art gallery dreaming

Since I last blogged, after Dungog, I've been wandering up and down the eastern seaboard, seeking adventure, clarity and creative inspiration. There's plenty to be written about the first two aims, but right now I'm just going to write about the third, and a beautiful exhibit that I saw yesterday in Melbourne, at the NGV Australia.

So Rupert Bunny was a Melbourne-born painter, who spent about thirty years in France, and basically moved between the two countries for his whole life (1864-1947). His style, therefore, sits somewhere in between the two, gently inspired by the ebb and flow of historical context. There's a pretty broad range of styles going across his work, and towards the end it starts to be much more stylised, allegorical and in-your-face.

Admittedly, I was most attracted to the pre-war stuff; when he was evidently creating from a place of contentment, producing beautiful pieces that echoed French impressionism (and therefore many of my other favourite painters). Yet there's something very unique to his work too: it's dreamy, moody and elements of magic realism pop up all over the shop (mermaids, fawns, etc.). See:






He's evidently obsessed with women and femininity - and while there are all sorts of arguments you could make about exotisising the other I prefer to think that he idealises the gender out a place of respect. Pow. I especially love his use of soft colours, that dreamlike quality, and that hint of mystery that he captures in the women's facial expressions.

Here's a quote that accompanied the exhibit, and that I very much appreciated:

"What a period of dreaming!" my mother said. Looking back on in wonder at the unreal psychic state of the feminine world of her youth, she attributed this phenomena to the repressive ideas of the era. "We were the last Romantics," she said. "Novels and embroidery were the drugs of the period, stimulating and tranquillising according to emotional state. Dreaming was our only freedom and way of escape from boredom, and through dreams we managed to create a beautiful, enchanted world."
- Collette Reddin, 1987

Once again, is this a case of idealising repression? Perhaps, but goodness, if you'd seen how beautiful these paintings were you'd probably be OK with that.

MORE SOON OK!
xxx magda

dungog highlight #3

HIGHLIGHT #3. Push Bike + other short films

I watched a buttload of short films over the course of this weekend. Some where hilarious, others humbling, some pretty shit (film festival choices so often baffle me!) and a few I will struggle to forget.

Some highlights:
- Vinyl: the story of an African family struggling to fit into Australia. Very little dialogue, no simple charectisation, no flashbacks, no need to explain everything about their tortured background. A story told through images.
- The Wake: a short slice of life piece that didn’t bother with three act structure. It just let us in for a minute, crafted some strong characters and told a bigger story through some snapshot insights.
- Monkey Bar Mafia: a crime film set in a primary school, where the top Mafioso is a greasy haired year seven, the police are the highly organised network of teachers, and the big heist is a quest to retrieve a confiscated footy card from the principal’s office. It’s fun, fast paced, colourful and completely unrealistic whilst still being quite genuinely suspenseful.
- Push Bike: this was my favourite. Like Vinyl, it’s almost all non-dialogue; a story told through images, glances and thrilling performances. It’s dark little film that follows a lonely mother in her late thirties, as over one evening of unfortunate events, she moves through despondence, humiliation and real terror before discovering an unexpectedly gentle, and deeply sensual, connection from a point of absolute fear. I could not tear my eyes away from the at once disturbing and touching story.

Summary: filmmaking is endlessly versatile. Also, I’m kinda now in the mood to make a darker film. Not something about terminal illness or suburban poverty, but something that just moves into darker thematic territory. As the ever wise Freya said to me, as we sat around waiting for Stuffed to screen: “maybe it’s something you have to do, both to help you learn about filmmaking and to help you learn about the darker part of yourself.”

OOOOOH, hella insightful.

Much lovin
xxxx magda

dungog highlight #2

HIGHLIGHT #2. Gillian Armstrong

She’s something of a legend in Australian cinema, and also an inspiration for female filmmakers – having used cinema to make strong feminist statements (My Brilliant Career), tell beautiful female stories (Little Women) and also to just have non gender specific fun (Starstruck). On Saturday afternoon she delivered a panel discussion about filmmaking and her background and her adventures. Here is what I want to remember:

“Don’t ever be intimidated by anyone. If they intimidate you, take them out for a beer or few. Almost everyone in the filmmaking world is mostly alright.”
“You should know whether you love or hate a script after having read ten pages. This test never fails. Also: if you know how it’ll end after ten pages, you should probably throw it away.”
“As a director, you don’t have to worry about technical details: just be a strong communicator with a clear idea. You don’t have to be the one standing there with a light metre, you just have to know exactly how you want that light to hit the person.”
“Story is absolutely the key. Just let story make all the creative decisions for you.”
"Surround yourself in inspiration. Watch films. Also: go to galleries, listen to music, look at photos, see plays, watch dancers, read novels and read magazines. This is the only way to grow as a filmmaker, artist and person."


