Looking: Tobias Rehberger

Why are Germans always the kinky ones? Tobias Rehberger is an installation and performance artist who sometimes dabbles in other media, such as photography. His work drips with satire, such as Untitled (above), which parodies Fergie's oh-so-90s toe-sucking antics, albeit with a cuter guy, and fluoro cardboard cutouts.

Rehberger's installation piece, the cheekily titled Lying Around Lazy, Not Even Moving for Coke, Sweets, TV or Vaseline, (1999 version), is kinky in a different way, because it sets out to deliberately reverse the usual artistic process. Usually, artists generate an artistic vision first, then execute this vision to be later enjoyed by the viewer. In this instance, Rehberger asked his friends what they would like in their ideal apartment. He then sought to recreate their vision without giving any input or feedback on what he thought of the idea. Similar to how bloggers created the plot for 'Snakes on a Plane' (but with much better results).

So what's my point? I guess what I'm saying is that Germans are kinky. That's all. I rest my case.

Quoting: Henry David Thoreau

"Simplify, simplify, simplify" - Henry David Thoreau, 1854.

Picture by David Burdeny whose long-exposure nature shots so beautifully depict the true meaning of simplification, like the above photo of Canadian wheat fields.

Looking: Iwan Baan

Iwan Baan is a Dutch photographer best known for his work with OMA/Rem Koolhaas. Obviously, this means he has plenty of divine architecture to use as material. But Baan goes beyond simply photographing buildings, and combines people and place in a way that few other photographers manage.

Travelling: Japan

I've always wanted to visit Japan. Despite Sensei Graetz's abhorrent teaching methods in Grade 5 Japanese lessons, the land has always held a certain allure, with travellers telling tales of vending machines that stock everything from hot coffee to women's underwear; fish markets where you can have sushi and beer for breakfast; and a Bladerunner-esque cityscape.

Unfortunately, the ridiculous AUD to JPY exchange rate - which has plummetted in the past six months as the below graph shows - means that it will be a while before I can afford a trip to the Land Of The Rising Sun. I could visit Honkers, Taiwan or Shanghai to try and replicate, whose currencies have marginally better exchange rates, but I'm sure it wouldn't be quite the same.



By the way the top pic is by Nicholas Vroman, a fine arts photographer who takes the most amazing pics of Japan. Nicholas is currently the Featured Artist in F-Stop e-zine.
(The bottom pic is available from any currency exchange provider and is enough to depress any travel-hungry Australian).

Reminiscing: Confucius has closed

Confucius has closed, originally uploaded by traffman.

Confucius was a little Chinese restaurant in Kings Cross. It never occurred to me to eat there because it reminded me of a low-grade Chinese restaurant, the type you find in country towns. But its closure has me reminiscing.

Chinese restaurants first began appearing in Australia in the 1950s. Australia in the 1950s was a very different place to today. Meat and three veg was the staple diet, immigration was something to be feared - not celebrated - and a large proportion of the population lived in a regional or non-urban setting. Despite the advent of the White Australia policy and subsequent ‘yellow peril’ hysteria, there seemed to be one Chinese family in every town, who would own the one 'international' restaurant. Albury, the country town where I grew up, was no exception.

I have fond memories driving empty single-lane highways with my father throughout regional New South Wales and Victoria, knowing that no matter what town we end up in, it would have a (nearly always empty) Chinese restaurant waiting for us, serving such cultural delicacies as sweet-and-sour, chow mein and, best of all, deep-fried ice cream. I cringe at the thought of eating these foods today, and, it seems, so do my neighbours, as the closure of Confucius illustrates.

These restaurants demonstrate sheer entrepreneurialism. Men and women moved their families into foreign, remote and unwelcoming environments, and established a business in the hope of creating a new, more prosperous and enjoyable life.

In the urban and self-consciously evolved society that is contemporary Australia, it is easy to dismiss our first taste of international cuisine as pure cultural cringe. But I am grateful to our first international restaurants and the people that ran them, because they helped establish the rich culinary landscape that Australia enjoys today.

Without chow mein, we may never have had Kylie Kwong, and for that we should be eternally grateful.

Looking: Wasteland

Wasteland, originally uploaded by traffman.

Untitled Urbanscape 5, Mauren Brodbeck 2004/2005

Untitled Urbanscape 9, Mauren Brodbeck 2004/2005

I've always admired the photography of Mauren Brodbeck, particularly the Untitled Urbanscape and Cityscape series which so brilliantly captures that sense of hopelessness and domination that one feels from bad architecture.

But, having not learnt the art of digital photo manipulation yet, I have to make do with taking photos of what I see. So I was delighted when I came across this brilliant blue wall in an abandoned car park on Parramatta Road somewhere near Granville.

Looking: Barbara Kruger

No More Junk, originally uploaded by traffman.

The lovely mondomuse kindly tells me that this pic reminds him of Barbara Kruger, the anxiety-inducing NY conceptual artist who pioneered guerilla art by plastering her work on billboards and bus shelters, long before Bansky.

Kruger's work has parallels to more contemporary satirical media, including The Simpsons and, more locally, Kath & Kim, as it subverts mass media and popular culture in a relevant and easily-digestible way.

You can create your own Kruger-esque images at the wonderful ConsumeDaily.

Publishing: Three piglets

3 piglets, originally uploaded by traffman.

This is the first of hopefully many published photos of mine, thanks to the most excellent folk at Monster Children. No they didn’t pay me, but it’s still fun to see my piglets in all their printed glossy pink glory.