth is passive in the night. But once you present to it a naked flame, it would try to consume it feverishly. Burning itself to death in the process. This is akin to the behaviour of zombies in the presence of humans. Zombies by themselves are very chill, they just lack the brains to crack out deck chairs and cool drinks. But once in the presence of humans? They become deviously bloodthirsty to the state of pure insanity.

3. Butterflies flutter majestically during the day. They come out to flutter, socialise and help pollinate flowers. Moths only come out at night to wreak havoc, and cause all sorts of mischief.

4. You barricade (closing windows and sealing doors) to your house to stop them coming in.

Abandoned Places

I'm not sure what it is, but I love the look of abandoned places. I think it's the atmosphere, the large amount of dust, the sense of age and history past. Or maybe it's the clutter. Or perhaps it's the feeling that you stepped back to a moment frozen in time.

Pripyat, Ukraine

Credits: Photo by Artgrin

Oradour-sur-Glane, France
Credits: Photo by Curreyuk on Flickr

Gunkanjima, Japan
Credits: Photos by Artsyken on Flickr

I definately need to go these places one day.

Bus Ride

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It's a frosty friday night. There's a high school student sitting in front of me on the bus. Still adorned in his dark blue school blazer, he sits alone on the first elevated area of the bus.

At first, he sits down silently, shifiting and figiting until he finds the most comfortable spot. Then he becomes motionless.

Eight minutues and four passengers later, he aruptly rips and ipod out of his inner blazer pocket, alongwith an entanglement of wires. I noticed that he doesn't use the tangle prevention slidy-thing, and his headset's plastic has yellowed with age. Methodically he untangles it all, plugs the jack into it's appropriate spot, and plunges into a world of music. Once again he becomes motionless.

I turned to look out into the night, only my reflection stared back at me in disbelief. I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. Yes, the stduent infront of me was twitching. It wasn't anything disconcerning, but it certinatly wasn't rythmic. It was isolated too. Only his head would nod, a little off to his right. I presumed it was his music, but I heard no muffled beats nor tones from his headphones.

And so it went on. The bus thundered in the darkness, and this boy's head nodded in erractially infrequent intervals. Then suddenly he raises his hand and drops it to his left. His movements were fluid like water, elegant and impressive. He had tired to reach the stop request button; but there was nothing there. His hand lingered pointlessly. He turned his head in suprise, then looked up and realised the button has been relcated above. He pushed it, a bell rang, the bus stopped, he got off.

What a massive tool.

Explaining the Religions derived the Old Testament.

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No, Moslems don't believe that Jesus was the messiah.

Think of it like a movie. The Torah was the first one, and the New Testament is the sequel. Then the Qu'ran comes out, and it retcons the last one like it never happened. There's still Jesus, but he's not the main character anymore, and the messiah hasn't shown up yet.

Jews like the first movie but ignored the sequels, Christians think you need to watch the first two, but the third movie doesn't count, Moslems think the thrid one was the best, and Mormons like the second one so much they started writing fanfiction that doesn't fit with ANY of the series canon.

-An Extraordinary Journey.

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...is such a zucchini of a brief. THis is what we had to do:

To design an exeriential journey from selected spaces within the Caulfield Campus, Monash University.

Now, it would all sound perfectly normal to you. But e

ssentially they're getting us to create three "emotional intereptations of spaces". (I think it's bullshit, pointless and a bit silly). Although I suppose the main purpose is to get all the design student to think outside of the box, so I guess it works.

As usual, at the beginning of this project, our design tutor fluttered around helping people grap ideas for this supposedly difficult brief. When she came to me, I present my idea. She replied. "I don't even know why I bother trying to give you more ideas. I think you've set the bar of how far you can push the brief everytime."
So here's my concept. The three "spaces" that I took was the university library, the multiple flights of stairs, and the campus cafe 'Mama Dukes'.

The Library, the labyrinth, the maze.

The wacky and tacky Mama Dukes'; which is going to have a cover surrounding it

(The library is hidden in the funny white shroud at the back)

And this is what it ended up looking like. Not exactly beautiful in my book.

But at this time of the year, I really could not be bothered.

The structures that i have made are supposed to represent three required elements of "dynamism, pattern and stablility". It was explained to us the 'dynamism' was the oppoiste of stablility, that at first glace it would look as though the buildig was moving, or unstable or falling apart.

Let me explain this concept. Having reflected that a lot of my design pieces seem to lack a bit of depth, for my reasoning was purely based on aesthetic and humour rather than deapth of thought...I decided to try something different. So I wrote something, a little story behind it all:

The journey begines at the library. The yellow figures are zombie representations of university students, in particular the Art and Design students. They all seek individuality, but the great irony is that they are all push through the same system, the winning formulae to achieve this greater education. It's a commentary on University life, we study the past to become something greater. We are all essentially graded against each other, so that the factory can dish away the rejects and the unsuitable. My extraordinary journey begins at the library, the fountain of knowledge, and leads towards the university cafe, which is cramped, and has a very homely feel to it. There, they are able to re-create, and be themselves and forget about the heinous grading system.

Surely this makes sense no?

Trios (x)

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It's a strange feeling floating against the ceiling. You get a two contradictory messages from your head: you're lying on your back, you're going to fall on your face. Though it's especially delightful floating in public places where you gaze gently down, and watch the masses scramble like ants. Up against the ceiling, you get a strange feeling of loneliness mixed, shaken, with a dash if superiority. It is odd indeed.

The ceiling is very different from the ground, for it is mostly void of obstacles; except for the odd occasional light fixture, or pillar. Apart from all that, it's just a large empty space of beauty and magnificence.

Pretentiousness strives up here. Everyone talks is complete sentences, without contractions, slang nor abbreviations. They all hide behind glorious masks, all too scared to relax, too perplexed, too paranoid of the views of the masses. But the reoccurring trend is that everyone on the ceiling seems completely unaware that the masses really couldn't care.

"Eric, what are you doing?" surprised I clumsily nudged the ceiling, turnning myself around. It was Smuck in his snappy suit, cigar smoldering in his mouth, glass of brandy in his palm.

"I dont know." I sincerely whispered. I looked down at myself, i was in a warm hoody and my most comfortable jeans; had a blunt pencil in one hand and a crumpled note in the other. I looked to my left and there were a few friends off in the corner admiring each others classically formal styles and cuts, playing a bridge and talking 'serious business'.
"Come Eric, come join us for a spot of bridge would you?" they invited
I looked back at Smuck. He shrugged and casually tossed his glass over his shoulder, rolled up his crip white sleaves over his jacket, fished out a small fedorer and wore it at an angle. He spoke chirpily, "There's a subtle difference between being stubborn and making a statement." He span, and joined a gang of loud intoxicated youths. "Come devious children, let us bring havoc to this pomposity of the night" he called out with a hungry toothy grin.

Perhaps it's time to loose some altitude, and come back down to earth; where I were born, where I belong.

You were never made, nor can you afford such exquisit tastes. So why delude yourself! Come back down. you know you don't belong there.

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Scribble, scribble, dot, dot, underline, and the musical tink of fallen wood.