UM pretty sure there are a hell of a lot more, but I will just edit them in as I remember.
"Someone should have taken a notebook" - Magda Wozniak, 2010

LOVE LOVE LOVE
xxx Magda

dungog highlight #1

Last week I flew all across Australia with four other lovely ladies from the WA Screen Academy to attend the DUNGOG FILM FESTIVAL - a weekend of screenings and parties in a tiny rural NSW town of 3000 people and a lot more cattle. One of my short films was selected for the Sunday "whimsical" screening session (what makes a film whimsical? how do you measure levels of whimsy? don't ask me), so that was kinda my excuse for being there, but actually the weekend was amazing for so many other reasons. Here are some highlights, presented across three separate posts for your reading convenience.



DUNGOG HIGHLIGHT #1: Lou

I went into this film wanting to adore it. I was already enamoured with all the promotional images, plus it premiered on the festival's opening night - so we were all dressed up, excited and giddy from having just walked across a 2m long red carpet. Truly though, I reckon this one could have screened in a cattle shed, all of us sitting on dirty hay stacks, and I would have loved it equally.

It's about a 11-year-old girl called Louise, who sits on the brink of early adulthood, starting to understand everything that's recently gone wrong for her family. Naturally, she blames her tortured soul of a mother (Emily Barclay - another beautiful woman) for her father's recent departure and for all their consequential financial predicaments. So, when her estranged and befuddled grandfather Doyle (John Hurt) shows up and it's up to Lou to look after him, she sees it as just another case of her mother eschewing responsibility. Of course, though, this is actually Lou's big chance to learn a thing or two about empathy and humility; in short, to grow up.

This isn't a simple relationship, though. Everything that occurs between the two is complicated by the fact that Doyle has Alzeihmer's and he's convinced that Lou is actually the love of his life. So, what you get is a slowly unfolding relationship that is actually almost as uncomfortable as it is beautiful. The film throws out a whole lot of questions about love and growing up and family and beauty - and then it makes you cry because you realise that finding answers ultimately isn't all that important. It's a complex story, bolstered by amazing performances from Hurt, Barclay and of course little Lou who plays angelic pain to perfection. Plus, its soundtrack is lovely, the sparse country vistas capture the mood ideally, and the whole visual style is something I want to steal - soft, gentle lighting, bright pastelly colours, plenty of rainbow lens flares and gorgeous orange skies.

This is very much akin to the kind of film I'd like to make. It's funny in all the right moments, has a really strong visual style, and also a deeply human story. I may have drunkenly told the lovely director Belinda Czajko all of this at one of the parties. Oops?

xxxx Magda

out of her league

Sometimes, when I'm writing something new, I like to jump the gun a bit and consider the soundtrack. In the past I have even gone so crazy as to compile a few "dream soundtrack" playlists. These, of course, are then played on loop for further inspiration/motivation.

In this particular instance, I have selected three potential theme songs/title tracks, as follows:

Note how I become increasingly ambitious with my selections. Still, I'm pretty sure we can get all these artists on board if we try hard enough. I HOPE YOU ARE READING THIS PRODUCER ALEX GILES.

Goodness, now that it has popped into my head, I rather love the image of ole Brucey gettin pumped to go pro bono for some amateur filmmakers from Perth. He'd be keen as I reckon. He's just that kind of guy.

LOVE
xxx Maggie Mae

pleasantly surprised

Gosh I love it when commercial TV does OK. This time, I'm delighted to announce that the pilot of Modern Families narrowly avoided the offensiveness hinted at in its trailers (thanks Channel 10, your inability to pick appropriate highlights astounds me yet again).

