Friday September 25, 2009
Just an example of what The Groop has planned.
Words by Zoltan
Thursday September 24, 2009
“Who’s next? Hey can I help you?”
As it turns out I was the next in line, standing in some other space, paying little at-tention to the no messin’ around woman behind the counter.
I stepped forward and tapped my hand on the faux marble, trying the figure out what I was supposed to be doing. “Ah,” stammering, “I’ve come to pick up some tickets.” She raised her eyebrow at me.
“On the guest list.” It was awkward but we worked it out. Luckily the woman behind the counter was used to dealing with people like me. She had that surly but helpful demeanor.
I walked through the milling crowd to find Ally. “Got them,” I said as she smiled and shivered, clutching her bands together and raising her shoulders to her ears. The night felt warm but cold gusts kept streaming down the street whirling up skirts and in-between legs. I clasped the tickets hard in my hand as they danced helplessly around my fingers. Wolfmother, they read in bold, Door 3, Standing.
Words by Zoltan
Thursday September 24, 2009
The Polaroid won’t be with us much longer so as a small gesture of appreciation for our self developing friends I decided to make a Polaroid Book to remember them by.
Words by Zoltan
Monday August 31, 2009
It all started one night as I sat watching a movie in my living room. My camera sat next to me after a hard days work and I couldn’t help but pick it up and start taking photos of the room around me. After a few lack luster results I shifted my focus to the television and took a couple of snaps of the flickering monitor. Something very strange happened.
Words by Zoltan
Sunday July 19, 2009
Words by Zoltan
Monday July 6, 2009
In my final years of uni I started to lose faith with modern academia. Hiding behind mountains of footnotes didn’t really have the same ballsy charisma as sticking to your ideas regardless of what others have said in the past.
Words by Zoltan
Sunday June 21, 2009
Not long ago I read this sentence somewhere on the web. “Dear Sydney – especially those of you feeling a bit uninspired, you should get to the Ken Unsworth exhibition on Cockatoo Island.”
I thought “why not?” Inspiration is one of those funny things. It comes and goes and when it wants. You can force it out or wait around for it to roll along like a bus without any seats because everyone who gets on is too excited to sit down.
Allison didn’t know if she could come with me on Saturday but I had to go. It wasn’t just for the exhibition. I wanted to be stranded in a stark, run down landscape, walking around through relics of development with nothing but the sun above me and wind beside me. I wanted to photograph this place floating in the middle of the harbour.
So I bought her a little plastic camera, a lomo, a white Diana. It was a deal breaker. Just the ticket to get on that bus and stand around like lunatics loving all of the same shit that bored us before, just because our hearts beat a little faster.
Saturday came around and I tried to sleep in but it was no use. I had to get out there. Everything else was in the way, an unwanted hurdle until I stepped onto that isolated soil.
The train was hot and repressive. People knocking elbows and making useless noise. I looked over at Allison but she was reading to pass the time. I couldn’t, all that energy was churning away inside, the sort of stuff that could power machinery.
When the ferry pulled away from Circular Quay it all changed. Cutting waves and icy winds let you know your moving. I couldn’t stop telling Allison that ferry’s were the way to travel as my eyes darted around the boat washing against the coast. She just nodded and sat quietly but I knew she was loving it just as much as I was. The fresh air and teetering transport changes your perspective. The world always makes a little more sense when the ground it unsteady.
On arrival we picked up a map from the smiling old lady on the wharf but knew we wouldn’t use it.
“Where should we go?”
“Anywhere you want.”
We knew we were going to go everywhere and the order didn’t matter. The island didn’t really matter. We just needed somewhere to go. Somewhere dramatic so we could see everything through a view finder.
I raced through student exhibitions while old artists stood in the corner with their black turtlenecks and bald hair criticizing the MCA like they were arbiters of taste. We tried every door of every warehouse just to see if we could get in, look around, get bored and get out.
The only thing that made us slow down was a room full of miniature grand pianos hanging from the ceiling as if they were about to wash onto shore. Its moment like that you realise the human brain is something else.
Words by Zoltan
Sunday June 14, 2009
Most ideas go nowhere.
Filter out the good ones and make art of the dregs.
Here’s what was left at the bottom of the sieve.
Now show me yours.
Words by Zoltan
The Groop Is...
Twitter
remixes http://bit.ly/8JtU6 2009-11-17RT @modularpeople: Circa 1979: Signal to Noise just got Facebooked - http://bit.ly/L42VT - check it! 2009-11-04
RT @modularpeople: Modular presents Circa 1979: Signal to Noise as part of the @Sydney_Festival: http://is.gd/4NvnF 2009-11-04
Can you hear the whispers? http://bit.ly/11ZlNe 2009-10-21
The groop whisper http://bit.ly/45IgRg 2009-10-20
a short film http://bit.ly/39px6Q 2009-10-18
Australian Edge interview with great photographer Carine Thevenau http://bit.ly/DBAd8 2009-10-05
The Groop's own @littlegonzales in the Mona Vale Attic http://bit.ly/9Q3xH 2009-09-30
A sneak peek at what we are up to http://bit.ly/1MKlTS 2009-09-25
What were you doing on Saturday night? http://bit.ly/l566r 2009-09-23
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