Random life shrapnel.
Sitting on my main table is a sorry little scrap of red car panel, my last keepsake from my old car. It got collided with on Monday night while it was parked on a sidestreet. Nobody was hurt: I was halfway across the town centre drinking coffee and typing, and the girl who hit it was fine. The car, though, isn't coming back. After spending rather more than I expected to on taxis this past week (advice: take that option in your insurance for hire car cover) I've now selected a new one and should be envehicled by tomorrow afternoon. I'm going to call it the Blue Ghost. (Most of my cars end up with names.)
The thing I was typing was a script submission for a comic book anthology. It's finished and sent, on the evening of the deadline, after a small crisis when I realised I hadn't read the guidelines and made it a page too long. Editing went well. We'll see what happens.
True Stories by Bangarra Dance Theatre. Two pieces, one a very traditional-style Torres Strait Island dance piece reflecting old-school lives of fishing, hunting, foraging and dancing, and one a much more contemporary piece about the Maralinga nuclear tests. Both pieces were good in their own ways. The first one was very unified by a single style of music, dance and appearance. It wasn't too far from what you could imaging yourself watching out in the Torres Strait itself. The second used much wider ranges of dance, costuming, special effects and sound - particularly the sounds of Geiger counters and crackly old news narration about the tests which were extremely effective. Unfortunately the piece depended on keeping a strong and powerful mood through the last few scenes. I say "unfortunately" because of the contingent of dickheads in the audience who kept bursting into applause like an Oprah audience every time the lights dimmed a little or a dancer moved offstage. Fuckers.
The new chocolate cafe in town is a dangerous place full of dangerous things. Case in point, the Spoil Plate deal: a platter of small, lethally good chocolate things and two hot chocolates (or two glasses of wine if you want to ratchet the price up a couple of bucks). My waistline and weekly budget are both a little nervous right now.
Sitting on my main table is a sorry little scrap of red car panel, my last keepsake from my old car. It got collided with on Monday night while it was parked on a sidestreet. Nobody was hurt: I was halfway across the town centre drinking coffee and typing, and the girl who hit it was fine. The car, though, isn't coming back. After spending rather more than I expected to on taxis this past week (advice: take that option in your insurance for hire car cover) I've now selected a new one and should be envehicled by tomorrow afternoon. I'm going to call it the Blue Ghost. (Most of my cars end up with names.)
The thing I was typing was a script submission for a comic book anthology. It's finished and sent, on the evening of the deadline, after a small crisis when I realised I hadn't read the guidelines and made it a page too long. Editing went well. We'll see what happens.
True Stories by Bangarra Dance Theatre. Two pieces, one a very traditional-style Torres Strait Island dance piece reflecting old-school lives of fishing, hunting, foraging and dancing, and one a much more contemporary piece about the Maralinga nuclear tests. Both pieces were good in their own ways. The first one was very unified by a single style of music, dance and appearance. It wasn't too far from what you could imaging yourself watching out in the Torres Strait itself. The second used much wider ranges of dance, costuming, special effects and sound - particularly the sounds of Geiger counters and crackly old news narration about the tests which were extremely effective. Unfortunately the piece depended on keeping a strong and powerful mood through the last few scenes. I say "unfortunately" because of the contingent of dickheads in the audience who kept bursting into applause like an Oprah audience every time the lights dimmed a little or a dancer moved offstage. Fuckers.
The new chocolate cafe in town is a dangerous place full of dangerous things. Case in point, the Spoil Plate deal: a platter of small, lethally good chocolate things and two hot chocolates (or two glasses of wine if you want to ratchet the price up a couple of bucks). My waistline and weekly budget are both a little nervous right now.
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
For several years, I played around with a program called Poser which lets you pose and animate prefabricated human figures and make semi-nice renderings of them. I actually started using it as a vehicle to understand the principles of photographic lighting without having to invest in heavy actual lighting equipment and find willing human models, but it turned into an addiction of sorts.
Later I became increasingly frustrated by the limitations of said program and the shabby quality of their models. So I decided to give it a try myself. She's standing there so vitruvian because she's meant to be made poseable later. It's just her ground state, so to speak.
Is that about enough background?