credit: mary parker
"I'm a heart in cold ground. You are my centre when I spin away."
somebody that i used to know.
by kimberley veart
We used to fit so well, it was all so comfortable.
We wore each other out, I suppose. Mended and patched until we matched.
You were like the trusty sweater I could reach for when the days turned cold. I knew (well, I thought) you would always protect me and brighten me up as the world grew grey.
We used to fit so well, it was all so comfortable.
We wore each other out, I suppose. Mended and patched until we matched.
You were like the trusty sweater I could reach for when the days turned cold. I knew (well, I thought) you would always protect me and brighten me up as the world grew grey.
why won't you open up to me?
by charlotte guest.
I need you so badly it's making me sick.
I've been biting my nails and pulling out my eyebrow hairs, and now I have stumpy fingers and my forehead is nearly bald.
You are the reason I will someday, sometime next week, be ugly.
what to do with an arts degree.
by kimberley veart
There was a hot air
balloon floating over the amber clouds as the sun set, and I almost drove off
the road.
I was struck, gazing
wide eyed through my windshield and almost breathless.
I had seen (dramatic
drum roll please) ... my future.
excuse me, is this gym tonic?
by charlotte guest
I walked out when she told me to shimmy; I don't care how tense my buttocks would have been.
I walked out when she told me to shimmy; I don't care how tense my buttocks would have been.
The evening was never
going to go well because the lady at
the door tried to trick me into buying maracas, and I almost did
because I thought she said “maccas”. Then I found out that we had
to wave them around like some bollywood Coles advert.
Welcome to
Zumba.
optimists anonymous.
by kimberley veart
I had a dramatic moment of self realisation this week.
Previously, when people pointed out my tendency to saccharine sweetness and sugared happy endings, I would deny that I had a problem. I'm just a party optimist, I'd say. Merely a casual user of the upbeat.
I can give up whenever I want.
I had a dramatic moment of self realisation this week.
Previously, when people pointed out my tendency to saccharine sweetness and sugared happy endings, I would deny that I had a problem. I'm just a party optimist, I'd say. Merely a casual user of the upbeat.
I can give up whenever I want.
things to fill your universe with.
by charlotte guest.
My
universe is five metres by three metres, and, sadly, has not seen
many big bangs of late.
It's an inner-outer space: a little personality showroom (trinkets, puppets, pencils, book-spines, brooms, clocks, a dying corsage). It is such that if I cracked open my skull I'd expect to see a doll-house version of my bedroom in there.
It's an inner-outer space: a little personality showroom (trinkets, puppets, pencils, book-spines, brooms, clocks, a dying corsage). It is such that if I cracked open my skull I'd expect to see a doll-house version of my bedroom in there.
touching base with janet yates.
Artist Janet Yates gives Clementine a glimpse at the memories that swim upon her palette.
Your latest collection, Memories of Exotic Lands, is explosive, the colours leap off the canvas and appear to celebrate these referenced memories. Would you be able to share the most influential memory with us?
a chin-wag with gloria marigo.
Italian photographer Gloria Marigo chats to Clementine about the girl behind the lens...
Your work feels very nostalgic and almost secretive; are there any stories behind your projects that you'd like to share? Any specific memories or people that they address?
the way we were.
by kimberley veart
You can
feel distance in the delays on a telephone call. In the resounding, echoing
quiet. If you count the seconds you can count the miles.
To fill
the void, you talk and I talk. We are drowning each other out, words descending
into white noise.
We are
forced to abandon this futile attempt at communication.
"Can
you hear me?"
myrtle.
by charlotte guest
Today I was handed the obituaries in class. I took this as a bad sign.
Today I was handed the obituaries in class. I took this as a bad sign.
We
were using the newspaper for a linguistics exercise, and I got death.
The girl next to me had a headline about incest. I was surrounded by
death and Deliverance*. I took this as an intensely bad sign.
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