#arkfail: DIY social media for noobs [now with monk porn]

as per my previous blog last week we [punk monk digital] launched this. a question of sorts:

and then in the wknd we gave some kind of answer:

overwhelmingly we have received loads of feedback. a thousand thanks. 99% was positive. if that was fat-free, you'd be buying it.

re: the fat.

if selling out is passing on the black lung and not being prepared to spend the rest of our lives in the coal mines then we will own that scurrilously spat title. whilst doing so we tried to do it with tenacity, humour, adherence to social issues we really care about: climate change, with just "a little nod" to popular culture & religion [in case you didn't notice]. we're not forgetting our socio political activism roots anytime soon. and yeah, we also paid attention to the product & the client's message whilst inserting some of our own unique brand. we're still legitimate artists/activists & make no apologies for commercial crossover. sorry if you prefer your guerrillas homeless & hungry.

there is a longstanding argument about corporations raping & exploiting artist talent in these style of competitions. i agree with the majority of the sentiment. they are exactly what they are. any hype filled rhetoric on rinse, recycle, repeat sheep's clothing delivered by such organisations must be rubbed into open wounds with more than a handful of salt. we know they lie. we know they don't give a shit about us. we know "sustainable" translated into corporate speak means units & profit margins.

you know those women getting "exploited" in porn movies? a lot of them are educated savvy streeet smart chicks making informed decisions about whether they want to be there or not. neither you or i have to agree with their chosen vehicle of expression or income generation but mostly they don't have a gun/or a raging coke addiction rammed against their head. mostly. either did we. sometimes exploitation can be two ways. a marriage of convenience. eyes wide shut.

the next question has to be: will it work? we have no idea. we're experimental filmmakers/culture jammers/projection bombers/social media amateurs making it up on the fly as we go along.

in the unlikely event that we seduce saatchi and saatchi with our voicemade bouncing animal sound effects & wa was inspired by 70s porn soundtracks combined with DIY animation skills & win: a chunk of the prize money pool goes back into our guerrilla film & art projects at punk monk propaganda. channeling struggling artist is highly overrated. we like to eat too. we're not going to be in the top fortune 500 anytime soon...

so far we've had over 2.5K views in five days which isn't exactly a viral success but we're still at the top of the clickthru/comment ladder after coming in on the last week of a six week long running competition.

thanks for helping us. tomorrow is the finish line. if you haven't already & would like to please just bounce along after the kangaroo, get your fluffer kit on and click here.

typograffiti

for me my love of type started with helvetica & david carson. ray gun magazine then bikini...

*swoon*

now this coming monday punk monks felix pflieger & michael prechtl with a little help from our friends bring you AR006: typograffiti.

street art crosses the divide & armed with personal markers in an exhibition setting at punk monk propaganda's corner shop, avid algae rhythmers can learn from these masked masters the secret of fusing type and graffiti into one in an intermedia setting featuring films, infra-red projections, posters, and a scavenger hunt culminating in a collective art project.

all this fueled by civilised pig's secret alcoholic ginger rhythm recipe. the only thing mightier than a pen in one hand is a glass of punk monk's special brew in the other. and a really big speech bubble canvas...

we can't guarantee NSW legislators how secure our spray cans will be but we're using travis bickle's clever arm design to conceal our dangerous weapons. you talkin to me?

maybe you should just write it... try this for some type of obsession:

between the lines

[img courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/72249211@N00/. thnx.]

it's the matrix. any matrix will do. the matrix in your mind. the matrix in your lounge. the matrix in the bar. you're offered a metaphorical choice. do you take the red pill or the blue? which one do you take? and why oh why is life constantly reduced to duality which only offers two options. why not take none or all of the above... or scavenge up a whole lot of other color pills. or eat, i don't know, say, mushrooms instead?

it's amazing how many people around me & then further away take lots of drugs. chemicals are everywhere. i float on the periphery of a variety of sub-cultures so go figure. some take more than others. through the various social networks i infiltrate some are more stereotypically apparent than others. people mostly don't offer me anymore & they've finally stopped asking me what i'm on. usually nothing. sometimes i shut them up by selling 1gm bags of baking soda. it's better than most the shit they're snorting anyway. jk.

