So it’s been a while. Internet – I apologise. My film’s in post-production which has stirred up a whole lot of work. Work which I deemed necessary to practice severe levels of procrastination to avoid. I achieved this (with honours) by completely re-arranging my house. In doing so, and moving a very large wooden cabinet from the kitchen into my bedroom, I discovered the reason why it may have been put there in the first place. A gaping big hole of peeled paint.
Never one to resist a challenge, nor an opportunity to create a collage – particularly when that collage is of the great Barry Humphries (AKA Dame Edna Everage – Australian comedy royalty) – I rose to the occasion using a great shot I found in a 1970’s edition of Interview Magazine. As his new position was to be over our chopping block, I captioned it accordingly. How ‘come hither’!
In my life, I have managed to surround myself with a group of exceptionally great-looking people. How they all ended up so impressively disfigured when I attempted to recreate them as puppets is beyond me and honestly an art in itself.
The intriguing part is that Katie, my pal with whom I crafted these magnificently ugly creations, is a skilled beautician and makeup artist and does in fact professionally make people look better than they usually would. Turns out felting and feather-work is a whole other can of worms.
Yep. We made finger puppets for our pals this Chrissy and good heavens they were a hit. Complete with a little bell on each one to keep things sounding festive when they were inevitably jiggled about.
(It should be noted that I had written several ‘finger’ gags in this post that I have tastefully edited out for the benefit of my family. I am partially saddened by this but proud to be displaying such self-restraint.)
Over the last 2 years of living in the United States, I have been surprised by how often I am asked: “Do Australians celebrate Thanksgiving?”.
The enquirer usually figures it out immediately after the question leaves their lips, swiftly taking into consideration the origins of the holiday. This will generally be followed by a sheepish explanation of their mistake and a quick departure.
While joining in my quest to complete the Foxen mural, the effervescent, deeply creatively inclined puppet enthusiast, makeup artist and hair stylist Katie Nash (some might assume she is the grandchild of Madonna, Leonardo Da Vinci, Jim Henson and Elizabeth Arden) took pity upon me; I am, after all, missing out on Halloween in San Francisco which, I gather, is an absolute hoot.
Not one to let timing get in the way, Katie decided to celebrate with me in advance over chicken tacos, some killer makeup and on-point Vogue circa 1985 (a great year) styling:
Please be sympathetic to my post-day-in-the-office, pre-looking-like-an-actual-fox dreariness. The dramatic nature of this transformation has raised concerns that Katie may actually be practicing some kind of voodoo or witchcraft. Highly appropriate for the season.
In the interest of staying relevant and on the pulse of popular culture. Wait. Let me start again. In a convenient coincidence, I have just finished a mural of foxes in the same week as the release of that catchy new hit single “The Fox (What Does the Fox Say?)” (dingadingdingding ding) touted as this year’s Gangnam Style – so you know it’s a ripper.
Finally someone (three former members of the Harvard Fox Club) let me paint a massive double-height wall in their residential home with the help of many pals, two big-ass ladders, a ton of nachos and the occasional beer. After drawing a shockingly vague sketch on an old cardboard box of how I wanted the geometries done, it took about a month (a few nights every week and a party) and here’s the progress:
Pascale taping
Klaus checking out his tape work
Painting party
Kramer and Katie helped us one night… But this is a picture of Kramer and Klaus
Big-ass ladders
After the tape came off… Crisp geometries
Krink pen for the foxes
Yep, little guy on the right is totally dreaming up those shapes.
An overwhelming number of people who came to see the mural commented how strikingly ‘3D’ it appeared in person. About 4 people. Such feedback pleased me as it is, after all, 2 dimensional pretending to be 3 dimensional. Which is not that many dimensions compared to how many we might actually be existing amongst according to string theory. Anyone who has ever wondered about space and time should watch the series The Fabric of the Cosmos: It’s fascinating.
Special thanks to all who helped: Klaus, Paul, Pascale, the 2 Canadian Alex’s, Katie, Kramer and all you cats at the post-masking tape party. And the landlord – for not spewing about it.
If you think this is the last fox post, buddy – you are wrong. All good things come in threes.
My life thus far has been a decoupage of mixed emotions and messages surrounding the common fox.
1. My mother hates them as they kill all the chickens and only eat one – necessitating her locking them in their coop every evening. She also used to go shooting foxes on farms as a young vet student.
2. My godmother’s family share the name Reynard and swathe their house in ornate figurines and tasteful imagery of delightfully mischievous, handsome foxes.
3. My favorite Dr. Seuss book was Fox in Socks… Which resulted in my ICQ name and first email address back in the 90’s (Wow. Just wow, that I just said that) being Fox In Sox. At hotmail of course. Also, I thought, what a foxy and appealing name to the pimply braces-clad boys who might court me via the internet in the hopes of sharing a bag of Wizz Fizz at the train station after school the next day; or more desirable even, that we might both be attending the same school-organised dance (I was enrolled at an all girls school, inter-school dances were our livelihood) where I would put on an impressive display of branding, upholding my web presence as the ‘fox in sox’ by donning a pair of knee-high rainbow socks.
