I'm making... TOAST!

Surprise update - I found my camera, behold, toast:

this is what happens when I get the afternoon off.

hips! Hoops!

I just discovered new ways to make bread unhealthy yet colourful:

this courtesy of the blog Sunday Hotpants. Coloured milk, painted on bread, and then you toast the bread. Simple really. I'm fighting a powerful urge to make Fairy Bread now. I wasn't really exposed to these sorts of things as a child, so I rather enjoy the wonder of it now.

I picked up my red-and-white hula hoop for the first time in a while today. The weather's getting sufficiently clement for me to start making an ass of myself outdoors again, and I'm under a strict injunction from the doctor to not be such a goth and get some Vitamin D in me.

Exploring the new and frightening world of hotpants, I came across some merino wool short shorts online. This is all very new to me - the idea of wool around one's bottom seems perilous but apparently it's not. I'm trying to ascertain whether one wears these as actual shorts or as undies, either way they seem like they'd make acceptable shorts for warm days. Very tempted to make these the garments for my Show Your Damn Legs challenge...

playing with shapes

So on a windy and uncouth weekend, what do I do with myself?
I start to think about shapes. This makes a bit of sense because I'm in the middle of a fiddly sewing commission. Some of the people who want me to make stuff are very keen to get something made to measure because they think it will 'fix' an aspect of their body they don't appreciate so much. The last show I did was interesting but I realise the clothes I had the most fun making were those that followed or amplified bodies. It was very interesting to be working alongside a corsetier but I at the same time, perhaps I would have preferred to let my models have more freedom of movement. Perhaps it's all down to personal preferences; I happen to like clothing that shows a bit of shape - especially bellies and hip-curves. I get a little sad when I see somebody who has pleasant, youthful curves squash their figure down flat in front and behind with bodices or those horrible elastic trousers they sell at Farmers. I have a corset but seldom wear it; to me, it's a piece of symbolic fashion (tip of the hat to a particular era and its politics or aesthetic) but wearing a corset is kind of the entry-level phase of dressing. I want to break past that and do something better with my shape on the days when I sport a little belly. It only seems fair to my commissioners that I try to work out, okay, what is going to look good on curves without compromising mobility?

So here is a little photo essay that follows my musings about how to treat curves and curvy people. I'm still not even close to understanding what to do for boys; it's an entirely new world to me. So starting with a less challenging task, here are different treatments of one very nice looking model, Crystal Renn.

Rrrar. *ahem. Picking this lady as an example is problematic for a bunch of reasons - for one, she's a normal size, maybe even a little smallish compared with the average New Zealand population. She's also proportionate - you know, she has a waistline, there's an hourglass figure going on there so it's difficult to conceive of someone like Ms. Renn wanting to conceal one particular attribute like a lot of shoppers seem to. To counter that, I'd remind readers that the shoppers I encountered in retail, as well as the people expressing an interest in my garments, have been all sizes, many of them have been skinny. Skinnier than I am that's for sure. I'd wager that insecurity is far more of a factor than actual measurements.

Here's a treatment I like. I can see a much bigger person in this outfit and looking even better. It's taken me a while to realise that real-woman thighs actually look quite fetching in short garments - maybe a throwback from my slightly puritanical style of dress as a child, who can say really? I'll toss that notion aside first chance I get this year, I promise! Bring on the short pants!
I also like the fact that the top's sleeves aren't disguising the arm but instead mould to it. Arms like this are lovely. I get very sad when women worry that they have big arms - it just doesn't make sense to go through life with stick-like limbs. though I can appreciate an older lady who's been out in the sun a lot wanting to put her upper arms away and be more safe in the NZ climate, I don't see why that should stop people from wearing form fitting tops.

Again a yes to the bare legs... I'm in two minds about adding more fabric to boobal regions, sometimes it feels like a misguided attempt at disguise, but I think this texture is compact enough that it works. At first I thought I preferred Renn in her more glamorous shots but then I saw this:

-oh that's nice... and this:

asfgaskfgjkagn! Daaaamn.
I think we've got proof here that a less obviously put-together look can net some astonishing pictures. and that dress (or even the one above it)? Simple! Not put together with dozens of panels or distressing froofy cling-ons. I can see not just me wearing these outfits, but plenty of people I know. I do like the theatrical stuff but maybe a bit of adipose tissue does its own job of adding interest to a look....
... also this post makes me want to eat more pies.

