WOLLONGONG TOWN HALL PROJECT POSTCARD SERIES

As previously mentioned here are the postcards I churned out for the Wollongong City Council Town Hall Project I have been working on since February.
Distilled into a set of 8 is months - hundreds of hours - of interviewing, transcribing, researching, cataloging, designing, chasing and copy writing. It doesn't look like much but there you have it. They were all meant to initially be semi-fictional notes on the backs, but in the process it didn't quite work out that way - that's cool, I am flexible. The two here are based on real stories and events, but changed to fit the brief.
Usually once I have sent something to the printers, I could happily eke out the rest of my days, never wanting to clap my peepers on it, whatever it is, ever again - so sick of it am I. Not these babies. The whole project has been a hoot and I will later post some of my favorite images that we collected from members of the public.
Click on postcard images below for a better read.

HOME SWEET HOME

Some images from Banksy's new show which just opened at Bristol Museum, it's been kept secret from everyone except a few curators and buyers for months. It also includes his Pet Shop work from the New York exhibition as well as some other previous work.

A U-HAUL FULL OF TOWN HALL

I guess everybody has been wondering what I have been up to (apart from exposing and dissecting how the corporations are attempting to mind control us through their retention and detention of most of the population via social networking sites, as per my previous post).

The answer is, certainly not enlightening anyone via here, right?

I shut up shop for a while because I just felt it wasn’t fair to keep the blog open while I wasn’t intending to write for a few months. It was also an opportunity for me to be more focused on other things by not regularly feeling guilty about maintaining things over here.

Anyway, As usual, never a dull or often, a spare moment – nothing has changed there.

There have been a lot of things going on and certainly some interesting developments. I am working on several things at once, and have been for some time. A couple seem to be really moving along, and look like they will come to fruition over the next year or two. For multi-disciplinary types like myself (finally a term has been recently coined – “Slashie”, which for once I am happy to identify with), I think the best strategy is to be cooking a few things at the same time and throw them all on the table for a degustation by various bodies. People will usually nominate the taste of a couple that agrees with most of them and want the recipe, so to speak.

Okay, so the deal with my preoccupied state is that in late January, I called the local council to pitch an idea I had for an exhibition. In one of those super-fortuitous moments of being in exactly the right place at the right time, it so happened that a position became available pretty much at that exact moment and a couple of days later, they called and asked me if I was interested in a job. So of course I said HELL YES.

Since then I have been working on a Social History Research project about the Wollongong Town Hall, which has been, well – just about everything in it’s time from a burial ground to school of arts. We’ve found some gorgeous images, hundreds of ‘em - and I have designed a series of postcards which will be issued in 10 days, once it’s official I will release them into the wilds of the interweb. It is however drawing to a close over the next fortnight, which is going to be kind of a good thing as it seems to have become all-consuming to say the least, and I’ve almost had enough of it really.

So after having a lot of fun with it, at last I am looking forward to it being over. It’s been very enjoyable, but much harder work than you’d think for various reasons, and much harder than I anticipated.

My other projects wait patiently for my attentions, but if projects had feelings they would be starting to get pretty uppity with me around now. So soon I’ll be able to get back to them and write some more here about where it’s all at, interesting and enjoyable tidbits I’ve run across, offers and propositions, as well as the never stale topic of the stupidity of the general population who should know better, and associated things that annoy the fuck out of me.

In the meantime, I am now maniacally and obsessively tweeting on Twitter TM.

HOW FACECROOK STOLE MY FREEDOM

So, people want to know, why did I get my account deleted from Assbook TM?

Isn't it obvious? I say what I am thinking, (but not usually before thinking about it). I'm very rude and it annoys the hell out of everyone!

Seriously, I made a sarcastic remark about the "sanctity" of traditional marriage having little merit as my status:

May 24 Darian Zam is dubious about straight marriage given the track record, but thinks they should still be allowed to.

I left it there for three or so days for a change, just simply because I have been WAY too busy with work to have time for recreational activities.

I had my account disabled, because some inbred troll from gemployee of Facebook, took offence to my opinion, I guess according to their terms of service I am "discriminatory" (against a continually discriminating majority). If anything, At least they are consistently and completely fucked in the brain!

There the Irony lies...It seems someone with no logic whatsoever thought my cynical one-liner is going to cause some powerful bigot (who can’t see my account unless they are friends with me anyway, and I don’t have friends like that) to have a complete revelation and change their opinion about Prop 8, and that one opinion would cause a landslide, a massive domino effect where gays take over the world (newsflash: they have, decades ago, you just don’t know about it.)

