There's a hole in my heart that goes all the way to China

Actually that's not true. I did know a guy once with a hole in his heart. We had to go and visit him in hospital when I was in primary school. His name was Phillip.

There is also a hole in the gas main, and now, because holes seem to love company, there are two large holes in the bottom of The Terrace where people are looking for the hole in the gas main. If you look closely in the above photo of said holes, you can see the obligatory guy standing around with his hands in his pockets. I wonder what level of job satisfaction that role delivers.

Oh, the carnage.

Here at One Moment Caller we like to carry ourselves with the utmost of poise and dignity at all times. And we very nearly manage this at all times.

Except maybe when we ride our bike to work, with new shoes and cleats for our clipless pedals, that make it really quite tricky to unclip our feet when we get to a traffic light, which may make us fall over in front of a small crowd waiting to cross the road.

Tinks 0. New shoes 1.

Street Art continued...

I had a really fun discussion on the weekend about the validity of street art, and its balance between the illicit tagging and the exhibited stencil ends of the spectrum, and where the New Zealand, and particularly Wellington blend sits.

While we've got our very own Misery and Mephisto Jones making some pretty clever statements and developing recognisable styles, they seem to have been repdily elevated to the gallery (maybe not so much the gallery as the canvas on a cafe or clothes shop wall). We seem to be lacking the buy-in from the wider community that it is a valid art form. Witness Melbourne's city-wide embrace of stencil and managed grafitti. Or Banksy's sustained efforts in delivering high-brow messages through a lo-brow medium. But then we have a whole seedy undebelly of society who view it only as a self-branding exercise, making no point other than they were there.

Maybe the stage is perfectly set for a considered showcase of street art, to position it apart form the mundane tagging that councils are poised to come down hard on.

More about Nick.

I'm pretty sure this is a picture of my alter-ego Nick. On a date with Paris Hilton.
It's funny - you'd think I'd remember something like that. They must be slipping me drugs.

Hi. I'm Nick.

Please excuse my tardiness. I've been hibernating, hosting, and hiding behind everyday life.

In breaking news, apparently I have an alter-ego. Named Nick. I don't know too much about Nick yet, but was introduced by someone to two fellow bloggers (one Rose and one David Cauchi) last night as Nick. I'll keep you posted as I find out more - he sounds quite intriguing. I suspect he's a lot like me, only taller.

Inspired

A whole bunch of my friends have done cool things lately - one has taken her clothing label to the world, another is behind a big rock-climbing venture in Wanaka, another has set up a successful consultancy, and a couple more have taken their businesses to the next level. It's been lots of fun helping out a couple of them where I can, but I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't be plotting to take over the world in my own small way as well...

Watch this space. Maybe.

If you lived here, you'd be home by now

You know in those home mags you buy that often have a Before and After photo sequence showing Dick and Jane's inner city pad as the heaving cesspit they bought it as, and now as the architectural beacon of the Western World, swathed in wall-to-wall Italian furniture, showcasing the latest in lighting and decor...

I'd like to say this is the After shot of my apartment. But renovations haven't started yet. But they will. Oh yes they will.

But sadly no, it's actually the Sydney pad of a good friend. Lucky bastard (said with love, of course). Who said minimalism can't be cosy?

1,000 words

I've just discovered those DIY photo mini-labs in camera shops, where you can plug in your memory card and print whatever you like. I could even use it - which was nice, because beyond computers and software, which I spend all day coaxing into making things look pretty, I suspect I'm becoming a bit of a tech-luddite. I don't have an MP3 player, signing up to Bloglines confused the hell out of me, my cellphone does nothing more that make and receive calls, and my home computer is coming up 5 years old.

I like to think of it as a a form of considered tech-minimalism.

Committed

I was conscripted onto my first committee last night. That's me in the plaid shirt. It seems the thing to do when one reaches 'an age', and it's a chance to donate a bit of time and a few ideas to a cause I'm moderately passionate about. Watch this space (and a big chunk of land just past Karori...)

So last night was my first red carpet experience - the opening of the new Sky City cinemas in Lower Hutt. I won't review too much - it was a great night, full of real dignitaries (who all drive Mercedes it would seem) and famous people that everybody talked to, and interestingly, a couple of famous people that nobody talked to. And the cinemas are stunning - I encourage you both to go there.

A highlight for many was the WALL OF FOOD! A giant clear perspex triangle wall with little slots in it that had spoons of food poking out. You simply plucked a spoon off, ate the contents, and deposited the empty spoon in a silver bucket. I should have taken a camera. It was pretty special.

And having to walk a long red carpet through a closed mall was eerily cool - like tiptoing past a sleeping giant - only in this case it wasn't a giant that wanted to eat you, it was a giant that wanted to eat all your money, and leave you with armloads of brightly coloured shopping bags filled with brightly coloured mall clothes. Everything was so shiny and bright.

I might get round to reviewing the film we saw at some stage, but a lot of money was raised for the Te Omanga Hospice, which made the event feel good, and the lucky attendees feel good by association.