i don't really care about moderate or occasional drug use. informed choices, yes. like a born again christian i've been there. it would be hypocritical of me to position otherwise. why should it be just ok for me just because i fantasise that jimi hendrix & i belong on the same planet? sometimes i still like to experiment with things that come out of the ground. within reason. with respect.

what i find inherently dull is that people end up using just to maintain some sense of normalcy which in relative terms research has shown is a lot less happier/stable than non-users. stability schmability you say... drugs do not make anyone more interesting. only perhaps only to yourself. if life is so dull without them, maybe it's time to mix it up.

sure ignorance is bliss & we're all familiar with the status quo argument that surround a sheep with grass and it will mindfully eat it's way through a green field unaware of the wider surrounds which is arguably just a sea of endless repetitive fields. despite old school government reefer madness-like dressed-up scare mongering maybe there could be something in it? if faced with choices where do you find real information, real opinion, decent sources talking the shit you can as a self-aware cynic trust? first video response to reefer madness would have to be "grass", by ron mann.

a few weeks ago i found myself in an interview situation where a couple of sex workers were bagging out their drug supplier because the liquid ecstasy one of the women had previously ordered had been shammed so instead of only having her usual 5 mls she'd had the whole 15 and not been as smashed up as she should've so was then going to organise a "john" to make a surprise hit on the supplier in her workplace [city brothel] because she's a "dirty fucking crack whore". "how so", i asked? because "she would have used the money for an ice fix". most importantly this conversation could have occurred anywhere between anybody. an ad agency boardroom. a plumbing office. a music festival. drug hierarchy. now that's fucking hilarious.

this week a new experiment in youth comms hit the interwebs by way of between the lines, a web based incentive which offers realspeak forum & blogs covering the expanse of issues in the ubiquitous scene that we invariably & inevitably are a part of. all of us. the stuff that mainstream media will not cover. the good, the bad, the ugly. balanced dialogue. is it truly possible?

it's still early days yet but fresh off the boat it sits in infantile form waiting to seed organically from collective stories, wisdom. from you. from us. from all sides of the fence. without prejudice. without gloss. without dumbing down.

this is one topic that we need to cut through the BS on. because honey whether you collapsed your septum on 85% columbian coke off the cisterns at the ivy or on some badly cut base in the back of the cross you'll still look as bad as michael jackson the next day after. but maybe have a slightly different ride in between. how do you monitor that?

early december AWOL monk with punk monk propaganda will be working with between the lines in conjunction with the launch of FBi does drugs week further developing our "loves me not" mobile series which is an inverted narrative dealing with mental health. come party with us. i'll save you my best blend.

a fine romance

a fine romance, my good fellow

you take romance, and I'll take jello

you're calmer than the seals

in the arctic ocean

at least they flap their fins

to express emotion

a fine romance with no quarrels

with no insults and all morals

i've never mussed the crease

in your blue serge pants

i never get the chance

this is a fine romance

toyota yaris... for a rainy day

we tried to make a viral film on youtube in our "spare time" for "fun" after i had a dumb-ass idea a week or so ago in the shower... sadly it took longer to execute than we expected. first we had to learn how to draw & animate [massive apologies to the rest of the team felix & davey for mammoth ambush].

then, um, we had to emulate an MP3 player pumping out 70s porn tunes [vox pop]. we still argue about the sound of a car door opening... we think we nailed the airbags. you know the toyota yaris has seven? it was just begging for an ark-like menagerie takeover.

the yaris campaign: it's like a swear word in social media ville. the stunt which has generated a fair amount of discussion on the interwebs. a world of cross pollination between a handful of agencies going head to head tapping into their oft under-resourced concept of social media in order to create a pyramid selling strategy with something even less tangible to sell than amway products or herbalife: an ad.

anyone watching TV in the 80s would have been subjected to the faberge organics TVC: with myopic cells dividing as consumers apparently pass on to their own network the blissful results of the first shampoo which apparenty yielded orgasmic like results. if we are to believe elida faberge's marketing team, this good news spread like AIDS: pioneering self-aware viral media. shiny silky hair for everyone.

back to the future to a bunch of shiny advertising agencies trying to outpitch the other in social media ingenuity. between a werewolf playing chauffeur in sydney, ingenious boot-boxing & a variation on lego stop motion, saatchi positioned themselves at the back of the imaginative pack by dangling a carrot to indie filmmakers & passing the creative buck on. lazy, ignorant and exploitive one could argue.

