the ’sham

This is one of those days where I really meander. It’s not that I don’t have an intention to do something specific, it’s just that my lack of forward planning means that it doesn’t work out the way I imagine. Instead, other things happen, the changing of the plan leaves me open to the time being filled with other adventures.

In this case, I wander up to the Metropolitan Community Church, and head off on a digression about the history of the Mastertouch Pianola Roll Factory, which had occupied the site for ages before the MCC took it on.

In this historical vein, Anthony from the Bottlo fills me in on a few snippets of local (New Canterbury Road) history.

Listen in to the podcast here [3mb, 7 min, mp3].

Read the original posting here.

Half an hour before the exhibition at Artspace opened, I managed to sit Reuben, the curator, down on a couch and we recorded Situationist Flan, the blog entry from a year and a few days ago. In this episode, Reuben came out to visit me in the ’sham, and we attempted to make up the recipe for the pudim flans which had been the source of much confusion on the blog. While we were waiting for the flans to set, we went out on our own flan, talking about situationism and the derive as we went.

In this recording, we’re joined by Tracy from Artspace, for some of the comment voices. At the end of the reading, Reuben and I chat about the nature of the project and its transition from the streets of the ’sham to the gallery in Woollomooloo.

Listen in here [10mb, mp3, 23min]
Read the original posting here

This one’s about bumping into Rohan on the street: the chance encounter that could never be planned for - that being its value. I like this idea a lot, I hope it comes across in this short narration.

Also, Tully brings up, in the comments section, the idea of “character assassination” which occurs any time you write about somebody. He raises the example of someone called Norah Vincent, who lived as a man for 18 months, going “undercover” and writing about her experiences:

When you write this intimately about real people, you are an assassin. [...] Almost invariably people object to something you’ve written about them. Either they say you got them wrong, or it didn’t happen that way, or that’s not how they remember it.

On Saturday I talked with Lisa about this issue: the way that experiences get transformed into narratives in the daily process of me writing the ’sham blog.

Here’s how it worked (I think). I would do stuff, go out, meet people, things would happen. Say I’m in the pub with half a dozen friends, some are ordering food, some go to the bar, others are playing pinball, two or three conversations are going simultaneously around our table. An interlacing network of “things happening”, of which, any one person can only partially participate. I go home and the next morning write up my experiences, prioritising those which for me are:

+the most interesting/noteworthy/amusing
+relevant to an existing discussion already flowing on the blog
+educational in some way (eg a “discovery”)
+good for a yarn

When I’m out, there’s an odd twinned experience going on: I’m in the moment - I have to be, because if I am not, I won’t be sufficiently present to be able to turn this experience into a story tomorrow. But I am also, thus, already in the tomorrow, already thinking about how to turn this into a story.

I think we all do this (to a certain extent) all the time. We own our own stories, which we carry around with us like cards in a card file, ready to pull out and apply to a particular relevant context as needed. And we warp our stories, we bend ‘em to make them have maximum impact, depending on the focus of the context.

This is always going to result in the Rashomon effect, no?

Listen in here [3mb, 7min, mp3].
Read the original posting here.

In which I take Wolfie the dog for a walk for the first time, visit the Crystal Street Community Shop, and whine about the landlords again.

In the opp-shop, there’s some DIY personality testing going on, as well as a reflection on chance and serendipity.

Download the episode here. [13 min, 12mb, mp3]

You can read the original blog post over here.

On Thursday, I was late opening the gallery, on account of accompanying Vanessa on the 1976 tour. I had put a notice on the door indicating that I wouldn’t be opening up til noon, but I arrived about ten past noon. Two ladies were standing around the doorway, waiting to come in. I apologised for being late. They said no worries, they had gone off for a coffee while they waited.

They came inside, and looked around, very interested, asked lots of questions, bought one of my folders with all the blog printouts. Then one of them said:

“So, where is Denise’s artwork?”

