Filed under: playable
I love miniatures. In school I would stay up into the wee hours working on 10×10cm paintings with my size 0 brush (the ‘eyelash’ brush). And I have had a soft spot for the micro-cosmos of terrariums since I used them in the set design for Babushka in 2004. The attention that the mini incites is one reason I like them, but they also do something that quite belies their smallness. That is, they make things eerily bigger – time slows down, moments of emotion resonate in increased intensity. Check out the way the dramatic is deployed in the artworks of Thomas Doyle…


Filed under: playable
Pressed into a shallow heated space between audience and front curtain, the five performers of This Kind of Ruckus stand poised, ready for action, red crepe pom-poms quivering just slightly. ‘It’s theatre,’ they seem to say, ‘It’s a show.’ But that’s a complicated idea in the world of Version 1.0’s politically charged, verbatim theatre. Even more than in previous shows (the wheat one, the boat one), the lines between real testimony and performance text, or performer and person are decidedly grey. The subject matter here – domestic violence, sexual violence, power and control – is strangely intimate, as rage often is. In two equal halves, the ensemble examines ‘consent [a]s a grey area.’ How do we get from here to there? What separates accident and intent? Who is culpable?
I look away for just a moment and a heavy, bouncing disco has become an uneven stumble-embrace as David catches/pulls Kym and they fall to the floor. A mediated rehearsal of how-are-you-I’m-ok becomes an exercise in misunderstanding. Overhead, slow motion replays dissect the moment of embrace, a tumble, the changing pallor of rage – in extreme detail, over and again. Smeared stage blood and eye-shadowed bruises turn a game of which 12 guys would you fuck into a sinister and grotesque play of aggression.
It’s just a show. But I leave unnerved.
Version 1.0’s This Kind of Ruckus
Performance Space, Bay 20, CarriageWorks
9 September 2009
P Space website
Version 1.0 website
I remember hearing about Cassandra Jones’ cheerleader wallpaper years ago, but this interview with the artist also takes a look at recent animations using found photos. Suns set, moons wax and wane, birds fly… like most animation, it appeals to my ocd nature, and like all photography, it deals with the de/re-construction of time and movement.
Filed under: wearable
Psychiatrist Dr Karen Norberg, of National Bureau of Economic Research in Cambridge, Massachusetts, spent a year knitting an anatomically correct replica of the human brain.
Full story in the Telegraph here.
Filed under: wearable
One-way stretch Italian wool fabric was bought close to a decade ago at Australian designer Sally Bluff’s bolt end sale – now it is slightly 1930s inspired top (bias-looking construction, but actually it is a bit of a cheat). Jim is Mr Henson due to muppety open selvedge seams at shoulders (I think of him often).


© JSP
Filed under: wearable
Teva Durham’s yoke vest – many people have blogged about Durham’s difficult sizing in general and this pattern in particular… I rewrote the pattern partly to compensate for my 180cm frame and partly because I used a different wool which made the gauge all off (3.5″ width to 10sts instead of 4″ with a US13 needle). So I added quite a bit into the yoke and hip to add length – I will post my resizing here soon. I also changed to a US11 needle for the collar – there is no way it could stand up knitted with the 13. Very fast and easy pattern however; it took a day and a half, with a bit more time in front of the tv to weave in the ends.


© JSP
Filed under: wearable
Wrap-around lace sweater from Stefanie Japel’s Fitted Knits, using Madil 70% kid mohair and 30% silk in colour 459. Quite warm, but light and floaty as a cloud…


© JSP
Filed under: wearable
A waisted cardigan made from four big balls of undyed wool left by my grandmother. It was based on a pattern from Stefanie Japel’s Fitted Knits, but I altered the detailing around the collar and waist, and changed the sleeves in part because I only had this much wool – I knit and un-knit the first sleeve about three times before I figured out something that could work with what I had left.


© JSP
Filed under: wearable
Was recently reminded of this strange and wonderful bit of writing from Ben Marcus’ The Age of Wire and String. As we approach the final week of Masterchef, it reminds me of afternoons in costume history class and painting plates of costumes through the ages… It makes perfect sense, and yet – what?!? Eh? I love Marcus’ redress (excuse the pun) of language, disturbing the idea that words are stable things. And how authoritative history is thrown into question by his acceleration of time.
How odd, what we wear and eat.
The Food Costumes of Montana
In the morning in Montana the leg was bound from the ankle to the knee with bacon or hair and then cross-gartered with thongs or strips of uncut rice; later a slack taffy, bound at the ankle, was worn. As the lower legs of the taffy became more fitted, they were called slews, and as the slews eroded or spoiled to the knee, fitted milk skins called loops were worn. By 11.30am, feet were added to the loops. As slews grew shorter, loops became longer; by 12.20pm, the loops reached the hips and were attached by butter webs to the stomach. By c. 1.00, the loops and slews formed one garment; thus shads were first known. Beans and nuts were used, as was kale, and color became extravagant. The shads were multicolored and often each leg was clothed in a contrasting food style. As the upper part of the loops became more decorated and puffed out, a separation occurred (c. 2.30); the upper part became known as pike rings because of the swimming motion the food made as it circled the thigh, and the leg coverings were for the first time called bones and recognized as a separate accessory of dress. Knitted bones were first known in Oklahoma (3.27); in Montana, Linder is said to have worn (c. 4.00) the first knitted vegetable bones for a record-setting period of three minutes before succumbing. Knitting thereafter became general, and machines came into use after autumn of that hour. Colored, cooked, and reversed pike rings were worn at 5.15, though cooled wheat sleeves were the fashion. Also at that hour the decorative bean boots of the army were of the northern or navy style, although oaten socks were shared by sisters during the 5.30 festival. Cereals came into use after 6.00. Noodles, because of their strength and elasticity, became the leading loop fiber after the Evening War. At 7.30, women began applying the fudge girdle, a one-piece garment that spread from waist to feet. As men’s milk slews spoiled throughout the evening, their loops grew shorter and fresher, and the word food officially came into use just after sunset. Women’s food, although hidden until midnight by their skirts, has always been an important part of their costume. It is expected to remain fresh for many days, and will certainly survive the women who wear it and the men who look at it.
Filed under: watchable
Been an extra pair of hands for video artist Sam James this week, as he works in the studio on a new installation work titled The Nest. He said in a recent interview for Realtime, “The main notion is that space is a series of interconnected links, like a nest. With conceptual forms similar to ant nest architecture, I am interested in making connections between these found spaces and people. The compositing and animation process is digging the tunnels, to try to make connections between subject and space, and also to make connections between them as newly invented, discrete entities.” (read full interview here)
Sam is constructing layered, composite environments from footage he has shot on previous travels, and will place performers in these spaces in post-production. This week we are recording the performers in a little black studio at UNSW (picture below from my phone). Visit Sam’s blog here.

Sam confers with Peter Fraser before filming