The first episode was exactly how I like my TV: wacky but tight (incidentally, this is also how I like men, RAWR). It spanned the whole gamut of lolz, from the most outrageously amusing (The Lion King tribute springs to mind) to the more subtly hilarious (mistaking 'Phil' for 'feel'). And, despite leaning on those tired-but-true mockumentary stylings, I think there's enough original thinking here to help this one get by. For starters, it isn't set a work place. Points for that.

I think also it helps that I'm addicted to stories about dysfunctional but well-meaning families. Though I guess the good news is that if this show does OK there might still be hope for "Woz Woz World" after all.

xxx

defrosting

After an intense bout of seemingly endless bout of writer's block, the words are finally flowing. If they continue to flow like this, then the amazing Alex Giles and I will be embarking upon a potentially very exciting creative journey. More details soon.

Current inspirations in picture form:

The amazing "Pumpkin Soup" video, plus: kids' TV production design, portable houses, helium balloons, colour, colour, colour, bright lighting, rose coloured glasses, fringes, big buttons.

Sweet treats, hundreds and thousands, colourful cones, fairy floss, sherbet, neopolitan stripes, melted chocolate, serviettes in block primary colours, candy hearts.

Perth beaches, bright blue skies, vintage swimsuits, parasols with polka dots and stripes and zig zags, perfectly white sand, limestone walls, pink sea shells.


And I already fear that I have said too much.
xx

two lovely ladies

Back when I used to work every Monday night, I used to envy all those cinephiles heading off to the Luna Monday Doubles. Now, in my post-university life, as time magically unfolds before me and commitments become a thing of the past, I have no reason not to indulge with great vigour and frequency, as I indeed have been. And the cinematic surprises have been flowing thick and fast, as proven by last night's duo: "in which two hopeless men fall for two of Magda's favourite silver screen girls."


The first was Crazy Heart: a little romantic drama in which everybody's favourite dude Jeff Bridges plays an embittered, alcoholic, past-his-peak rockstar called Bad. He's just plodding down the well-worn path of the classic washed-out musician, performing in bowling alleys, hooking up with any wrinkled lady who looks at him sideways, and bemoaning the lack of a bar tab, when along comes wannabe journalist and single mum, Jean (hello, Maggie, swoon). Of course, she's his One Last Shot; his chance to get all the shit together, drop the booze and write some more inspiring music. For her, however, Bad represents everything that's best avoided, and it's clear that their relationship will only last as long as her loneliness wins out over common sense.

The story that ensues is, yes, somewhat bland. This is the traditional push-and-pull of a doomed union, intercut with long long long character-driven scenes where not all that much happens. That's OK though, because the strength of the film actually lies with its two beautiful performers. Bridges is a force as this mumbling failure who somehow is never able to do up his belt buckle, and Gyllenhaal just sparkles as a sad woman uplifted by the promise of romance. Sure, it's a coupling that on first glance might make you vomit a little in your mouth, but you'll soon be swallowing that bile back because these two actually build a surprisingly sexy chemistry. All their shared glances and 'secret lover' smiles make you feel like you're witnessing something truly special take place. It was so lovely to watch, it almost recalled another sparkle/mumble couple; Heath Ledger and Maggie's own bro Jake G in Brokeback Mountain.

Boner Rating: pretty hot
Bonus Points for: Colin Farrell with a pony tail, lol.


Next up was 500 Days of Summer. Here we have another relationship that is doomed from the offset (if you miss that, the baritone narrator will remind you). Tom (played by Magda's Yr 7 Crush Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is a slightly uncool, greeting card creator with big romantic ideas, but Summer (swoon), despite her perfect hair and Disney princess eyes, has a more distant, coldly rational outlook when it comes to heart matters, and never really wants anything "too serious." In a most beautifully postmodern fashion we then skip to and fro through the 500 days they spend together (and apart), until these insightful little fragments gradually form a whole picture of their relationship's rise and downfall. So, does this feel like the scriptwriter's attempt to exorcise past heart break? Yes. Is that a problem? Nope - quite the opposite.

