Trash Bag

Hunting around for links between art and environmentalism I came across Nico Van Hoorn's Trashlog. Every day for three years he found something on the street that had been discarded and posted it to his website.

 I like it for lots of reasons. I like the aesthetic of bright and graphic objects dislocated from any meaning or utility. I like imagining the paths the objects took from their production to their disposal. 

I like knowing that something that has been forgotten by its original owner has found a new home. I like that it makes you think about all the things we throw away carelessly. 

I like the tenacity and determination of someone who can keep going with such a banal exercise to create something quietly wonderful. 

Goat Of The Day

This really does speak for itself: A ridiculous photo of a goat standing in front of some wallpaper. What more could you want in life? Thanks to Catherine's Animals via Lizzy via Tara's Facebook wall. (Yes I am a stalker). Goat! 

There Are No Words

My lovely friend Tara has a not so lovely, yet very curious obsession. She has a special soft spot for the truly bizarre and wondrous lives of sea creatures. Last night we were talking and she shared this small joy with me 

I think that it is, quite simply one of the most disgusting things I have seen in my whole life. As such I felt compelled to share. It is an isopod that eats out the tongue of sea creatures and then installs itself as a replacement, seemingly without too much detriment to the poor host. Argh. Yuk. Wow. If you can handle it, you can read the original article here

The Internet: The Good, The Bad and The Simply Curious

You just came on here to check your email and then all of a sudden you've been here for four hours, and you're several cups of coffee and many confused, delighted and disgusted facial expressions later. Welcome to the internet. 

This week I have thoroughly enjoyed trawling through Ashkahn Shahparnia's website which is a combination of his own graphic work 

and funny little bits of debris that he finds inspiring

(It's not all text, lots of pretty pictures too) 

I have been horrified and addicted to Crappy Taxidermy, a train-wreck-don't-want-to-know-but-can't-look-away inducing tidbit passed along to me by my partner. 

I've also had my curiosity piqued by the work of young Mr. Robin F Williams a 25 year old New Yorker. I can't quite decide if I love it or hate it? 

One Three Pretty

Seeing as Marco started on the subject of Mondegreens I thought I'd share one of my own. See the thing about mondegreens is once you've misheard a lyric you always construct a narrative in which the completely illogical version makes complete sense. I somehow, misguidedly I admit, convinced myself that Lovecats by The Cure was all about a call-girl based on the fact that I thought that Robert Smith was belting out the phone number to ring for love...

...One Three One Three One Three One Three Pretty

Oh you know I'd do anything for you... 

As soon as it was suggested to me that perhaps it was instead "Wonderfully Pretty" I had to concede that it might make sense. Well, I didn't concede as much as try to fight to death because I thought I was right and everyone else was wrong. Have a listen and see if you can hear what I'm on about... 

...Still at least it's not as bad as my mother who was convinced that "I believe in miracles, you sexy thing" was "I believe in milkos".... you know, the little white chewy lollies. Hmm. 

Over The Hills And Far Away

"The things one finds wandering in a landscape: familiar things and utterly unknown, like a flower one has never seen before, or, as Columbus discovered, an inexplicable continent; 
and then, behind a hill, as if knitted by giant grandmothers, lies this vast rabbit, to make you feel as small as a daisy. 
The toilet-paper-pink creature lies on its back: a rabbit-mountain like Gulliver in Lilliput. Happy you feel as you climb up along its ears, almost falling into its cavernous mouth, to the belly-summit and look out over the pink woolen landscape of the rabbitÌs body, a country dropped from the sky; 
ears and limbs sneaking into the distance; from its side flowing heart, liver and intestines. 
Happily in love you step down the decaying corpse, through the wound, now small like a maggot, over woolen kidney and bowel. 
Happy you leave like the larva that gets its wings from an innocent carcass at the roadside.
Such is the happiness which made this rabbit.
i love the rabbit the rabbit loves me.

After almost 5 years of knitting the rabbit found its final place in the italian alps (close to Cuneo). It waits there to be visited by you. You might even take your time or check back every now and then as the rabbit will wait for you 20 years from now on."

gelitin 

Hase / Rabbit / Coniglio

Artesina, Piemont, Italy

2005 - 2025

The AntsR

The universe directly balanced Polo’s nice work day with mine being several kinds of unfortunate. I managed to exit one work location early, on the grounds of being ill and fairly useless, only to pass another personal work hotspot to see the man I am forever karmically indebted to swamped with customers.  I jumped in, worked hard for a few hours, received some free though somewhat odd tasting bread and accidently accrued more karmic debt to this super Samaritan by accepting an offer to have a rope ladder made on my behalf.

The point of this post, before I suddenly discovered a whole vault of angst that needed exercising, was to start sharing my mondegreens. 

 Lyrics I’ve misheard and wrongly sung at people often enough to eventually have be corrected and be made aware of my adaptation. This month I’ll start on a favourite one I’ve always struggled to relinquish; “ants are my friends, they’re blowing in the wind. The ants are blowing in the wind...”