Flour Power Action Opening...

Here is the mayor. He was quite impressed. Pleasant guy. Great hair.
Unlit sculpture. Very Steeeeley.

This phot is so amazing i wet myself everytime i look at it. I look about 3 years old. So I really wanted a photo next to the sculpture but felt stupid doing the 'hold-the-camera-myself-and-be-out-of-focus'. Whose that other girl? That dude was just hanging around.

Hi Marnie! Regan is a chopper of a guy. Wow he's so nice! He passes on good words about you. Here are photos of the opening fresh from the press. Note the mayor and his token speech...didn't mention his wife this time round. Lady Stuart: "You're very young, how old are you Regan?" "32" (The audience claps) "Very good can I give you a kiss?". "And once again you're a Kewl Dude!".

Umm, in an internet cafe right now. Waiting for photos to load. Shania Twain sets the mood. She's aparently not impressed that much (well, thats what *she* says).

Tomorrow is the Opening Of Scape 2008. Much anticipation. Looking forward to the whores di vorzz. And therefore tomorrow will be the Official Opening of Watch This Scape Dot Blogspot Dot Com!

Therefore we should all watch this scape.

Much Love ex oh ex

Pipe-Oddity Fetishism

Facing the deadline of Scape, 2008, and the task of documenting it in the most expository and interesting way possible, I started to think about temporality, the idea of a deadline and social habits. One of the contributors to this document once remarked on how endearingly organised humans are, setting apart "the weekend", and most likely seeking out other social beings in the evenings alloted to this period. It seems in a similar way, this Biennial provides the temporal umbrella, or arbitrary point of gravitation in time which allows something to appear, to be shared and experienced. Pierre Huyghe made an interesting statement at a conference given at the Biennale of Sydney this year, on his preference of the term "apparition" to "exhibition", which is particularly apt in describing his hijacking of the Sydney Opera House Concert Hall with A Forest of Lines; tropical pot plants, smoke machine smoke and Sci-Fi lighting, for a 24 hour period only. A little closer to home, I was very taken with the appearance of pipes --the approx. thickness of a sausage dog's torso--at University. At present, this shiny and/ or rusty intestinal infrastructure protrudes from unsuspecting fields, slinks along edificial peripheries and other designated space, and provides for points of intersection with channels of circulation. Where these occur accommodations have been made. For people, there are step-up-and-overs and ramps, and for automobiles concrete moulded coverings. The material discrepancy between the plywood and the concrete respectively, leads to a strange sense of spaciotemporal ambiguity; said concrete, albeit mesh with still-fresh paint and wet look tar is, as concrete does seem more permanent than connotations lent by the phrase "under construction". The wooden built-frames, on the other hand seem more accurately to fit the ticket of expectations of the pipes' return to subterraneity.