OK - yes, at first the film's cuttingly truthful approach to relationships can be a bit daunting, especially if you start with the trailer, aka "a collection of painfully familiar break up moments guaranteed to make you weep." I'll be the first to admit that it was really only the prospect of watching Zooey-in-cute-dresses that inspired me to take the plunge. Rationally, though, it's also true that the film's greatest strength lies in its relatability, which comes from the script, and also the two simple but well-executed performances. So, whether Tom is drawing a skyline on Summer's arm in biro, whether the two of them are playing house in IKEA, or whether they're arguing over their favourite Beatle , we consistently get that deep, stomachy "I've been there" feeling - and this emotional weight is exactly what makes the film so ultimately moving. And, in the end, while it is at times harrowing (and at times, a little exaggerated! don't shoot me for saying it!), it also does a great job of celebrating the way people influence and shape one another, even if they don't stick around forever. Ultimately, it's as uplifting as it is depressing, which is a truly beautiful thing - and really as much as any scriptwriter could hope for.

(Also: Zooey's hair is amazing and now I am considering a fringe.)

Boner Rating: fire hazard hot
Bonus Points for: vintage fabric, the production design in Summer's apartment and the animated blue bird.

styles 4 u

Recently, I've been loving getting dressed up. And I don't mean in an "I'm going to the opera, please pass the powder" kind of way, but more like just being fun and throwing CAUTION TO THE WIND.

Here are some items that i have recently utilised, for the first time everrrr:
- lipstick (deep red)
- high-waisted skirts (who cares about accentuated stomachs?)
- high heeled shoes (kinda fun being tall)
- glitter nail polish (feat. confetti pieces)
- really big rings (somehow infinitely nicer than small rings?)
- short skirts (introducing: my legs)

To a certain extent, I blame SIA. Not only have I been loving her music like crazy crazy, but I have been loving her "back to childhood"/"i will wear whatever the hell i want to" aesthetic. If this year has taught me anything, it's that I'm a little obsessed with regression, and basically I am probably going to continue dragging out those old, dusty childhood obsessions for as long as society will allow, or maybe even longer.









Not that I've been that crazy really, or that this obsession has really been that much of a jump for me (my sister has been criticising my " disgusting tacky cheap style" for yearrrrs now), but recently I've been appreciating it quite extremely.

I have to start making my showreel, website etc this week, and this is the aesthetic I will be using to market myself. I want to be all about the fun, colour and confetti. If you're interested in making this website for me, plz get in touch

much love, magda

PS also planning to pierce my ears this week, wish me luck!! i will admit that i am kinda scared about the experience. i feel like i'm twelve years old again, like my parents will get angry when they see it, and i'm loving it.

summing up the last two weeks

ode to laundromat (dot com)

My parents returned from their South American adventure the other week, after eight weeks away. During this time, my sister and I enjoyed beautiful independence and peaceful co-habituation, as well as the unfortunately aligned breakage of several household objects. Namely, we somehow managed to break: the back sliding door, the vacuum cleaner, the egg poacher, and, most significantly, the washing machine. (We maintain that these breakages were the result of standard wear-and-tear and not any irresponsibility on our part).

As a result of these various events, I was lead into the magical world of THE LAUNDROMAT. Initially nervous, I approached Osbourne Park's esteemed establishment, "TheLaundromat.Com.Au," with a fair degree of caution. I was distrustful of the unfamiliar machinery, the dusty floors and the humongous, unfriendly-looking driers. I didn't know what to bring, so I came in with every kind of washing powder, a really large bag of spare coins and about five different novels. I greeted other patrons with the wary, defensive nods of one who is feeling very unsure/insecure.

As is so oft the case though, it took only two visits for me to get "crazy in lurve" with this wacky little world. In ridiculously cliched moments, I made friends with the Italian ironing lady who worked out the back, and with the young couple who came in every Monday afternoon at 4:30. When I eventually figured out how to access the wireless internet, I claimed the little corner bench as my own temporal study, and got used to setting up there with books and laptop. Great levels of productivity were reached here, where the spin of the machines lulled me into a strangely heightened focus.

My highlight was offering "sage" advice to another newcomer. My lowlight was a visit to the much more expensive, slightly stinky and much less innovatively named "Laundromat" of South Perth; an incident which only increased my appreciation of my "local" laundrette (and I guess also of Tom, who stayed by me throughout the horrible ordeal).

Woo so now that we have a new, shiny, clean washing machine with all the mod-cons and great spin power, and yet I kind of miss that world. For a little while, doing the laundry was an exciting, romantic afternoon activity - but now it has gone back to being a mundane chore. Who knew? Not I.

