Melbourne 2014: Thoughts of an Uncouth Professional, is spawned.
It’s gripping to realize how little we need. Clean undies, money, music, sunshine. I suppose a passport to enter the next land. Some quick whit to get by… Water to replenish the soul, flush out the booze, and wash off the satisfying grime that’s been built up. Human connection is vital, may it be reality or virtuality; sharing is half the pleasure. Is there much more we need?
Most material items just get in the way, promote someone else’s dream and consume our precious time. Nothing matters like thyself. We forget this too often…. too easily.
Melbourne has a big heart. And, a big art scene. Art has a complex dynamic, doesn’t it? Almost naturally conflicted. We seek self expression, reflection and actualization, by sharing with others…. Think about that. Gut emotions surface through colors and shaped materials; those uncontrollable sensations that swell up and try to force themselves out. We try to channel them. We pier dimly down at the dark hollowness within and try to understand why, which is like to penguins pondering nuclear physics. So, we retreat into solitude and blindly combat the invisible with monotonous art of no real measure. It’s clearly paradoxical. Simply absurd. Vibrantly banal. I’ve lost myself to abstraction::: ART.
In the late 1840s, some dude, Edward Hargraves, was in California, shit out of luck striking gold during the “Rush”. He returned to Victoria, Australia. He noticed similarities in the terrain, suggesting gold Downunder, too. He was correct, there was gold! By 1854 Melbourne was of the richest cities in the world. Ed wrote a book.
Saint Kilda was the seaside Gotham East Side. Well, not really, but in the sense that it was the cool place to be, unless you were too cool, and you proudly avoided Kilda.