we didn't become aware of the campaign till after it was well into the active throes. knowing we were disadvantaged & time-poor[the competition is measured by mass clickthrough numbers & comments] we thought we might try anyway... after all we are starving filmmakers breaking into the fast furious vacuous world of advertising & although the tardy 7K prize won't keep us in film stock & processing it will pay our ailing corner shop rent.

we need you to click & tell us how much our first effort sucks. help us go to seed. is it too little too late to play 13th hour climate change bridesmaid? perhaps our effort is even less clever than saatchi and saatchi's foray into social media.

buy nothing: BND#09

[art by barbara kruger]

if descartes armed with plastic in one hand & scissors in the other instead of lube had a love child with warhol, it would be barbara kruger.

i have loved her for an eternity & today is an excellent opportunity to pay homage to her social activism in highlighting that not only does money not buy taste [the evidence is everywhere - stretched hummer anyone?] but no matter what you buy, it will not change your life. even though she says it will. that's irony 101 for you.

seventeen years ago [back in 1992], a guy called ted dave in canada created "buy nothing day" which was essentially a fast against consumerism -his original vision was to initiate a day of action for society to examine the gross issue of over-consumption. it was championed by the infamous adbusters magazine [my long time favourite culture jammers in town] and thus an international movement was born...

buy nothing day is an annual event. this year it's to be held in north america november 27 and internationally november 28. buying nothing is an horrendously difficult commitment as we move further away from the earth & closer to the the shops. i mean they're in our homes/minds now... closer still.

our credit cards & mobile phones have long since replaced lionel's blankie as personal security icons. we have evolved, as coined in my 2005 documentary with social economist clive hamilton: "ALIENNATION" into consumer bots. one step over the line of micro-chipping or bar codes tattooed onto our forms "for her swiping pleasure".

reiteration of jingles in popular culture have replaced fabled nursery rhymes as we unconsciously parrot away witty throwaway anecdotes with photographic perfection from repetitive imprinting of various ad ditties which become the new mythology. you're soaking in it... you have to opt out like a haight & ashbury hippie if you want to escape. we are surrounded.

the government doesn't want us to think. they want us to shop. affluenza is a corporate-made disease. capitalism depends on slavery to the system which is ensured through consumerist addiction. must have more stuff: the new mantra for an updated religion.

most television networks will not seriously cover buy nothing day despite the fact that is active with huge followings in over 65 countries [if you see it on the news it'll be in the fluffy animal segment at the end]. adbusters have experienced huge censorship & most networks will not carry their ads. apparently their money is not as good as everyone else who are promoting us to buy... well anything will do. just buy it. dammit.

creation of desire is an almost scientific artform these days for marketeers. we have been collated & databased to the eyeballs. psychologists and marketeers fuse forces to coax and coerce us to want more stuff. but how much stuff do we really need?

buying nothing for one day won't change the world but it is a vehicle for raising consciousness & examining purchasing behavior. it's not until going through the exercise of locking up your cards that you realise in the western world how often we use them. some people around the world never have that opportunity & merely face the consequences of our wasteful actions. who said that life was fair, huh?

what would happen if we did not conform. obey. consume. ??? cheesy as fuck but to quote john lennon & yoko ono: imagine. and then buy nothing.

BND#09

november 27: USA

november 28: the world

access all areas

a couple of years ago i was introduced to a bunch of physically impaired filmmakers through KINO KABARET. KINO is [as some people already know] my subcultural cinematic religion which became my family... this is the place where for the last two years i've been making films on & off on a monthly basis to showcase with a bunch of other under-resourced filmmakers who are also big on ideas.

together under the philosophical umbrella of "don't think, just shoot" we have risen above the crippling confines of no budget & produced numerous films of varying standard [some international film fest award winners] which are usually happily bolstered by the open jamesons & coopers bar to be savoured by the hundred or so people who regularly turn out to watch them/us.