It's my intention to erect a photoscreen in the sewing room, get a decent light source and do a few shoots. This means I can also take some pictures of myself - oh dear. I'm a bit terrified about the prospect of being on the intertubes, in short pants, but if the Fatshionista can do it then so can I, dangit.

a shadowy figure flits past

The flat cap's on the 'at stand, the whippets 'ave bin fed
-Bela Lugosi's Dad

I itch to play a set of often-disregarded 'soundalikes' - sounds like the Cure, sounds like Sisters, etc - that've gotten a little obscure to the ears of the EBM generation. If they can field Project Pitchfork clones on goth night then I can play the Damned with impunity (distressingly, the Damned sound a lot more decent than I ever gave the buggers credit for. Time to haul out the whiskey and lament recent developments in deathrock?) Hence the Mission quote above.

An essential part of the whole lousy, motheaten Goffick culture is self-parody; and that's a good thing. How else could the shambling beast have survived this long? I've been taking stock after the riotous mess of a show that was Black Circus 3 - a fun mess! - and I've realised that what makes me enjoy the alternative creative scene is the ability to not be all serious all the time. So we can field culturally sensitive garments made from harakeke and at the same time joke about robbing starmart wearing the stocking masks that come with the outfit. Or run a retro-inspired, vaguely jazz-age set in a mansion, under chandeliers, in the middle of a recession and using thrift-store materials. The pleasure's in the perversion.

I'm going to start up with the blog posts again, and associated artistic nonsense, now that the all-consuming clothing nonsense is over, the carnival's closed down for Christmas, and the whippets have been fed. On the horizon lurk amusing possibilities and more complex ones. I'm rueing my decision to put up my hand for a bit of storyboarding for a mate's project. And delighting in the possibility of taking a small theatrical turn in a very, very peculiar Fringe festival production in March of next year...

... if all goes as planned I shall be portraying a psychopathic armoured muppet crustacean. I don't know about you, dear readers, but doesn't that sound like an invitation to something sublime in its dementia? I am all over this... ALL over it.
http://theseductobot.blogspot.com/ is the link to the fledgling production site. I'll post a little more when I have more news to relate. The whole thing's the curious brainchild of Rose Deschamps, an expressive and witty singer/songwriter and all around Good Person. Nor is she the only friend of mine trying to rehabilitate the reputation of the Musical Theatre genre! Truly I know some amazing and funky people - who also happen to have an excellent sense of humour.

more shoulders than the 80s

I've been making armour out of hex wire and papier mache. And naturally, halfway through this marathon I discover the existence of craft foam... oh well! playing with glue is never a bad thing. I should have a wide range of assorted items for the Uprising gig at this rate :) Pictures will follow once the things look interesting (rather than, well, like lumps of newspapery oddity)

I'll have heaps of leftover hex wire, so I think I might make some kind of sculptural thing from it... hmm, plots can be laid. Actually I might do a forced-perspective overlay with sheets of painted wire-frame. Could look awesome against a plain white background!

grandmas are awesome

I just got home from dinner at my grandmother's place. The atmosphere was really warm and lovely. I forgot how much I enjoy just talking with my grandma. My husband thinks I resemble her more in recent times - we looked at an album of photos from 4 years ago and it's true that I was a very different-looking creature back then. Interesting how time affects some things really brusquely and leaves other things weathered but essentially unchanged.

Rev. Tim got back to me today, and I foresee a bit of spiritual dialogue going on over time. For now it's enough of a shock to realise there might be a few people out there who could help inform my funny set of views about the world and life and the next life. It's not unlike discovering the queer community I think - you think you're a special snowflake or a crazy freak, following that teenage assumption so many of us make that we're all alone in the universe (how silly, but it happens all the time!) and then - then suddenly there's not just the possibility of one person, but a whole tribe who might share a common experience with you. It's awesome, by which I mean it's wonderful and terrifying all at once. Once again I am peeping through the doorway between my little cell and vast, unexplored halls.

I have also snared myself a great swag of interesting metal oddities and useful widgets for the Uprising gig.... I have a lot of armour and clothes to put together by the 1st and it's going to be a bit hectic, but now I'm properly prepared, it all feels like it'll come together nicely in the end. And I don't begrudge having some work, it's been refreshing in its way and I'm gaining confidence by learning to do something new and discovering I'm pretty good at it.

my body is a garment

When my dear friend says that the body is a garment, this is what I imagine.

cuddles are not always good

Here's an excerpt from a small online repository called the Theology of Hugs:

"The theology of hugs is really the theology of love. Think of a common experience. A young child is playing happily, all is sunny and peaceful and then he falls down, skins his knees and runs hurting, crying to his mother. She hugs him, reassures him, and in that one act restores order and trust to the world. Her actions help the child believe that it will be all right, you can go back now to playing. That is the basic theology of hugs. At times when words won’t do they remind us of our human connections.