Star Studded

Contents of pack given to attendees at New Zealand premieres of Miami Vice and Little Miss Sunshine to mark the opening of Sky City Cinemas, Westfield Queensgate, Lower Hutt:

• 1 x 55g bag M&Ms
• 1 x 50g bag Light and Buttery Popcorn (naturally flavoured)
• 1 x August 06 edition of M2 magazine (plastic wrapped)
• 1 x Famous Faces auction catalogue, proceeds to the Te Omanga Hospice
• 1 x A5 brochure for the Gold Class Cinemas - the ultimate cinema experience (I can vouch for this)
• 1 x complimentary ticket to Gold Class Cinemas
• 1 x $10 gift voucher redeemable at Westfield Shopping Centres
• 1 x donation envelope for the Te Omanga Hospice (used)
• 1 x Kiwi Blue still spring water (600ml)
• 1 x blue Bic pen
• 1 x Pop'n'Good chocolate and caramel popcorn
• 1 x sampler, Britnet Spears new fragrance Fantasy (which I am reliably informed makes me smell like a teenage girl)

But is it art?

I could have taken thousands of photos of Melbourne street art/grafitti. I could even have got a t-shirt that states I (heart) Melbourne Grafitti. And a book of the same.

But no. Showing uncharacteristic restraint, and choosing not to prompt a divorce as I halted mid-stride to take yet another photo of some sticker or scrawling on the side of a building that looked kinda cool, I only captured a couple of examples.

I'm not sure why it's so prolific there. Wellington was becoming that way for a bit, but stencil art seems to be no longer the avenue of artistic expression du jour. Places where it was really strong, like Peter McLeavey's doorway, now resemble tagged out Auckland railway sidings more than Melbourne alleyways. The slyly humorous stecil has gone and in it's place is the urgency of a crude, indecipherable and illegitimate aerosol autograph.

Shame really.

Guilding the Lily

Sure she's got an annoyingly catchy little song, with some decidedly aggressive lyrics, but my question this morning callers, is just who is this Lily Allen character, and why is she EVERYWHERE?

All through Melbourne her name was grafittied (sp?) in the same script as is on the album. It did make me wonder if a new advertising medium was being employed. Now my local clothing store is sending me emails (it really has become a mad interweb world) to enter competitions to win custom Nikes designed by her. All of this would be fine if only the Nikes weren't so cool!

Auckland gallerist Michael Lett made a big impact in Melbourne with his bright yellow stand, inflatable bunnies (moved into various compromising positions daily) and heavily curated rotating show. This undoubtedly contributed to the extremely positive profile of the 6 New Zealand galleries at the fair, and equally nice media exposure and feedback.

Little Carrot Angel

The Little Carrot Angel came down to earth to deliver a message of peace and hope, and save the good people of Melbourne from the ravages of gluttony in the form of eating too much, and sloth, in the form of sleeping too much. She did this by making everyone feel ill, and in some cases keeping them up all night as they returned their chinese meal to the earth from whence it came. By both mouth and bottom, in a somewhat emphatic fashion.

Naughty Little Carrot Angel. Go to your room.

Airports smell like the future.

Something about the smell of jetfuel - it's naughty and nice all at the same time.
But really this post only serves as a segue to post up more photos from my shiny new camera.
I've photoshopped one of these for added effect. And if you look closely you can see the Southern Cross. What ho!

And so to Saturday

Sifty breakfast at a great little cafe on Gertrude Street in Fitzroy, a wander along Brunswick Street, and into the Fair for the morning shift. And I've met 2 NZ tv stars today, which as we all know is waaaay more important than meeting artists or collectors.

And they give us free art magazines every morning. All I need now is free coffee and croissants and I'd never ever leave.

But wait there's more

We now have the Kingpins - drag act extraordinaore - performing an 80s medly, next to the 30 foot high inflatable rabbit. So just another average Friday night really.

30 minutes to go and then I'm off to have proper Italian and loads of wine on Lygon Street.

"Shot through the heart, and you're to blame..."

From the trenches

It's Saab VIP night here. I can't understand why Wanda isn't here. A suitably Art Rock band whose name eludes me have just fired up next to a 30 foot high inflatable bunny rabbit by Mike Parekowhai.

I just tried to sell an art work by discussing the fact it was controllable by remote control. I think I'm going to hell. Right after this detour to heaven.

Vernissage

Contents of gift pack distributed to those exiting the Melbourne Art Fair Vernissage (in no particular order):

1. A4 page about the Melbourne Art Fair Foundation
2. Copy of magazine The Monthly - Australian politics, society, and culture
3. Booking form for a test drive of a Saab
4. Compy of Saabmagazine - the innovation issue
5. Voucher for a complimentary flute of 'ultra premium sparkling wine accompanied by a cheese plate'
6. Voucher fo $50 off a cut and colour service at oxhey & bushey
7. Reproduction of the first chapter of Justin Paton's book How to look at a painting
8. Cellophane wrapped 2-pack of greeting cards from Artbank
9. Catqalogue of Saab's current range
10. Quirky 'Saab is art' spiral bound notepad
11. Silver ANZ Private Bank moneybox, decorated to look a bit like the tower of London, plastic wrapped in a blue box
12. Cellophane wrapped silver metal ANZ Margin Lending pen

Gidday mate

I quite like Melbourne. It's easy to navigate, flat, warmish, and seems to have a phenomenal number of cafes. And it has a great art fair.

Setup day today - lots of fun installing art, scoping out what the other gallleries from all around the world have to offer. Some very very cool art. I moght pop down to the casino tonight - a decent win would mean I just might be able to afford some of it...

Fingers crossed, eh?