Perhaps when I move out, I just won't buy a washing machine. "A good decision"?

xx magda

musique

On Sunday I decided to vote that Triple J Hottest 100 thingo. I'm not actually sure if my votes were counted, because I accidentally pressed "refresh" during the confirmation process, classic me - but you all know what they say. "Votes: basically not important."*

Anyway, here are my selection, not necessarily in order of preference:

TOP TEN:

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - The Ship Song
Basically, this song leaves me feeling overwhelmed with the memory of every emotion I have ever felt, and indeed by the sheer infinite possibility of every emotion I hope I am yet to feel. "Deep as, moite."

The Flaming Lips - Do you Realise?
Who hasn't shed a tear whilst driving down the freeway and singing along to this tune? NOT ME, LITTLE ONES. Take that double negative and figure it out.

Little Birdy - Relapse
I know this may be silly, but to me this song will always be perfect. It was the first song to ever make me cry, and the first that made me feel as if it were being sung just for me (a very special feeling, you will surely agree). I can remember listening to it on repeat in my bedroom as a naive 16 year-old, and all the wacky thoughts that accompanied that experience (life, love, friendship, the future, one boy in particular, two friends in particular). I'm not so into the uber-produced version that ended up on LB's album, but the the one on their first EP gives me goosebumps to this very day.

Arcade Fire - Neighborhood #1 (tunnels)
If 'Do You Realise' moistens those eyes, this one switches just sends them nuts. I distinctly remember the first time I heard it - listening to an mp3 CD made by David for Luke and stolen by me. And I can remember thinking: "Holy shit, this is probably better than Little Birdy" (a BIG deal, in many ways a personal "music landmark").

Talking Heads - Once In A Lifetime
There's not really a deep emotional connection at play here; basically this song is just killer tune meets wacky sentiment meets touching personal connotations (good times of d-floors, and in front of my bedroom mirror with deodorant can in hand in lieu of microphone and/or hair brush).

Sufjan Stevens - Chicago
Essentially the same effect as numero 2. It's a song that makes me feel acutely aware of being in motion, of the constant rush of life, if you will. AND I DID.

Kate Bush - Hounds of Love
What can I say? It's good for driving, great for jogging and a dream for dancing. It's a song that makes me feel all "female goddess, YOW", and gosh I am a such a sucker for the line: "Take my shoes off and THROWWWW THEM IN THE LAKE." If only you would.

Sigur Ros - Hoppipolla
On the radio the other day, I heard someone talking about SR and suggesting that they prove how the best pieces of art are the ones that demand your imagination, and I could not agree more. I love how when I listen to this song I don't even notice that I can't understand the lyrics, because I've basically made up its meaning entirely in my head, and filled in the gaps myself. I love how it can make me feel so much through SOUND alone.

Bruce Springsteen - Born To Run
My love for Bruce was inspired only quite recently, by Ben, but I won't hold that against either of them. The love that has since developed is pure and beautiful, and this song has me in its grasp from start to finale. My favourite bit is probably at around 3 mins, when the song seems to be finishing, and then it just kicks back in with "THE HIGHWAYS JAMMED WITH BROKEN HEARTS" and you think "oh thank god for that because I wasn't ready for this to be over yet."

The Finn Brothers - Won't Give In
I know this is a bit of a wacky inclusion, and that many would dub this song "bland as heck." Somehow, though, I find it profoundly beautiful and deeply life-affirming. I love the sentiment, I love the notion of "people I call my own" and I love the bit that calls "turn around" (no bright eyes though). That's my opinion and I'm sticking it.

RUNNERS UP:
Beach Boys - God Only Knows
The Beatles - Here comes the Sun
Jesus and Mary Chain - Just Like Honey (srsly so close to being in there)
Joy Division - Atmosphere
Magnetic Fields - Strange Powers
Panics, The - Brilliant Career
Swell Season, The - Falling Slowly
Lucinda Williams - Essence (thnx caro)

Did you vote?! I would be hell of keen to know yr choices!

xx magda


*jpyl* i think votes are pretty important, just bein' bitter.
*just pulling yr leg

feeling miserable, but loving it

This arvo I had to do a little presentation for my Scriptwriting for TV unit - and chose to focus on one of my favourite TV shows of all time, Love My Way. That means that I spent basically the whole weekend re-watching old episodes and over-dosing on a hell of a lot of emotion. I don't want to be no spoiler queen (as I have been in the past), but something pretty awful happens in episode 8 of this series, and basically my poor heart breaks a little every time I watch it. WORST. But also: BEST, as I shall proceed to explain.