I may even offend delicate sensibilities – heaven forfend! This is because whenever most people who are straight hear the word “gay”, they don’t think of a 1920’s themed party with paper lanterns and lots of beaded shifts, no- they think of ***** covered in ****. That is their own dirty, negative, misinformed minds at work and they freak themselves out. True.

Last time it happened that they deleted my account, this was for

 You will not post content that is hateful, threatening, pornographic, or that contains nudity or graphic or gratuitous violence.

I posted a picture of a friend in very low-slung pants. The top of his buttocks could be seen. It was NOT showing his ass. I thought it was funny and so did everyone else. OK, funny or hot. OK mostly hot.

It was so ridiculous an excuse that in less than 24 hours they had to admit they didn't have a real reason for what they had done and reinstated me, but they just didn't admit they were WRONG or even APOLOGIZE for the ruckus it caused.

What I did learn from this was that, since no friend of mine would have taken offence, it means that Facebook specifically employ individuals to troll through your account when you are not around, and probably to make up a quota and get their work over with, they will find any flimsy non-reason to create a purported “breach of terms”.

This time around, they are just ignoring my messages to supply a reason. This is because they know I'm right, and they're wrong!

I have had much joy from Facebook over the last year, and it has brought me almost equal amounts of pain. I'm no revolutionary, and even if I was, no-one cares what I have to say anyway– but they do find my glittery bon mots at the least amusing. Yes, sometimes those bon mots are just turds rolled in glitter, but I give my oath, to give Facebook YEARS of bad publicity for their homophobia, thinly disguised under their Statement of Rights and Responsibilities clause:

 You will not use Facebook to do anything unlawful, misleading, malicious, or discriminatory.

This gives them any excuse, for a random individual employed by Facebook who doesn't agree with your outlook to discriminate against YOUR religious beliefs, political stance, or sexuality: to erase your presence if you speak out - as one person’s tiny mind - sneaking around in your account, going through your stuff, probably while you are sleeping - sees fit.

Also, let’s snuff out all humour while we are at it, the world doesn’t need it to survive!

Although FB enable several automated bots, real people also trawl the site. If they find something they happen to not agree with, they flag your account. This means that you are marked as sending spam. If you collect a few, your account is removed.

This enables Facebook to discriminate against their members, no matter who you are, in a very thinly disguised way - and get away with it completely. It seems so pointless and a waste of time and energy to pay others a salary to do this, MILLIONS of dollars that could be better spent doing something constructive for society, for many worthy causes. I also find it completely bizarre that a social networking site continually works towards alienating their members. The very people that give them their power. Just watch their value slide as people abscond, it’s only a matter of time and coming to a stock exchange near you in the near future.

I’m going to say it right out loud –

Facebook are making a shitload of money off me and you, and they are treating us like DIRT.

As per other major events regarding their fraudulent changes to terms of service this year, we know they are not honest - we have very public evidence. They have no respect whatsoever for their members and are completely unapologetic about it. N o wonder droves are leaving for other, more user friendly po-pomo mini bloggy things like Twitter that don’t make what is supposed to be fun, harrowing – and let’s face it, have a better looking, much less annoying, unproblematic layout where features don’t inexplicably die on you. Facebook the corporation are actually deluded enough to deem themselves a "necessity" in our lives.

Amen for freedom of speech in this glorious country, and let’s not forget how privileged we are!

Therefore I can freely say, FUCK YOU IN THE ASS, FACEBOOK!

Update: It took a week of emailing every day but I finally received this answer from the Facebook Team:
Your account was disabled because you exceeded Facebook's limits on multiple occasions when sending friend requests, despite having been warned to slow down. However, after reviewing your situation, we have reactivated your account.

This claim is bogus - I haven't had a warning to this account for months, I rarely add anyone just because the whole thing started to bore me a long time ago, and I have hardly been using the service for weeks due to the fact I've been too busy, as above. Nice try though.

Further Update, June 01: Facebook have now disabled my main account again, and also my backup account after I argued with them that they are making false claims to stop me using their service. I am truly over their fictions and harassment, so it's time to kick that bitch to the curb for good. Now you'll find me over at TWITTER, where people have told me that they are not such arseholes to their members.

Further Update, June 13: Facebook are STILL using my profile on the site and still sending me messages from my account. I have written to them and instructed them firmly to quit it - since they don't want me to use their service, they can afford me the same courtesy and stop using my information.

