Saturday, March 9, 2013

Imperfect

Image Source

Image Source: Rookie Mag

Image Source

Image Source

Image Source

Image Source

Image Source

Image Source: Heathers (1988)

Image Source:
nosex: ALICE (JAN ŠVANKMAJER, 1988) 
Image Source

The Adorous: Feminine Mystique

Image Source

Image Source: Pattie Boyd

Image Source: Beatles Fan

Image Source

Image Source

Image Source

Image Source

Kurt and Courtney

Image Source

Image Source

The Adorous: Pretty on the Inside

Rookie Mag: Dear Diary

Image Source

Image Source

Image Source
It's my first day back on campus as a mature and knowledgeable second-year student and a year wiser I realise just how awful it is to be a first year and permanently have the campus map glued to your hand. For the most part my notebooks are pretty and pastel just like this photoset but I feel underwhelmed to do any work whatsoever. Without the textbooks to read, resources from the library and without a wallet to purchase anything I can practically justify this procrastination as a good use of my time. Almost. I really regret not taking my laptop with me this morning and lugging two empty and pristine notebooks which I'll only feel comfortable writing in once I get home. I am excited to hear my Conservation Biology unit will be dealing with political and economic issues for me to sink my teeth into but as far as topical discussions go, that is the extent of my mundane little science degree. And I have another two hours left to ramble before my next tutorial class is due to start. Now l can finally write about something important and touching in masses: the importance of pastel.


I think now that I'm done recapping my day and generally bitch-facing through the miracle of written text I'll explain my mood and general mindset. I have terribly missed the whole idea-change experience that is university, even the awkward-cringing moments of trying to duck and avoid creep that pop up at elbows but there is something missing. The whole place was pretty much built in the 1960s and then additional units were joined, amalgamated and fixed until we are left with the ugliest Frankenstein/patchwork building layout ever created. The whole thing is a bit of a nightmare to look at. One of my sessions in a place called  'The Rotunda' reminded me of an M.C. Escher aesthetic, but a whole less imaginative and with fifty shades of beige. It seems that while feminism and paisley dresses were all making bounds and leaps in progress, this era for architecture was a nightmare and leaves a pimple on the face of history. And not I have to look at it, drink in the design daily and feel maddened by it. And I just have one small question: where's the colour? And in particular, why oh why can't everything look like the suburban village of a Tim Burton film?

I'd like to now disclose my love of pastel in the world and ask the impromptu but important question of :where would we be without pastel? Living in a tiresome world drowned out by bright colours and mundane beige generally causing assault and offence to every human set of eyeballs that's where! I just feel really caught up in both the ugliness and beauty of the suburbs as a really great background to interesting outfits and art. Rebelling against it when it's heart-breakingly sad and springing forth from it when practiced with medical precision and perfection. If I could I'd print all the above images out to make even more fanciful collages and stuff but unfortunately I just can't so I'll imagine what it would be like to live in them and soak them in. Because the real world sucks at the moment and is so much hard work.

1 comment:

  1. i love these, gives me great mood!!!
    please write comment in my blog, if you can

    ReplyDelete