4. I was also a big Roald Dahl fan as a kid, and frankly, Fantastic Mr Fox carried on like a complete jerk.
5. My closest family friend has a penchant for arctic fox fur, seizing any opportunity to travel to a climate cold enough and accepting enough for her to adorn herself in her plethora of luxurious wintry garments. Mind you, she’s in the Reynard family so I imagine that had some influence.
6. My most-viewed video on the internet to date involves Banjacks and Pervis (Anna Bennet and I) purchasing fox furs from a vintage store and wearing them while we have a spitting competition in the park. It’s called Vintage Furs.
So where does that leave me? Loving them? Hating them? Killing them? Filming them? Well I’m clearly thinking about them. And in doing so, Klaus and I noticed a flaw in the English language. Check it out:
One Ox, Two Oxen.
So…. I propose
One Fox, Two Foxen.
Come get some, Oxford dictionary. Or should I say, Oxenford dictionary.
Anyway, all this fox business came up as I’ve been asked to paint a fox mural with a friend from work this weekend. We shall name it Foxen and be paid in beer. Thus inspiring the following:
Who seriously does an architecture competition just out of the goodness of their heart without a boss breathing down their neck? Well, despite having 3 landscape designers drop out of our team of 5, Erik Kramer managed to keep me on deck to submit our crack at the San Francisco 280 Freeway comp. Most of our conceptual work was achieved over a bottle of vino and in the company of our replacement 3: my mother (as she visited SF – she offered practical nuggets), Dr Klaus (came for the dinner, stayed for the good times – he offered spurts of inspirational genius), and Casey (came for the dinner, and I think he left after that….?). Then, picture my sorry mug sitting in a Chicago hotel room, alone, at 3am the night before it was due…
Looks like toffee apple land. Anyway, the competition called for:
… concepts … that are made possible through the replacement of the elevated Highway 280 north of 16th Street with a surface boulevard.
So our design is all about re-use of materials and structure, engaging with vistas, and re-energising the community… by turning a freeway into a park and other assorted delicious elements. But I’m not so much the architectural lingo frother, so I’m linking you out here if you want to read more.
Basically, my passion lay in giving it a jazzy name… And as I ABSOLUTELY LOVED the recent Star Trek: Into Darkness flick (admittedly unexpected – Klaus had to bribe me to go see it), I had one of the most satisfying moments of self-entertainment when I came up with this one: Tar Trek: Into Parkness.
Just take a moment to mull that one over.
Yep. Pretty good huh. Especially when put next to my other suggestions (“double double soil and rubble”, “grassy promenade deluxe suite”, “crouching rubble, hidden elevator”, “I can’t get no fenestration”, “banana hammock”, “rocky slice of cheesecake”, “duck crossing”), you’d think I had a winner. However with a crude and blatant disregard of my – I’m going to say it – literary genius, it was submitted under “Bay City Stacks”. How vanilla. Albeit appropriate.
So I vanished from the interwebs for a couple of weeks – and for good reason, well three good reasons. The foremost being: I had no computer. Why? Well this mural above is largely at fault. So am I, but I would certainly prefer to put the blame on something inanimate who will wear it with far more grace than me. Yes – I was painting this mural with Klaus at [freespace] with my car parked out the front (“who parks a car in SOMA?!” – says everyone after the fact.) and my window got smashed, my trunk opened and my laptop and camera gear (among many other things) were flogged.
This is just a symptom of me being a huge noob in San Francisco. Yep, it’s a learning curve. Turns out everyone I mention my tale of woe to has had something stolen from them within the last year in this city. Most of them not lucky enough to have travel insurance and to end up with a faster-than-Usain-Bolt, higher-resolution-than-real-life, brand new macbook pro. Like moi. What a smug little bastard. There it is again. Lemons to lemonade. I do still find myself sans a decent camera, but that will come.
Anyway – the half-finished mural. It’s a collab with Dr Klaus again (although my mum who was in town last week (WHICH WAS EXCELLENT) did have a hand in mixing some colours for us) and there’ll be some ink on top. Perhaps the dripping whitewash will give you a clue…
… Okay the suspense is killing me. I’m thinking of drawing a cow on it.
We also did these posters that will be cut in half, branded and gifted as thank you’s for the good people who donated to the second month of [freespace]. We taped up some poster paper and when choosing colours, I suggested “let’s just do the whole thing gold”. No objections from Klaus.
In retrospect, the Dr Klaus/thedarclaud mural style may have been ominous – looking like smashed glass and all, one might say we predicted the theft from my car, Carlos. Which would make us clairvoyant. So my next post may be just purely tea leaf-based art.
THEDARCLAUD■ 