THROW THE BOOK AT ME


Nothingness, 2008


I never started out to write a book, it’s just something that happened to me on the way to the grave, to partly paraphrase one of Mr. Quentin Crisp’s more well known quips . And probably the fact that I never really had a major passion to write a book, will annoy some people who consider themselves real writers, whatever that may be, those who live for getting a book deal, putting one out, recieving hoards of adoration, pats on the back, etcetera. I for one am not sure what denotes a real writer, but some people may argue that a real writer is trained, qualified and very practiced at the craft, all things I’m definitely not. I’m not a real writer then. But I have written enough to qualify, and it's good enough. So throw the book at me.

I figure if someone like Geri Halliwell can can get someone else to write and put out two autobiographies, or rather squeeze them out like nuggets, then so could I – at least one time around. God knows I have produced plenty of shit in my time. Next step: A Yoga video. The fact that I don’t know anything about Yoga, doesn’t seem to matter, nor would it necessarily stop me.

Another question I was briefly discussing with my friend Amanda Van Gils recently , is that it’s amazing how many people we know who are artists, but also write, and not only that they are very good at both. It’s a very interesting question to ponder. Personally, I put it down to Synaesthesia.

Synaesthesia is a is a neurologically based phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second one.
I’ve always seen very strong visual images prompted by letters and especially words. Somehow I am able to reverse channel this process back to turn visuals into evocative words and sentences.
I guess it's why I was so good at design, starting with a brief, which can straight away be the nail in the coffin for a lot of would-be graphic artists, stylists, illustrators or whatever . Some client would babble " For this ad, I want a hat that looks like a breadstick!" And I knew exactly what they meant straight away even if I thought it was stupid and I could do it, whereas other people would just eventually break down and cry. Somehow I'm able to take other people's semi-retarded fuckery and make it work. More fool me I often think.
I’ve always as long as I can remember seen colors as taste, and also flavours and colours as words. That's some loco shit going down right there!
In fact I was quoted in a press article as early as 1992 talking about how I paint with flavours. Although it was part of the schtick for my image to promote an exhibition I was having at the time, Trashland, , I wasn’t actually inventing it – it’s for real, and it’s called Grapheme.

Any kind of continual writing means most importantly constantly finding material, and I think that, well in my opinion, pretty much anything qualifies as such. It’s a very pop concept, that in a Warholian gathering of information, anything, is valuable and interesting enough to qualify as stuff that can be harnessed and used or in my case, often used as ammunition. So it becomes all-consuming, I become totally sucked into it, everything else in my life is abandoned, Lizards run through the house and eat dropped chips off the carpet and I ignore it.

It becomes so intense that everything I think, see and do becomes part of my writing work, just the same as everything becomes part of my painting or drawing or photography work when I am doing that, and there's no room to really think of anything else.
I have the odd moment where I fear writing will impinge on my art work, but I try not to let it bother me when my mind goes over to that thought, that's just frippery.
Basically what is happening is that I moved from mostly working with simply images , to working with one word or slogan with images, to pieces of writing combined with images.
Where do I go from here? I think that I will go back to simply images, but the text will be the title only. It will be interesting to see what comes next, and that said, this year is already bringing some very interesting possibilities.

BETTY DIDN’T NO

Betty Page feature in Black and White Magazine, written by Nic Frankham, 1995

Since saucy pin-up legend Betty Page passed away recently, I posted a picture on my Facebook account of this piece, that is in the Powerhouse Museum, Sydney. It’s in the Decorative Arts and Design Collection, along with many other famous names like Marc Newson and Vivienne Westwood, Florence Broadhurst and Issey Miyake, a lot of people whose work I love and admire. Thus I am honored to be part of that assembly of famous objects by internationally celebrated names.

I created this piece, Betty Page, with Brenton Heath-Kerr, who made a series of extraordinary costumes as his practice, which he often wore in public as art. Now most of his remaining work is in the collection of Australian Museums. We both had a very similar idea which we had discussed, so decided to collaborate on this piece, which we made from scratch in just 48 hours. All the sketches I did that were ultimately used to create this piece, I have since gifted to the PHM collection too, as well as written an essay on Brenton and his work for them.

Anyway, after putting up the photo, an old friend of mine commented something along the lines of “oh it’s great to see that brilliant piece of Brenton’s again.” Although tiresome, I had to put him right and these days there’s really no-one to stop me. Um NO, actually it was a collaboration of two artists. It was publicly acknowledged in print as so. And it’s MY signature on it, sealed under laminate, not Brenton’s - to prove the point.