"But hugs are not always safe. If boundaries are not clear they can leave you feeling intruded upon, even invaded. As with love, that overused word, you can only hug freely or love someone else if you first love yourself. And to do that you must know who you are. Part of that is setting limits. Love and hugs are not panaceas. No one has a right to demand a hug from you. Some of us have trouble saying no, others have trouble trusting others, and thus cannot say yes. Few of us can do that dance of intimacy really well. Couples, friends, co-workers send conflicting signals: come close, no, now go away! Few couples are all the time, or even most of the time in the same place when it comes to closeness. And sometimes we all have to say “No.” Sometimes we have to save ourselves."

Why'm I mentioning this? Aren't I the person who commonly says that "cuddles are always good"?
I'm retracting that statement.
It's not even that I feel incapable of providing others with a crutch sometimes - I'm far more disturbed by my own atavistic need for human contact. It seems as though by seeking out a simulacrum of comfort, I'm avoiding a more important job. Basically, I'd rather make my own self-esteem and self-love. Then when I do embrace a person, it might mean something.

That's not to say social hugging's out; there's what I like to think of as the We Are Family hug - you know, that experience at a social gathering where you are expressing solidarity with people in your circle. It's nice to make a gesture of bonding and celebrate your common identity. But too often I worry that when I gravitate to a person and give them a bear hug, I'm trying to stave off feelings of awkward loneliness by seizing on the few people I know at that party/show/conference. That... doesn't seem fair.

poster! and tramp stamps?

I've got a picture to show you:

that's my draft for the next Black Circus poster - another thing I've been messing with at the same time as the radio show. There are a lot of names to fit on the bill! I love Wellington's collaborative spirit. We aren't a big town in terms of alternative culture, but I think we squeeze the most out of our community because - for better or worse - we all know each other a little.

I was thinking about my particular flavour of religious belief today and drew a slightly comic parallel. I think I shied away from making a big song and dance about being gnostic when I was a teen for the same reason I shied away from getting a tattoo as a kid.
What would my teenage tramp-stamp off the wall have been (spiritually speaking)? Maybe something like this:

heh heh heh

Blake's simple and boldly coloured approach to contrary Christianity sure had some appeal to me as a teenager. I can still appreciate the spirit of general adolescent discontent that made me think about living differently somehow. There's a lot to be said for wanting to break a few rules before you set out to make your own. But after, oh, some twelve years of having this image hanging in my mind's eye, do I want to hold onto it forever? Not exactly.
So, Mr. Urizen over here with all his flaws is my 'tramp stamp'. Peace out y'all.

Logo design!

I've come a fair ways to get to this design, and it may need some tweaking - for one thing, the resolution's small and crappy. The font is Candice, a free and nice retro typeset to play with. I'm making these buggers up in the Gimp, which isn't quite as intuitive as Photoshop in places but makes up for it by being free!

Our next radio meeting is pencilled in for this Friday evening, so I should have a bit of an update then :)

Views. I haz them

It looks as though I'll be on a rather performative work assignment for the rest of the week - cold-calling businesses on behalf of our local wildlife sanctuary. If only more workplaces had lots of greenery and native birds nearby! Lunchbreaks would be much more effective. The business of ringing people you've never seen face to face, and dealing with a bunch of polite 'go away' responses, is really interesting. At first the 'no' answers are daunting, I find; you wonder if you're doing something wrong, it can even be draining. And then later on I guess the Zen aspect of going through your little sales patter comes to the fore. It's nice to get a 'yes' or a polite answer, but it becomes more about being in the call, perfecting your interactions, and basically finding satisfaction in the routine of it all. I don't mean to sound like I lack empathy for the cause in question; but I guess empathy alone isn't going to carry the day. Stepping back and making it a little less about Me is the way to go.

Today I made another sort of 'cold call' - the first step towards applying for an educational scholarship. Do you know much about the Soroptimists? They are actually kind of cool. I've always enjoyed flicking through issues of  Her Business magazine and the like, as I love the idea not only of female leaders in business and the community, but of a network of those leaders. Like an Old Girls' Club but with the inclusiveness that, I think, could come from women's collective experience of not always having it so good. That last bit is where the Soroptimists' scholarship comes in. It's explicitly not for first-years straight out of school; the purpose of the scholarship is to help mature people who've hit a turning point in life. Upskilling is specifically intended to help them work at a higher level, or break out of those periods of low employment a lot of women can get into. Health troubles and grief got me into my present unemployment; education feels like a way out, or certainly like a powerful tool to help me get out there. And what do the Soroptimists see women doing with that nice new job and those new skills? Turning right back around and giving their communities a boost. Yeah I can dig that.