KABARET is the more intense version of KINO where films are made within a 48 hour timeframe. it's a lot of fun & the environment is wholly coo-operative in an ego-free environment as new and old filmmakers alike come together.

earlier this year, i amongst a handful of others helped a friend, phillip debs, who is profoundly deaf since birth, sign out a short film; all things bright and beautiful as part of the coming together for sydney's only 48hour film marathon [we make a series of 48 hour films for the week with three sessions all up back on back]. it's a humbling opportunity to take stock of the aspects of life i coast through in on auto-pilot mode but conversely also appreciate the other aspects which are introduced when not so reliant on other senses. it helps that i like to wave my arms around...

the people behind KINO in sydney are the festivalists; a non profit company which has such incredible reach producing multiple film festivals throughout sydney & into the expanses of greater sydney. NSW would be such a sadder place without them.

sometimes it's hard to believe it's the work of just three nurturing vision-filled people: matt, marianne and karina aided & abetted by the sea of interns they invariably attract wanting to sit and learn at their generous & all inspiring feet.

one of their labours of love is access all areas film festival which kicked off a few days ago. bringing niche films [mostly locally produced] which are hard enough to see outside of arthouse cinema houses in major cities alone, the festival is touring NSW and taking the mountain to mohammed as it were. the films are travelling throughout wagga wagga, orange, griffith and outer regions within NSW to the people who don't take a trip to the cinema for granted. schools are included too.

issues of mobility, hearing impairment... are all covered where audio descriptions in addition to open ended captioning for all films are transmitted through individual audio receivers which are provided free of charge by the festival. carers are on hand at all venues to help make the less able more comfortable.

don't dis my [or any other's] ability. embrace the differences. reject homogeny.

fush n chup heaven

being a "kiwi" by birth, fish and chips are my soul food. for instant comfort zone all i need is a hot newsprint package with a hole torn in the side whilst my sticky little greased up fat fingers fight the heat & pungent fumes to oil slick up my greedy mouth and lips.... aaah, heaven. just add tomato sauce and stir.

increasingly it's becoming difficult to actually capture the perfect mix. and as an afficionado of such matters, my experienced taste buds, finicky pseudo vegetarian oil cooking requirements [yes, some people still cook in lard, i've even come across whale fat before] and eye usually baulk at what is on offer in sydney. however there are a few rebel chippies which buck this trend, most notably the original fish and chip co based on glenayr ave on the lazy back streets beyond the shiny hub of the beach itself.

they deliver to puritanical pilgrims like myself fish and chip perfection. it's not until i finish licking the last snail trail of delightfully salted grease from my fingers, like a neanderthal desperately sucking marrow from a bone that i remember something grossly inconvenient. this is deeply considered whilst sculling something artificial and fizzy in a can. the whole reason i'm on a month long sabbatical from alcohol in some unlikely kudos wager [at this time of year] with friend and fellow punk monk ky is that i seem to have mysteriously lost my waistline.

"world famous in bondi" <-- to find the original fish and chip co just follow the sexy skanky sound trail of bob marley wailing out onto the streets from the dim eames lamp-lit interior which cast shadows onto retro aqua blue wallpaper which blanket the red formica tables.

it seems a shame to leave. if only i could stay here for every meal. but then the image of gilbert grape's mother come to mind...

original fish and chip co

163 glenayr ave

bondi beach

symbol of happiness

when wedged between indiscernible shades of grey sometimes anything will do in order to reprogram/ambush the senses. even if it's the ubiquitous red balloon being pimped out by asian girls in matching cheap-ass corporate uniforms for some dull conference even the keynote speaker fails to get excited about.

their injection of colour & irrepressible ability to hunt out the smallest patch of blue sky & float away in a bid for freedom never disappoints.

it's always better to look up than down.

power to the masses

first the fan stopped. actually that's not true. the very first thing is the white organza which floats from my window frame reminding me of my inherent girly coquettishness blew off. romantic chick fail with instant gaussian blur. this was late last night. closely followed by the ripping of garden tarps emulating spinnaker sails in full inflated roar [they were literally flying]. it was a hell of a storm.

i don't know how many people were late to work today because the alarms stayed suspiciously silent. as i spent the best part of 30 mins on hold to energy australia after my bedroom became intolerably stuffy i realised the soft dulcet tones of machines whirring & grinding was coming from downstairs underneath the corner shop's street facing balcony.

