Too Busy

This neighborhood's for the artists,
So how come I don't see any art?
This neighborhood's for the smartest,
They wouldn't pay so much if they were so smart.
I'm so BUSY,
I'm so BUSY man,
At Art Land.

- Art Land, Jeffrey Lewis

Art Land

In a photographic tribute to Surry Hills (the Sydney suburb I, and most people I know, quite pathetically but very contentedly rarely venture from) my good friend, excellent popcorn maker and even better photographer Daniel - the same Daniel who took this series of shots of Bobby, Elle and I around this time last year - showcased a small portion of his work as part of an exhibition hosted by Time Out Sydney at the relatively new Urban Uprising on Crown Street. His photos are no longer on display (it was a one night only affair, unfortunately) but you can have a squizz at them on his website.

Included in the exhibition were photos of the late Hopetoun Hotel, burlesque performer Gypsy Wood and well, lots of other really good stuff. We wandered around the deservedly buzzing space, admired Daniel's skills (also pronounced skillz), drank a couple of beers, chomped on a veggie pie or two (which were curiously called vegie pies) and then, realising we were already running late, rapidly ran off to catch Jeffrey Lewis at Oxford Arts Factory where I had this totally epic conversation with Jeffrey himself (motioning to the comic books on the merch desk I was like, "Are these the only comic books you have left?" And he was all, "Yeah, sorry! We've sold out of all the others.") If you're currently furrowing your brow in confusion, check out his Myspace and perhaps you'll understand my excitement at meeting this particular balding young American man.

All photos courtesy of Daniel Boud (pictured above).

My black lace leotard, cropped denim jacket, faux-Glomesh bag, floral skirt and granny boots are all from various charity shops, markets and garage sales. Lace headband made from lace bought at C&H Fabrics in the U.K. and the stockings were originally from a department store if I remember correctly - the holes I inflicted on the poor things some time ago (inspired by Rodarte, of course).

Festival Song

Last Thursday I drifted my way in and out of a codeine-induced sleep throughout the four hour drive to Latitude Festival; the festival of choice, I soon discovered, for affluent, middle class and middle aged hippies and their kids. You might have noticed a lack of posts recently. Yes, I know that it was like, ten days of no posting, and the trip was only five days, but there was recovery time involved. Plus, almost a whole week of work immediately bit me on my hungover arse, which my body did not appreciate and subsequently rewarded me with aches and strains and a refusal to keep my eyelids open past midnight. I cannot deny, however, that the festival was utterly and completely worth it. Despite the unpredictable weather, Latitude easily topped the charts as the best festival of my life, hell, the best weekend of my life.

Above and above, the lovely, charming and, most importantly, very talented The Late Greats. And their severely under-age groupies.

Preparing for (above) and enjoying (below) David Ford's spectacular impromptu secret show by the woods.

"Bjork! Bjork! It's Bjork!" These strange piggies shouted as they outstretched their fingers and point their cameras at me.

Having one last practise before our performance of Gangsta's Paradise for The Late Greats' Indie Ghetto set (above). I say 'our' performance, but really, I was only one part of the five-piece (mostly talentless) chorus. A very important chorus, however.

See? We had the whole 'ghetto' thing down pat.

Jeffrey Lewis performed two sets over the weekend: One sans band (above) and one with band. Both were equally amazing. I think I might just be addicted to him.

The Tree of Lost Things.

Patrick Wolf. My, how I would kill for his costumes. He came out in a black and white, musical OWL outfit. Suffice to say, I almost fainted.

Bobs was asked to participate in a project for BBC (actually, I kind of volunteered him.) Listen to the end result here.

Many more photos here, if you're interested. And, on a side note, does anyone know how I can get my photos all big and lovely? I'm HTML incompetent, I'm afraid.

Right, back to bed, where I will be catching up on the mountains of sleep I've missed. It's tough when your used to 12-hour-long, uninterrupted slumbers. My only saviour to this relentless schedule (I don't care what you might say, festivals are hard work folks) has been the beautiful, delicious, Bonsoyed up coffee from Taylor St Baristas in Travelbag, on 130 Queens Rd, Brighton. I highly, highly recommend it. While I might just be particularly overjoyed to have found a little place with rich, smooth, nutty coffee, Australian baristas (with Australian accents - oh my, how I've missed you!) and BONSOY (the kind of soy milk that cows are frickin' jealous of), I don't think I'd be understating if I said it's the best coffee I've had in England. Hell, the best coffee in EUROPE, I've had thus far. Man, the best weekend and the best coffee ever. What's going to come next? The best sleep? Yes. Please.

Bugs and Flowers

As per Nina's request, I took some more photos of my new little picture maker. Since my last post, I've looked a little more into getting film for it but as far as I can gather it only takes this kind. No longer in production, and quite expensive to get developed, getting film might be more trouble than it's worth. Oh well, I predicted as much when I handed over 50pence for it at the charity shop. I think the camera is quite content sitting on my drawers and playing in amongst the ladybugs and flowers for now.


On a similar note (camera, photography, models, hair modelling, hair cutting. You see my train of thought?), I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow afternoon at Mahogany in London. I'm thinking a colour change might be in order. Any suggestions? I'm thinking green. If only so I can camouflage in the lush grass. I may or may not be wearing monochrome green right now for that exact reason.

Whistle Past The Graveyard

Pere Lachaise is a beautiful, morbid and particularly Gothic cemetery in Paris. It's home to Oscar Wilde, Jim Morrison and Edith Piaf, to mention a few. It's nicknamed the 'City of the Dead' due to it's sheer vastness. There are even streets and districts. It was stunning.


However, that said, don't feel like you have to venture all the way to Paris to take it in Pere Lachaises beauty. Whilst on their website, finding a link for this post, I saw that you can go on a VIRTUAL TOUR. Like Star Trek except less spaceships and more zombies (to any film producers listening: Yes, I would be willing to write and direct such a film).

This was the breathtaking crematorium. Each tiny square you can see on the wall to the left under the arches, is someone's ashes. That wall continued behind the crematorium and up the right side, almost every square filled.

Scarf: Bought for €1 from Free'P'Star in Paris. Unfortunately, I lost it somewhere in between packing my bags and arriving back in England. I was pretty devastated. To lift my spirits, Bobby got us tickets to see Kimya Dawson in Brighton on Tuesday which definitely has me feeling at least 76% better.
Dress, belt and broach (worn as a necklace): From various charity stores in Eastbourne, England.
Holy stockings over plain black stockings: D.I.Y.

I found these two friends for a couple of euros in Paris, just around the corner from Free'P'Star in a little Asian shop. The one of the left has been named Toowit and the guy on the right, Toowoo. They're sitting atop a comic book written by the multi-talented Jeffrey Lewis, another Paris acquisition (the comic, not Lewis) from when we went to see Lewis and his band play at La Maronquinerie. Bobby's review of the show is much better than mine could ever be so I'll point you over here. But basically, the first support was almost too weird to mention, the second (Casiotone For The Painfully Alone) very Bright Eyes and very enjoyable, and the main, Jeffrey Lewis, brilliant.