Denise? I didn’t know what they were talking about. I suggested that they might have got the wrong week – maybe Denise’s show doesn’t start til next week. In fact, I remember seeing that the Glebe and Inner Western Weekly had listed someone else’s show instead of mine. That probably accounts for the error. But they were confused. They had a flyer for Denise’s show in the car, they were sure the dates were right.

Anyway, they stuck around for a while, and we talked about the relative merits of different suburbs. Balmain particularly, and the transformations that have gone on there during the last twenty years. When they were ready to leave, I suggested they show me Denise’s flyer, so I could at least pass on the correct info in case any other punters came along to see her work. They went and fetched it. The flyer read “opening Wednesday May 25th, the exhibition to be launched by her excellency the governor, Marie Bashir.” This was odd, I’m sure we would have known if the Governor was around. Scanning further down, I read: “the exhibition will continue until June 3rd, 2005”.

These ladies were exactly a YEAR late to see Denise’s show.

One of them turned to me and asked: “so…If we came here a year ago…we wouldn’t have met you, then?”

I didn’t feel so bad about being a little late to open the gallery.

Instead of the Oxford Tavern, there’s an op-shop on the corner of Crystal and New Canterbury. Standing outside the shop is a cardboard removalist box. It’s full of rejected clothing, that even the op-shop itself doesn’t want. I pull up on my bike. Surely there’s something in here that can be salvaged. Standing casually, smoking a cigarette next to the box is the barber from The Locals Barber Shop. He laughs and says he’s been thinking the same thing about this box. We rummage through it together. It contains old crimplene dresses that are nearly interesting, but with patterns we just don’t quite like. At the bottom of the box is a eighties silk suit, brand new, still on the hanger. “What about this one?” he asks. I consider it. It has a peach and brown design, more brown than peach. It’s almost passable. He lifts it out so we can look more closely. On the back, the pattern changes from an angular abstract motif to a predominantly peach colour scheme, in fake Aboriginal dots and squiggles. We don’t need to say anything. Back it goes in the bottom of the box. Now we understand.

Hi Lucas
Bec mentined you are walking the Petersham border. I would love to join you sometime. Let me know when you plan the next walk. xxSue

Dear Sue
well, I’ve still got the northern border to go. Why don’t you come out sometime and we’ll walk it.
X L

Sue arrived five minutes early. I was just returning from WenChai publications (who are going to print my exhibition flyer) when she showed up on her bike. We drank tea, and I rolled a map out over all the dirty dishes. I don’t think Sue had realised that the northern border of Petersham is, in fact, just Parramatta Road. The boundary between Petersham and Leichhardt runs smack down the middle of Sydney’s great artery (or, as it has been described, varicose vein). I think she was a bit disappointed. Sure, on the surface, it doesn’t look as interesting as all those little variegations, twists and turns and inaccessible fenceline runs which characterise the other three borders. But looks can…well, you know the cliché…
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[A technical note about images: often within blog posts, I include links to images which are hosted at my Flickr site. If you're browsing with Mozilla Firefox, you might want to try this: right-click on the link and then "open link in a new tab". This way you can keep on reading while the image loads in the new tab.

If, on the other hand, you're still clinging belligerently to Internet Explorer, I'm fresh out of ideas.]
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A short email exchange with Barbara Campbell about serendipity and op-shops…

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One for the fans only: this post is going up on Saturday arvo, whereas it was really written on Friday. I also wrote for Barbara Campbell yesterday, which threw me out a little. Not that I had to do any extra work - I just edited down the second section of this entry to squeeze in under her 1001 word limit. Once I’d done this chopping, it felt like quite a different piece. I wasn’t sure whether it was better or worse. Nor do I really have any criteria for judging. I tried to make it a bit less wordy, so it would be easier to read out aloud (which is what Barbara does, each day, at sunset). But then I thought, hmm, maybe I should use the reduced version in my own blog, so I put off putting it up online to think about it. To cut a long story short, here’s what I’ve done: the original longer wordier version is below. If you want to compare and contrast, check out the brief version in Barbara’s archive.

OK, enough boring admin talk, on with yesterday’s post…

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