Zoe Zombie

26 May 2008

// May 26th, 2008 // Comments Off // art

25 May 2008

// May 25th, 2008 // Comments Off // art

24 May 2008

// May 24th, 2008 // Comments Off // art

Painting is becoming an issue.

// March 29th, 2008 // Comments Off // art, opinion

The last time I did a painting was in 2003. I absolutely loved it then. I had no boundaries and no reservations as to what I could achieve. And now we fast forward to 2008 and I am scared.

I was artistic as a child. I would usually spend weekends painting with Mum and sometimes Dad. These painting sessions would last for hours and even though all of those paintings would get thrown away, (thanks to Mum, who is the most anal cleaner in this universe) I always felt excited to just paint whatever I wanted. Art was my favourite subject in Primary School and then into High School where I did my last painting.

At the time, I was suffering quote bad depression and my painting of Jonathon Davis from Korn had a very gloomy outcome. Although I never saw it that way – I saw it as someone I could relate to in that point in time. He seemed like someone who felt tortured and who was harbouring a deep hatred of himself.

I always saw painting as something fun and something that I became obsessive about very quickly. Even though I am eager to do it now, I am still hesitant. I hadn’t touched a blank canvas in years apart from yesterday when I went down to Jacksons and bought one. Now all I need is an idea and I am sure I will hit the ground running.

High School Flash Back #43280

// August 1st, 2007 // Comments Off // art

I was known as an insane hippie in high school. I wasn’t popular, I wasn’t unpopular. And I was more than happy not to be classified as anything. I had a bunch of friends who the popular kids called us “rejects” because to them, we didn’t fit in anywhere. Now that I think back at it, I would much rather be a reject than be in any other social group. Rejects had far more fun because they never cared what anyone else thought about them.

By the time I got to year 12, I was suffering from a severe case of clinical depression which I often hid from my friends by being humorous and making people laugh. Because of this, no one really took me seriously or saw me as a threat. In fact, a lot of people probably saw me as someone who could be walked over because apparently I was just a clown.

I had a quick wit, make dirty jokes in regards to genitalia and various gasses and bodily fluids, I made rude comments about teachers who we collectively didn’t like, I constantly took hits at myself at the expense of other people… so it was no wonder that most of them who did not know me very well never took me seriously.

I was extremely emotional and always got angry. Even more so then than I do now. I cannot even put into words how angry and hurt and upset I was all the time for apparently no reason. But like I said, I always pushed it down. I never blew up at anyone because it wasn’t my style. However, there was one person who I had had enough of and unfortunately, my fuse was shortening at a rapid rate. She just happened to be on the receiving end of it.

She was new to school. New kids usually start of quiet and awkward, unsure of where they are going to fit in and if anyone will like them at all. But we readily accepted her because she seemed cool and she also seemed like she didn’t fit in anywhere. After about two days, I noticed something about her. She was quick to shoot people down, even if they were having a laugh. She retorted angrily to people who joked about her just to get her to have a laugh. If someone said something that was incorrect, she would correct them. She was an all out know it all. I don’t mind people who “know it all”, just as long as they don’t try to be a complete dick about it and make people feel about two inches tall. She did that to everyone.

Mind you, she was awesome to have a conversation about art with. We were both in the same art class. She loved painting and so did I so we had that in common. However, she sometimes looked down on me because I never took art seriously like she did. How could I? Our teacher was a flower eating Croatian lady who always got pissed off with Petra and I if we swore in our parents/grandparents native tongue since she could understand us. Some guys in our class thought it was funny to make a penis out of clay and put it on her desk. She called that sexual harassment and lost it. We called it the best fucking thing that happened that day and lost it laughing. Although, looking back I felt sorry for her.

I was also doing photography at the time. I had done it since year 8 and I was a keen student, constantly doing my work and more. I took great pride in Photography,  as I just saw art class as a place to muck around and paint dark and depressing portraits.

So during an art class, I decided to finish off my photography journal as I had finished my mosaic. The new girl was sitting across from me doing some artist assignment as I was doing my photography journal. Our assignment was still life and we had to find examples of buildings, structures, signs, toys.. any inanimate object that was not living. I remember pasting in a picture of the Louvre because I had always wanted to go there and I always thought it was one of the most beautiful structures in the world. She stopped what she was doing and narrowed her eyes down at me and said in a monotone:

“That’s not still life.”

I stopped what I was doing and looked up and her. She never looked me in the eyes and just looked down, disapprovingly at my work.

“Yeah it is, it’s a building.”

She still never looked at me and said in her matter-of-fact voice: “No it’s not.”

By this point, I was starting to fly off the metaphoric handle. This kind of behavior had been happening the whole time she was at school. People often made comments to me about how annoying she was or how they were intimidated by her because she made people feel stupid. I felt badly for them, but I said nothing. Now I was victim #43728947, and she was starting to make me angry. And when I got angry.. you do not want to be the focus of my anger.

“Um, yes it is. It’s a building. The Louvre.” I said, trying to contain my voice which was breaking because I was pushing down my anger. “I thought you know, you would think it’s cool.”

“But it’s not still life. There are people inside.” She said in that tone again.

I forced a smile and said, “But what if it’s night time and no one is in there? Is it still life then?”

She rolled her eyes and got frustrated with me. “Jessica, it’s not still life, ok?” She spoke to me like I was a child and that just put the final nail in the coffin.

The situation was getting tense because Petra and the other girl we shared our table with were looking at each other and then looking down trying to avoid the splatter of an impending blood bath. I looked at Petra and then I looked at miss know it all. She was looking at me, with her eyes looking down at my work. I could feel myself getting angrier and angrier. I was probably going red in the face because I felt so hot. And then, the floodgates opened.

“Do you know what?!” I snapped, “It might not be still life in your fucking world of fucking art or whatever the fuck you want to call it because you’re so fucking good at it like you fucking tell everyone else you are and make everyone feel fucking stupid for god knows whatever reason, but in photography a building is fucking still life. It’s not living. It’s made of fucking cement which I believe is fucking dead. So how about you just shut the fuck up about your worthless fucking art bullshit and stop pretending you know everything because it seems to me that you fucking well don’t.”

Of course, I do not remember the exact tirade but it did go something like that and I remember that I said a variation of the word “fuck” every second word (as it was like this in my vocab back then) and I stood up for myself and the little person. I admit that looking back and even at the time when the words escaped my mouth I regretted them because it was totally out of my character to do this.

She sat there silent and looked shocked. Petra and the other girl looked up at me in the same reaction, obviously also shocked that I said anything. I swear to god the whole class fell silent hearing my angry rant. I ignored it and said nothing and returned to my work. She never spoke to me again after that and I was secretly glad.