It's funny how as a leftie, I'm always sort of assessing myself when I work; watching for signs that I'm being inauthentic; Uh oh, am I turning into a privilege-loving worshipper of Mammon? (I'm totally grinning as I type this) but fundamentally I just don't think that feels positive enough. I don't think working on the outskirts of the PR industry was my thing, but can you imagine if everyone who worked in and around the media industry was right-wing? I feel the same way about my desire to get into HR and specifically, recruitment. I'd like to lobby for a more sustainable hiring culture, one that values some left-wing ideals but in a practical way.
For instance, let's look at how Managers get picked. The chain of succession is so broken in most businesses, you could draw a red line across the chain of command right between the technical people and the managers.  The technical workforce is coming under pressure; wages are stagnating, job security just isn't there, and the trapdoor up and away into management is shut tight. Sure you can become a Line Manager, but what does that really mean? Doing your own job plus a ton of administration, often for no discernable pay rise and incurring the hatred of your former colleagues? Ick. And at every turn it's made clear to you that here's where you'll stay till you retire or expire.
Imagine if a blend of decent succession management and in-house training served to open the metaphorical trapdoor? Businesses could be run by people who, as in the traditional Family Firm model, started on the front line and worked their way through the ranks. It sounds a bit old-timey but the alternative -global hires- is not working out. I spent a couple of years watching the news for a job, and saw a lot of companies get in trouble, hire someone from overseas, and still be in trouble. Unless you're a truly globalised monster (in which case a bad CEO's a lot less of a problem than a bankrupt China) flashing your knickers and hoping to attract some white knight from overseas to Fix Everything will just not work. I do wish New Zealand would get over its presumption that anyone From Here must be a backwoods hick/anyone from Over There must be sex on a stick.

As for what will work in the long run? Well, I'm a leftie, and as a leftie I believe that a lot of economic values are skewed to start with, and could do with an overhaul. But I don't think anyone should stop doing the small bits of work in the absence of the Great Work, if you will. New Zealand's a bit young to have had any real capital-R Revolutions (though we've courted them at times perhaps!) but what we have had is a lot of Very Good Ideas.

Practice and doing it

This little messy place is born out of a need to do something useful with the many hours I spend parked in front of the internet. In part it'll be about my efforts to set up a specific project; a little audiocast, and I'm hoping I can share music I've been finding, how the cast itself comes to be, and little bits of design I might be doing. 


It's also about developing a habit. Till now I've had a notebook; I'll still carry that round with me. It's contained business cards, clothing designs and setlists; ramblings and sketches; all the sundry crap that comes to mind as I'm pottering about living. I want to put bits of that notebook online so I can order these ideas; I can tag posts and check for associations between thoughts. I can also link to other sites and other little mental 'journeys'.


Speakin' of habits, I was thinking about the meaning of practice. 
As a kid, practice meant something done routinely I guess - but it also meant something that wasn't 'for real' - oh I'm just having a 'practice run'. To me, it also became synonymous with terribly boring things; after all, if a thing is no fun, it can only be made less fun by doing it over and over again!


And then there's this word:

Praxis:

1. Practical application or exercise of a branch of learning.

2. Habitual or established practice; custom.

Say, what's that? It's implying a practice that's mentally focused, in a way - take some philosophy, do something with it - but it also seems more, ahem, practical than a lot of the so-called 'practice' one does as a kid. Making noise on a violin, doing the same math problem 20 times or catching curve-balls is such rote learning that it doesn't seem connected to anything. Nor is it even very brain-straining - I mean you could argue that doing an algebra problem is working your mind out, but if so, it's more like doing 20 reps with a dumb-bell than running over an obstacle course. It's not very engaging. And there's no meta-thinking.
Then there's the bit I hate, because I hate anything that implies a commitment; the practice that occurs so regularly, so often, that it becomes customary. Oh dang, it's become a part of your life now! Scary as that is, I want to have a solid go at establishing patterns of practice - all over the show - in order to help order my brain and be a better thinker - but also to save time and effort and generally worry a lot less. So there's the guts of my motivation for this weird little blog. Hopefully doing it over and over - whatever it may become - won't become boring but just the opposite.