Showing posts with label performance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label performance. Show all posts

Thursday, 10 May 2012

Spot Painting

Damien Hirst does “Spot Paintings”
 This is one



If you want one of Hirst’s spot paintings, it could cost you anywhere up to 3.48 million pounds.
Alternatively, you could just go to CARD FACTORY and buy this wrapping paper

Sorry Hirst, who’s going to pay that much for a “Spot Painting” when these areavailable? Also, I’m pretty sure I can buy a dead cow’s head at any local butchers.







The Notepad

Monday, 23 April 2012

Free-loading SCUM

It costs £2.30 to ride a London Bus now if you don’t use an Oyster card. So why the fuck does this cheap piece of shit get to do whatever he fucking well wants?





Animals aren’t even allowed on the buses unless they’re guiding a blind person, and even then it’s not certain. This little prick doesn’t seem to be guiding any humans, so he does NOT belong.
But other people don’t care. Look at this woman, completely nonplussed that there’s a fucking free-loader right by her shoulder.

I mean, where the fuck is he going anyway? It’s not like he’s going home, he’s connected to it. He’s not visiting family is he? It was raining, so the likelihood is they’re all dead, under the shoes of business men and women, or decaying beside red elastic bands left by the postman, in puddles of bitter sorrow.
Actually, now that I think about it, that’s quite a horrible life really… This has put things into a different perspective for me. Perhaps he’s just trying to get away from it all. Aren’t we all entitled to that? If this snail has chosen to seek asylum via the 202 bus route from Crystal Palace towards Blackheath Standard, who am I to stop him? I would now even go so far as to say that he should be commemorated fOR his bravery, standing in the face of prejudice and working damned hard for his right to freedom.
I have now completely changed my mind on this poor, young, brave soul. If only more snails were like him. God bless him. I hope that when he gets to wherever it is he’s going to, he’ll be able to send for his family, before the cold boot of the postman obliterates them.
Actually I got off at the last stop, Blackheath, and the snail was still there. It had barely moved. As it was the last stop, the driver most likely would have seen him on his routine clean of the bus and would have probably just killed him with his fist.

Friday, 27 January 2012

My Mobile & Me

The video underneath these words is 11 minutes long. Sorry about that. It's a video that I put together as part of a piece of University coursework. The course is a writing course and it's called "Digital Self" and we were asked to do a story which involved the topics we were talking about in class, which happened to be technology. Because I am quite interested in doing some performance based stuff, instead of just doing a written story I decided to put this video together and then perform it live in front of the class. The whole class didn't turn up. But I did perform it to about 8 people, and they laughed at parts of it and clapped at the end so now I am technically (and possibly legally) a performance ARTIST. The only problem is, I don't have the actual footage of myself performing it. So what I've done is just re-record the audio that I spoke in the performance and pasted it under the finished video. Anyway, the video contains music that doesn't belong to me and also has lots of footage of complete strangers, so I don't imagine it will be online for every long. Watch it while you can. Or don't, because the beauty of the internet is that it's up to you. 

My Mobile & Me


It gets a bit overly sentimental at the end and I struggled to round it off as well as I would have liked, but there it is. Can't change it now. Well, I can but I can't be bothered to.

I am currently writing something completely different to this, which I plan to perform in places that will have me. It will be about my life so far, and there-for be very self centred. I'm also aiming for it to be about an hour and a half long. You know, like a film. 

Saturday, 14 January 2012

I'm a fucking artist

If you don't know anything about something, then you can buy a book and it will tell you things about the thing you don't know anything about and then you'll know a bit more about it.

This Book Exists 

I bought this book from "Halcyon Books" in Greenwich. It was £1. It is teaching me what art is. Apparently, it's got something to do with paint? I'm still trying to get to grips with the introduction, so I'll do another update when I've read more. 

Someone told me that photography was an art too. I don't believe them. 


See, here's a photo of a nappy in the women's toilets at Pizza Hut in Greenwich that I took and it's fucking rubbish. It isn't art at all. 

I know I want to do some kind of art, but finding the right kind is proving difficult. Maybe modern art?

"My Awful Life" - Jen Ives

Close enough

Monday, 2 January 2012

Broadbent

I am currently working on a performance art project thing. Here is a tiny piece of it.