For the presentation's sake, I had to really figure out what makes this series so unique, and why I am so strongly drawn to it. I have concluded that, unlike any other Australian drama, this is a series takes risks. By which I do not only mean sex/drugs/artistic type risks, but also, more pertitently, emotional risks. It's a show based essentially around a deep family sadness, and around heavy, heavy, heavy themes. And I can see how that is perhaps not such an appealing premise, on a face value.

A lot of its strength lies in its characters, I suppose. Personally, I feel as if I know all these people, as if they were actually a part of my life, or my family, - and this is precisely why the series succeeds in exploring themes of death, grieving and loss in a much more intimate and genuinely affecting way than any other TV show I've seen (and that includes Six Feet - as Sasha pointed out). But, beyond that, the show succeeds because it is absolutely fearless. It is unafraid to take us deep into personal, internal experiences - and to admit when there is absolutely no glimmer of happiness. So, when hope does (eventually) spring, it is all the more moving and profound.

None of that would have worked if the show had been half-arsed about its darkness. It had to jump all the way into that sadness in order to emerge from it with something truly meaningful. And I am happy to say that that is exactly what it did. In the end, all I can do is apply those learned words: "emotionally debilitating, yet deeply life affirming" - because for once they are actually appropriate.

What a show. It comes highly recommended.

xxx magda

this is the time, that i'll come running....

So I am basically still obsessing over "Tuesday Night with Nick Cave," and thought maybe I should write a little about it. As a gig, it is totally up there with my all-time favourites (FYI, the list so far includes: The Flaming Lips at BDO '04, Arcade Fire at the Enmore in Melbourne last yr and '06 PJ Harvey also in the lovely Belvoir!). NC was something truly special, though - never before have I seen an artist so completely command audience attention. He draws you in with charisma and banter and mature sexiness (a popular example: "are you touching my cock? ... jesus christ, i'm 51 years old!") and then he holds your attention through the sheer intensity of his performance. Personally, I felt as if every single song was being directed straight at me; there's a focus and a force there that is truly remarkable. I almost felt sorry for all the Bad Seeds behind him, they were completely overshadowed by his power as a frontman.

Caro has already detailed some of the advantages of performers "on the older side," but, additionally, something I personally love about this factor is just the wealth of repertoire that an older artist has at his disposal - particularly in the case of someone as diverse as NC. I'm so used to seeing "new" artists with only 1 or 2 or maybe, if you're lucky, up to 4 (!) albums, so the level of surprise is greatly decreased. With NC, though, every new song is something special, unpredictable or surprising - what a thrill! My personal highlight was when "Into My Arms" gave way to "Straight to You." "IMA" naturally weakened my emotion resolve (just imagine if he'd played the freaking SHIP SONG!), so, by the time that "STY" kicked in, basically all I could do was just fall, completely, into the joy of that song. All of it was amazing, though. The photo above is one of only 3 that I took, because I was far too absorbed in the performance to bother which such silly distractions. I wanted to watch it alllll.

To make matters even greater, the evening wrapped up beautifully! The bouncer was delightfully chipper ("cheers for coming, cheers for enjoying!"), and then we hung out in the floodlit oval carpark, playing makeshift cricket (with coke bottle bat) while we waited for the cars to clear. And, when I got home, I snuggled up on my bean bag to watch Barack Obama become the American President. Pretty much the best night ever.

x magda

how good is this?!

picture courtesy of b-dog and i guess also saul loeb who actually took the photo

back on land

So this blog has been a little quiet recently and, as is often the case, my excuse can be presented in three parts: 1) a little blog-related insecurity, which i shall now proceed to push through with a vengeance, 2) a hell of a lot of worky work AND 3) a magical two weeks spent "on the road."



My last five years have all commenced like this, with a journey down south in search of adventure and fun times. Every year about 15 of us squeeze into cars and then into tents and then into bedrooms and we spend almost two weeks basking in one another's company. Inevitably, there are parties (spontaneous AND planned), creative projects (failed AND successful) and beautiful new discoveries (is that actually SASHAAA out there?!). And then at the end I come home feeling refreshed and inspired and happy, ready (if reluctant) to take on the rest of the year.

