To: the people I fought for,
I admit, you’re fun to hang out with; but if I was in hospital, you wouldn’t even give a second thought to come and see me. The prospect of serious injury and your lack of compassion is an analogy to our friendship: I break my arms and my legs to latch onto the little interest you have in me, and you still don’t give a fuck.
Upon my unlimited naivety in trying to find the rational, genuine side of you, you have absolutely ripped my social conscience into pieces along with my already fragile emotional state that had been damaged years before I even met you. Do I want your sympathy? No. Do I want you to pity me so much that you will feel compelled to (un)willingly invite me into your destructive chain of social hierarchy? No. I’d rather keep my solemnity than stoop down into your lowly stable boy position you’ve kept vacant for me until you find someone else to play with.
It was effortless to adopt another persona whenever I was with you – the immense need to feel wanted, accepted and loved in a place where I was already meant to feel safe weakened me. It diluted any sense of conviction and strength within me. But now that I’m away from you, no longer do I fear self-consciousness or feel your tenacious intimidation.
For once, I am not blaming myself for the deleterious destruction of our friendship; technically, I did nothing wrong. Yet, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have realised the people behind me were the ones who cared the most. I’m not latching onto you like a pathetic child anymore. I’m not what you want, and you’re not what I need.
To: the most transparent, self-serving person I have ever had the displeasure of encountering,
Your pompous, disgustingly patronising nature rubs off on everyone around you, which is exactly why people suck so far up your ass to become apart of your self-entitled genus that you think that marginalising select people from your clique will cause you to become more superior amongst your own peers. You’re blind to see that maybe, just maybe, people actually don’t care about where you stand in your own group.
The emanation of your complete self-centeredness and inflated temperament makes it hard to breathe whenever I’m around you; which is something I now clearly realise. It’s your poorly constructed façade you hide behind which makes it so repulsively unbearable to tolerate. You’re not the great leader you think you are. Your authority and legitimacy was not gained by merit, and your cheap, plastic gold crown was produced in a capitalist-infested sweatshop.
But I’m glad that not everyone who claims to be friends with you is like that. Their inclusiveness enlightens me, and reassures me that perhaps not everyone is like you. It soothes my persistently unsettled mind about where I stand with everyone else around you. You’re the commencer of mass genocide; you’re the ringmaster of the oppressed minority; you’re the initiator of absolute destruction.
I hope your social ladder falls to its demise. Your military tactics are inferior to the brutality of merciless barbarians that encircle your empire.
The real world is cruel, and your walls are too weak to withstand the ruthless force of actuality.
In the tiny city of Canberra, there is a Glassworks. Many people miss stopping by this unique tourist attraction, while they rush past to see the sights of Parliament and the masses of galleries and museums around Capital Hill, but Canberra Glassworks is definitely somewhere worth the stop – especially to see the current resident exhibition: GLINT.
GLINT is an exhibition that showcases the works (in forms of glass and print) of four printmakers and four glass artists that have worked together over two months in the studios of Megalo Print Studio and Canberra Glassworks. The exhibition includes experimental tests and shows the development of artworks, as well as the finished form. The artists experimented with different colours – natural dyes and manufactured pigments, with different ways of projecting images onto different mediums.
As you enter the exhibition, one of the first artworks to capture your attention is Ben Rak’s works. Rak is a printmaker, but in this exhibition he has used glass as a medium through which he showcases his graphic skill and creative concepts.
Images of apartments and houses in Sydney are sandblasted onto clear glass blocks and sheets, symbolising the current fashion of living in “glass cubes” – open to public gaze. Some of his work is pictured below.
The standout work – which anyone who has been to the Glassworks will recognise – is of course, Mushrooms by Emilie Patteson (a Canberra glass artist) and Annika Romeyn (a print maker who studied Fine Arts in the United States). The two paired up as part of the artist-in-residency at Canberra Glassworks, and their thoughts and artistic values overlapped and fused together to form the incredible “magic mushroom” pieces. “Mushrooms” is inspired by a bunch of mushrooms initially found in a patch outside Megalo Print Studio, which captured both artists’ attention, and inevitably lead to the awe-inspiring glass works and prints, some of which are captured below.
Emilie Patteson and Annika Romeyn, Mushrooms
GLINT showcases the astonishing collaborative works of eight print and glass artists. The ones talked about above are only by three of the eight artists – if these interest you, you won’t believe how phenomenal the other pieces in the exhibition are! Go and check out the very modern, hands-on artworks at Canberra Glassworks before the 3rd of August 2014.
GLINT is on show at Canberra Glassworks from the 2nd of July 2014 until the 3rd of August 2014. For more information, visit canberraglassworks.com.
- Emma Sinn
LIMOUSINE - MAGIC HANDS (VIDEO REVIEW)
Release: July 16, 2014
Prior to the release of their debut album Let Me Hold You While You Fail, Melbourne duo Magic Hands have released a music video for the brand new single Limousine.
Written and recorded by Alex Badham and Lucy Roleff, Limousine's soft synths draw similar sounds to that of The XX, London Grammar and Big Scary, featuring simple vocals and a dark lyrical aesthetic comparable to that of teen pop sensation Lorde. Lyrics such as, “I want to be in the back of a Limousine” suggests the ongoing seek for fame and money associated and expected to come with the music industry.
The video directed by Magic Hands’ own, Alex Badham creates an armature dance audition with dark and gloomy vibes, also similar to that in the video for Lorde’s hit Royals. Dancers Hana Dawson and Jack Traylen move in perfect synch and time to the musical composition that develops an extra sense of compassion. A sudden turn of events in the clip, help to truly unveil the darkness and gore involved with the seek for fame, both in the music industry and out of it.
Limousine features soft relaxed sounds paired with soft relaxed images to create a more than ordinary music video.
- Natalia Scally