It’s an interesting story how this came to belong to the museum. In fact Brenton and I created this piece with the Powerhouse in mind, to sell it to them in the near future and split the clams – we were practically rubbing our hands together in anticipation. This was back in 1994. Unfortunately Brenton passed away at quite a young age, the following year. He was only 33, and it’s strange to think now that I am now quite a bit older than he ever lived to be.

I might add his family never really liked any of Brenton’s friends, but did a passable job of concealing their complete disapproval and disdain, just tolerating them for his sake. Probably, we were useful at the time. But they never respected any of the friends' wishes after he was gone ( I get the idea that they saw us as deviant Sydney low life, but then playing that ignorant judgemental game right back at them, I happen to think pretty much the same thing about Gold Coast trash). Nor did they respect any of Brenton’s wishes for that matter the minute he wasn’t there to speak for himself. Some big love.

Not long after this, with the help of a mutual “friend” (I do not use those quotation marks lightly as he was a devious, double crossing little troll on more than one occasion) who probably had his palm crossed with silver to grease the tracks of the process, they sold Betty Page to the Powerhouse Museum exclusively as Brenton’s work for an undisclosed sum of money ( the family lied to me after I found out and said it was a donation to the museum, but the fact that it was sold for cold hard cash was confirmed by the Powerhouse during a meeting I conducted with them).

I still have a letter where the family, as well as claiming not to have any knowledge of my involvement (apparently this automatically excuses you from being responsible), incredulously claim to have, and I paraphrase, “received no percentage or commission”. I am always kind of mystified, as to why people have the gall to do something like this, but when confronted, there are excuses, denial, lies and back-pedalling. If you didn't care enough to feel any guilt about doing it in the first place, stand up and OWN IT. Don't start getting gutless. Just say "Yeah, I did. Now what the fuck do you think you're going to do about it, bitch?".

Yes, they decided to do this behind my back and hoped I wouldn’t find out. I always thought taking something that didn’t belong to you, as well as selling it, was stealing. I was taught that was WRONG. Also, purporting that something is what it’s not, claiming it’s exclusively the work of one person the museum is intending to collect - isn’t that LYING? I was also taught that was WRONG. Lying and stealing and concealing financial gain, tsk tsk. That’s how fine upstanding families, who strive to separate themselves from the hoi polloi, behave, right? What an exceptional example.

Betty Page photographed by Mazz Images

After I found out about the cheating and deviousness that was going on behind my back, I had to really fight for my attribution and in the end I got it, but not without a lot of legal consultation and hard work. Yes, it cost me over something that was simply and clearly my right. However It ended up kind of improving my relationship with the museum if anything. They were quite cooperative. The family on the other had, when found out, were arrogant and totally unapologetic. They weren't going to offer me any compensation, not even so much as a sorry that they had mercilessly ripped me off, and they were pretty much counting on me not to sue their sorry asses.

The money I was not so worried about, but it would have been nice, since that for two thirds of my life I have lived in total poverty and have waited patiently like a tick in a tree branch for moments just like this one when I can sell some work for some major bucks and catch up, you know, buy some shoes that don’t have holes, stuff like that. I've never asked for much and I think that may be the problem.

Of course I was furious at the time, but what irked me more was someone telling me I should “just get over it and walk away”. Yes, someone actually tried to make ME feel bad about standing up for my rights, when clearly I was the victim in the situation. I am sure that if everyone did that when faced with adversity we’d really get nowhere . Unfortunately, if I am sure someone is wrong, I will stand up and tell them so, and in front of others. If everyone condones this sort of stuff and never says or does anything about it, it perpetuates wrong-doing. Nothing would ever change for the better. Some of us would still be sitting up the back of the bus, in fact some of us essentially still are. And others would insist that is where we should stay. That's how I felt I was treated, no, that's how I WAS treated by Brenton Heath-Kerr's executors and family.

Anyway since so many years have passed and I am now getting old, fat and complacent, I’ve learned to focus on the positive elements, that it’s in a good collection, it’s good for my name and career. I also believe that anyone who crosses me usually has something pretty unfortunate befall them sooner rather than later. It’s turned out to be almost a rule.

It was just another incident in a long list where again, I get pushed into the background as someone else gets the credit, or makes a lot of money off my talent. This has happened a few times over the years now and in a way I should take more control to ensure it doesn't happen. But it really isn’t my responsibility in life to police the morals of other people and drive them in the right direction, nor is it my job, when often my job has already been done.