thankfully my belated payment of the 866.74AUD power bill was not to blame for the power cut. recently energy australia increased its rates by approx 22% i was informed by the lovely operator voice when querying the bill prior to payment, as i begged for an extension on special extenuating "i am a cripple who sometimes doesn't face mail" grounds. ouch.

earlier this year in march, sydney CBD was subjected to a massive power blackout. basically everything shutdown. it doesn't take much to force everything down to a stuttering halt. the centralisation of utilities in society really disempowers people. where did that expression come from anyway?

still here are the energy peeps as they attend to this mass outage which apparently effects several blocks in alexandria. the corner shop is at the epicenter. i watch & talk to the workers as they winch up new thick insulated lines which circle the block before they prepare to remove the old lines [which can't cope with interference from trees - PS. they were there first]. i'm glad my money went towards a nice winch. also the truck is shiny with a crane et al which pleases me. i take pleasure from it like an avid richard scarry reader.

noone knows the exact nature or cause of the blackout from which i am briefly delivered from & scurry like the blog junkie i am to upload mobile pics before quickly protecting computer equipment from surge. it's a mystery they say. electricity is still not an exact science it seems. tell that to thomas edison & nikola tesla.

yesterday we had our usual punk monk monday night meet and although electrons fly & burst to meet the wild charged creative sea which crashes asunder i don't think it was that. perhaps those post 21st tarpaulins generated enough energy of their own to counter the fried toxic lines which pass within a metre of our building? turning our back on the grid of enslavement we could have sailed to hobart by now with the wind in our sails.

today is for renewal, something power companies only pay lip service to despite my opted into green power bill investment. i am a pure energy premium customer/sucker in a valiant bid to passively invest and encourage others to send a tangible message to the corporations who hijack us on days like these. i don't need to wear a bikini to promote climate change but perhaps if i did it would attract attention [my skin glows in the dark]. instead they use my extra cash to mine more coal.

it's a good day to shut down the computer & sow some seeds.

testing realities

customs house in circular quay might seem to be an odd place in sydney to see an exhibition. punk monks certainly frequent the inner west locale more often in pursuit of underground subversion/expression. we think art on the city's harbour foreshore, we think MCA. usually [except for free lunches] i leave the quay to the tourists. sometimes it's not till you play tourist in your own city that new discoveries, which are old, are made...

multiple displays whilst executing apparent clinical perfection [this need not be negative] can be seen right now with views of sydney to die for in heritage landmark surrounds. customs house has witnessed immense trade over three centuries being historically the sandstoned vehicle which brought people and goods together. now it continues this tradition in another guise.

with free admission, exhibitions cover three levels including the ground with events including the upcoming ferrero festival of light covering the exterior forecourt on upwards through to the first [nocturnal photography by peter solness] & second levels [remodelling architecture: architectural places - digital spaces].

leading up from ground level [testing reality: the architect and the model] i was led like a kid in wonder through the white walled labyrinth past the classic eames chairs jacked into the building wide free interwebs & made a pact with myself not to be such a stranger in future & to allow all cultural realities to blend. we have access. we have motive. we own this city.

haiku: screwy ninja suit

screwy ninja suit

my precious seeking gollum

love you real long time

open your mind [shut for business]

meet rozelle mental hospital otherwise known as callan park.

in a couple of weeks time punk monk propaganda will take over this abandoned space with a select group of experimental artists to bring the old girl back to life in the guise of a series of video installations as part of the multiple personalities exhibition in conjunction with leichardt council.

in the meantime since this healthcare facility [which oozes "one who flew over the cuckoo's nest" sensibility] closed a large section of the community who call this a home away from home are displaced.

wandering around the shell it's grossly apparent that home really is where the heart is. no matter how soul-less this environment appears to be, it is steeped in sadness and emotionally tangible history and the ghosts of christmas past. there are still traces of many stories to be told here. some which may wish to be forgotten. others desperately vying for attention. ward 17 is the legendary haunted piano ward...

join us in december for an altogether different flavour from santa's sack where we experiment with historical imprints in geographical space & bring mythology into the present. the shadows do speak.

[pix by punk monk felix]

delicious deco delight

rockpool bar & grill... 1930's style shouldn't be compromised by 21st century rhetoric. let the pictures impart the heritage style with a classic neil perry flavoured twist.