Here are my TOP FIVE favourite buss09 moments. I would like to be reminded of these if life gets a little hard this year:

1. That morning when Caroline led me over stinger armies and dark seaweeded depths until we reached a mysterious floating trampoline and climbing wall with slide! Lying on my back next to Hannah as Damien bounced beside us, I was struck by surrealness of it all; to be lolling/lol-ing on a trampoline with friends, about fifteen minutes away from the freaking shore.

2. When, feeling tired and hazy one morning, I opened up the refridgerator in search of sustenance, only to find a cold, plastic snake lodged between some cheese and a bowl of leftover pasta.

3. Blasting "Affirmation" at top volume as we rolled down Bussell Hwy, singing along with Jenny, Ro & Caro, and thinking, "I wonder what they're doing in the boy car right now?"

4. Lying on the floor beside my bed after the mess that was the "Under the Sexy Sea" party, with Moriarty (or maybe Sasha?) next to me, and about six other lovable characters in around and on the bed itself, thinking, "Yessss, I may almost be unconscious but at least I am still in amongst PARTY."

5. Arriving back at SouthBound after a quick trip to the beach, and bouncing straight into Architecture in Helsinki, still in bathers and thongs . I cannot even remember what songs AIH played or whether they were actually any good, all I remember is jumping up and down in a spot of space right near the back, and really truly loving life/youth.

x magda

PS i have changed my layout a little! do you like it, or do you hate it?!
damn, html is a bitch!

wild 4 woody

Free from the constraints of early tuesday mornings (ah holidays, i love you!) i have finally been able to attend a Luna Movie Double in its entirety - and what a way to live the dream too, with a beautiful Woody Allen double, a delicious peppermint choc-top and some good people including caroline, mark & ro. Before I dive into snoozeville, I wanted to jot down my reactions to these films - & I’m not talking polished, retrospective criticism, but just my instantaneous emotional response.

Annie Hall was up first, and, yes, I loved it. I found the story rich, relatable, and memorable, and the central relationship compelling in its genuine chemistry. As I drove home I replayed some favoured moments in my mind and found myself smiling, remembering Anne’s awkwardly misplaced laughter, that silly juxtaposition between their two families (Alvy’s family, like mine, is zany and obnoxious), and that bit where Alvy describes relationships as sharks (they must constantly "move forward, or die"). Still, even though I laughed a lot during this film, I wouldn’t describe it as a major lol-fest; rather, it’s a case of finding the humour touching (or ‘eerie’ even) in its accuracy. In the end, I’d describe the film as joyous, as a loving tribute to a complicated relationship. I’m excited about watching it again.

Conversely, Manhattan troubled me. Yes I found it interesting, but I had some major issues with the female characters. To me they seemed to devolve into vacuous passivity, becoming mere facilitators or ciphers (I guess mainly I am talking about the Tracy character here). I felt as if Woody too had lost a bit of his charm (though maybe that’s the effect of the double bill?) becoming at best a little annoying, and at worst a little misogynistic. Knowing about his personal life also made the relationship with Tracy a little problematic. I’ve heard so many great things about the film, though, I’ve heard it described a romantic triumph (plus Mark's a fan, and I'm a fan of Mark?), and so I wonder if this is classic me, "destroying love with over-analysis." This was Koko’s argument anyway, when I came home and tried to share the view with her, but of course she would say that (because she's a butt). Also, I think Annie Hall would obviously be more of an 'instant pleaser': so perhaps Manhatten is the fine wine of the film world?! ANYWAY, I’d love to hear other people’s opinions on this one.