Although I very much subscribe to the “Don’t ask, Don’t Get” school, I also truly believe in not elbowing my way to the front viciously and talking myself up, I don’t feel like I have to. Not only have I been around for a LONG time doing what I do, but also to me that’s a really tacky way to conduct yourself and any credibility you’re hoping to accumulate instantly vaporizes. It's always the same type of person that does this, a person who doesn't really believe in themselves or their talent. On the other hand, I don’t have individuals beating down my door getting me to write, curate or do commissions. I'm always the one that has to "do the work". So, there is a balance to maintain.

More importantly, I like to trust in people to do the right thing without constantly having to hang over their shoulder and micro-manage them ( I know a few people who can’t help but do this with every detail of everything, and not only is it tiresome and irritating, but reeks of insecurity and is ultimately a disservice to themselves, their relationships, and their career).

In the past, I have liked to be known as easy-going to work with, to be flexible, as well as learn to look at things in a different way from working with others, so I have preferred to say to people “Do whatever you like”, and hope that it’s in their personal interest to make sure whatever they do is the best it can possibly be for everyone involved. But now, at my age, I don't see why I have to make an effort to "get on" with others when it's pretty clesar they don't afford me the same, nor are they interested.

Most people seem to take this “Do whatever you like”, from me, as not space to move, but instead “Make it the best it can possibly be, for ME alone, and fuck everyone else”. The sad truth is, they just don’t care to do the right thing for others, and often can’t be trusted to - and given the opportunity they try to cut me out of the equation and run away with everything they can get. I really wish I could believe that there is intrinsic good in people left to their own devices, like Ebay does and claims to prove, but it just isn’t the case from my experience of people.

So rather than withdraw from the world and refuse to create, refuse to interact, refuse to share, because there are a few human beings who insist on wrecking everything for everyone as long as it’s something in it for their insatiable ego, need for material possession and power, I guess from now on I am going to have to do a lot of this – saying NO. Not unless you've got some money for me up front. That’s all I’m sayin’ for ever more on the whole affair, because just thinking about it again makes me feel sick to my stomach that someone could so grossly disrespect me, my rights, my work.

Except one last thing - I bet my dear friend Brenton was TURNING in his grave over all of this, and for that I am sorry. Which is way more sympathetic and sorry than anyone else was over this whole tragic affair.

KABOOM WENT MY BRAIN

So back when I was a young dumpling, one day I got a call from the MCA, and they wanted me to come down there aysap and do some shit on this exhibition they were having troubles with. Yep. Call me Mr. Fixit, like a plumber with a paint brush. I grabbed my Manolo Blahblahs and trotted down there pronto.

I had already approached them for a job as a gallery attendant, preparatory, gum scraper anything to get my ass off the dole cue – previously, but like Amy they just said no, no, no.The caliber of their employees, who were mostly all artists full time or studying, must have been brilliant, and I obviously didn’t make the grade.

So, Since they were doing all these giant cut-outs of cartoon characters for the exhibition, they gathered a whole bunch of MCA employees together to do what they did best right? Paint some big scenery as planned by the shows curator, Melbourne artist/film maker Philip Brophy (at the time booty call of Art Star Maria Kozic, who had her giant blow-up “Blue Boy” on the roof).

Actually the whole thing was pretty hot. All the walls were painted Magenta or hot Orange, and there were all these orange vintage 1970’s bubble TV’s on pedestals. The over all effect with the enormous polystyrene cartoons was fab.

However there was a minor glitch, as it turned out. None of these supposed brilliant painters and what have you, could actually do the work once they picked up a brush.

The work wasn’t highly technical well to me anyway - Basically, you got the transparency, stuck it on a projector, traced the character, and painted it in with the correct colours, with linework to finish. What happened was, it turned out that nobody could actually do it without making a complete mess of the whole thing – let alone something as simple as match the colours correctly.

Actually the only person with any talent, who ended up doing a lot of the work with me, was a painter named Matthew Johnston who is now with Tim Olsen and has made quite a success of himself. Deservedly so, a very nice guy I recall.

Anyway although very hard work, it ended up being worthwhile because (although it took a few years) I did quite a lot more work with the MCA, but apart from that I got paid while I achieved three memorable things: I got to paint Jessica Rabbit’s boobs, I got to meet the guy that invented Astroboy, Osamu Tezuka, who was already ancient then, and I also met John Kricfalusi (Ren and Stimpy.)

The people at the MCA were nice, but of course it was basically the usual story - like all jobs in the creative field, you are so highly respected for your skills. Yes I am being sarcastic. So now when I think back all I hear is a record with a scratch in it that goes how-long-will-this-take, are-you-finished-yet, how-long-will-this-take, are-you-finished-yet.

Oh and apologies for the photo quality peoples – yes, polaroids were just cheap and nasty.