emails, thing, 2015
For Centre For Style's Boulevard show at Gertrude Contemporary
S: Dear Sarah,
I know your mum told me to stop writing to you but I don’t think I can. You’re the best thing thats ever happened to me and I’m really sorry your dog died.
It’s been about 3 weeks since I’ve left but really, it feels like an eternity. Mum and Dad have been at each other’s throats ever since we got off the plane but quite frankly, I’m not surprised. You know how it is. So much for a ‘family’ holiday - anyway the hotel is pretty nice here.
J: Dear Sam,
I had this really strange encounter on the street today. I had just finished exercising in the park when it started fiercely raining, so I took cover under the foliage of a densely thicketed collection of trees. And who was I to find there but none other than a really different version of my uncle. He had 3 gold teeth that I couldn’t recall him ever having, and a really funny but cute patch on his jeans of a bumblebee.
He was fiddling with something in his pocket really urgently and was sweating even though it was cold but it could have been the rain, i don’t know. Anyway we chatted for a while then I left - and as I did I pulled off a really cool and difficult somersault that he didn't see because he looked away right at that very second which really sucked because i wish he saw it.
He also said that he accidently smashed one of those vitrine displays that you made and that he is really sorry!!
S: Dear Sarah,
Sounds like quite a day!
I have fond memories of your uncle.
Remember when he was changing that tyre on the side of the road that afternoon outside that famous barnhouse we both really wanted to see but couldn’t, for obvious reasons… anyway, he had an air to him that was virile. He was so full of life, so to speak. Is that the right way to describe a person? Virile?
Anyways, it's no big deal about the vitrine, really. I remember drawing up the schematics for the vitrines and when I picked up a Derwent pencil to shade the appropriate areas of the drawing, in this case, I was adding a glare effect to the glass to create the illusion of depth thus rendering the drawing more life-like and realistic, I kept having this weird feeling in my stomach, like butterflies but it was more nauseous.
My parents have left the hotel to go for a walk and I’m listening to Metallica.
J: Dear Sam,
Yeah that barnyard it was….. nice.
I was at home yesterday and all these events happened at once:
Tony was changing the baby’s nappy and Rebekkah was sewing in her chair with that song playing really loud, when the dog died. At the exact time of death, Rebekkah pricked herself with a pin and someone screamed outside. As Rebekkah walked through the kitchen, she bled all over the white tiles but didn’t stop because she was concerned about screaming in the yard.
Tony picked up the baby and we all found the dog dead by the newly installed pool.
Later on, somebody suspected that it was the dog's blood in the kitchen but Rebekkah confessed that it was blood from her finger and we all cleaned it up together.
Celeste was taking photos the whole time with toy camera she got for christmas. We confiscated it afterwards to delete everything, but regretted it immediately and called the manufacturer to enquire into the possibility of retrieving the deleted photos from some kind of ‘cloud’ that they may or may not have been saved on to.
S: To My Precious Annabelle,
Hark this: I’ve got two identical sets of information for you. Would you like to hear the first?
Well, as this is a letter you’re reading from your screen, which I guess is light bursting through pixels that are really close together, such close proximity that the human eye sees a whole image or however the fuck computers and electricity works, I guess you have no choice but to read the information as it’s presented to you, as it leaves my brain and turns into typing or some shit like that.
So here is the first fact: you’re fired. I’m very sorry to let you go but as you know, Baker’s Delight simply does not have the resources to keep you employed at this point in time.
Also, your apron is always filthy. The bunny ears that you were required to wear over the Easter Holidays must be returned by the end of the week. Friday at the latest.
They must have caused a sense of embarrassment to yourself, those bunny ears. When I gave them to you initially, you bestowed them upon your head like a regal crown. You seemed very proud to receive this gift; elated, with a grin that went ear to ear. But as the days passed and the shifts went by, I could sense that you did not in fact enjoy wearing those ears. I got a sense of this when your friends would come to visit you during your break. They eyed them nervously during your break, where you undoubtedly bitched about the pay, the fluorescent lighting, the smell of bread in your hair and on your skin.
You claim that it soaks into your bloodstream...the stench of ham and cheese croissants, in particular, irritates you.
You and I both know that when you dropped that chia loaf yesterday, that the bunny ears rustled against the bin liner, gently sweeping the black plastic.
What you don't know is that a chia seed was somehow lodged in the fabric of one of those ears - maybe the right ear, maybe the left, I don't recall at this point - I have been scrubbing them with a scouring pad for what seems like 20 minutes in hopes to coax the seed out, to separate the fabric from the seed but it seems that this darned seed is practically embedded into the ears.
That stubborn seed and your dedication to the work force are one and the same.
Thanks a million,
S: Hey Jake, do you want to come out for a drink tonight in the city somewhere?
J: No, sorry I can’t. I'm doing FebFast.
S: Oh come on! It will be fun!
J: Ok….depends on what you will be drinking…
S: We will be drinking Mango Daiquiris.
J: Okay, I'll come - but just for
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Your polly pocket funhouse is broken, it was pissing me off, I crushed it under my…...
S&J: Thank you.