Posts Tagged ‘art’

Kodak moment (or the one where I get annoyed at cheerful street art)

November 16, 2010

This is what I see when I go for a meandering plod run along the water. There is seriously one of these every 10 metres along the walking track. It cracks me up most of the time. If I’m not having a happy day however, it makes me want to punch the concrete smiley sun face.

Right in the smiley concrete sun mouth.

(This, combined with the soothing classical music they pump out of the bus stop speakers makes me think someone involved in our City Council is doing a psych experiment…)

 

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Mid-block blues.

May 24, 2009

 

Le costumier's rad orange dancing shoes

Le costumier's rad orange dancing shoes

 

 

We are halfway through our Identity, Microbes & Defense block, which means I’ve got the mid-block blues. Lately, I’ve been feeling pangs of friend-sickness (as distinct from home-sickness). I really, really, really miss friends that are scattered all over the place. I miss conversations with my brothers. I miss passionate discussions about stupid ‘arty’ things. I miss discussing the nitty gritty of a film, whether a campaign has hit the mark, the cut of a garment, the angle of a photo or the exact shade of blue on a logo.

I do really love the people I’ve met at uni (they make the thought of living on the Gold Coast for four years less frighteningly depressing). But, sometimes I just miss the people that aren’t here. 

A close friend of mine is on the other side of the country following an internationally renowned dance troupe as their costumier. Last summer we were both home at our parents’ places + spent afternoons hanging out in her mother’s art studio, flipping through thick fashion bibles of black + white photos of Jean Shrimpton + Audrey Hepburn. Her mother’s paintings were stacked against the walls next to my friend’s fabric piled high on a dresser, an old singer sewing machine + antique pattern making tools. When she lived in Sydney + I was in Newcastle we used to drive the two hours to each others houses just to hang out, talk about how frigging great buttons are + talk about opening a button store. 

A friend from advertising called me the other day to chat while she was driving to a shoot, bemoaning the weather because they’d had to cancel a scene with paper lanterns. She was stressed, frantic + laughing with despair at how late she was, how she had all the camera equipment in her car. Despite her assertions that her boss really IS Miranda Priestly + how sick she if of working 15 hour days as a production assistant, our chat made me miss the crazy, lead up to getting a project finished. 

There is no crazy, energetic lead up to anything studying medicine. It is a slow, steady plod. It’s eating five pancakes a day, every day. It’s a treadmill of Clinical skills, PBL, lectures, PBL, lectures, community placement, I’ll-catch-up-with-that-tomorrow-oh-shit-it’s-Monday-again-how-could-it-possibly-be-Monday-again-I’m-not-ready-for-it-to-be-MONDAY-AGAIN! It’s de ja vu, every week. It’s a tiny black hole ripped into my diary that has slowly let time drip away (similar to a small gastrointestinal bleed that goes unnoticed until the patient is severely anaemic). 

People say medicine is as much an art as it is a science…

but all I still see is science.

A slow, plodding science. 

Ugh.