IN OTHER NEWS:
My wonderful friend Liz has an amazing blog worth checking out! It is over-flowing with inspirational creativity – watch out for the “daydream project” in particular, through which she transforms some mental wanderings into something very beautiful. Yay for Liz! Gosh, I know some pretty amazing people, it is true!

x magda

the corrections

so today i finally finished reading jonathan franzen's the corrections. i started reading it ages ago for an english unit, then got distracted and only picked it up again recently. this time, however, i was well 'suckered' into the story and encountered that classic sitch of "oh god i hope this novel NEVER ENDS!" luckily, at 600 pages, a relatively long period of time was able to pass before i reached the novel's finale.

i am SO happy with the book's conclusion! it is so appropriately understated; assuredly anti-climactic without being disappointing. in a sense the whole novel is like that, i guess. every chapter, every paragraph even, seems to draw frenetically upwards towards some grand culmination that never eventuates. in the end, that sense of 'build-up' is actually marked as some sort of never-ending buzz of everyday life - and you come to enjoy its continuation, rather than anticipate its conclusion.

i really wanted to find a quote to illustrate that sensation, but i can't find an appropriate one, because this book is more than the sum of its parts and all that. its effect hits you cumilatively as you push through, and is impossible to gauge through a detached passage. still, much of the narrative seems to be grinding slowly towards to christmas; christmas time facilitating that rough "tying of loose ends" that i guess could be described as the book's 'finale.' i thought i might include a quote about christmas in suburbia, just because it's "topical", and also because i have a personal love for suburbs transformed by festivity. this is from the perspective of enid, the midwestern mother who finds happiness in notions of home, family and simple pleasures - i.e. all the notions that her children have come to resist or resent.

"By night the park was Christmasland. Enid drew breath sharply as the Olds crept up a hill of light and across a landscape made luminous. Just as the beasts were said to speak on Christmas Eve, so the natural order of the suburbs seemed overturned here, the ordinarily dark land alive with light, the ordinarily lively road dark with crawling traffic. The mild gradients of Waindell's slopes and the intimacy of its ridgelines' relations with the sky were midwestern. So, it seemed to Enid, were the hush and patience of the drivers; so were the isolated close-knit frontier communities of oaks and maples. She'd spent the last eight Christmases exiled in the alien East, and now, at last, she felt at home. She imagined being buried in this landscape. She was happy to think of her bones resting on a hillside such as this... The spectacle was nothing more than lights in the darkness, but Enid was speechless. So often credulity was asked of you, so seldom was she able to summon it absolutely, but here at Waindell Park she could. Somebody had set out to delight all comers, and Enid was delighted."


x magda

introducing...

hello beautiful world!

recently my lovely friend caroline "buttface" dale kick-started a shiny new blog, and what can i say? i'm a sheep in cat's clothing! truth be told: watching caroline slowly accumulate entries, i began to feel as if i also wanted some more internet turf to call my own, and so this zany site was born.

the idea here is that i am going to post about things that have INSPIRED me in some way. this is a broad category because i am talking about any kind of "thing" (book, garden, animal!) and any kind of "inspiration" (towards passion, anger or jealousy - but hopefully mostly towards LOVE!). essentially, i hope that this will serve as a sort of makeshift collection of "stuff" that i think is worth remembering. maybe occasionally i'll post some of my own work, but i'm pretty shy like that so maybe not.

i suppose that for starters i should discuss the blogs that have inspired me. nb: i don't read many blogs, even though i am a communication studies student and so i probably should. maybe there are some blogs you'd like to recommend?


natalija creates : i first met nat on the set of the sculptor, where i was working as a production runner earlier this year (making coffee, sweeping millipedes, feeling glamorous). even before we were formally introduced i was already regularly lurking around her blog (something that i initially denied & then later confessed to out of misguided drunken sincerity). the thing that i love most about nat is that she makes things happen. while the rest of us sit around dreaming of dream careers, she's off teaching photography in minngenew and making dolls in south africa, and documenting all that in her blog. reading about her adventures makes them feel more tangible to me, more attainable and therefore all the more worth dreaming about! i also love observing the way in which she seems to inject creativity into her everyday activities, transforming it into a sort of "way of life" if you will. what's more, her pictures are pretttty!

rode out as a lion : for starters, i love this blog because i love caroline, that's a pretty simple factor. what i find most inspiring about this blog, though, is how it documents caroline's concentrated attempt to transform sporadic creativity into routine. i think that anyone who thinks that creativity can be sustained without discipline is naive. sure, inspiration can strike at any time, but for this to grow or evolve into anything greater conscious effort is required. also, reading about others' creative endeavours inspires you to pursue your own (creativity via virtual osmosis!). that applies to nat's blog also.


ok phew, some beautiful words from me today.
"that'll do, pig, that'll do"

x magda