Static+Sunday

                                     

статического воскресенье

Those Sunday nights filled with static noises in the background, your radio playing a sweet tune and the low lights of a faulty 90's desk-lamp; peeling paint and all. I wanted to create a mixtape to kind of try to capture that mood. I am having one of those typical sunday nights filled with plenty of ceiling staring, strumming of a few strings and piles of paper on your bedsheets. The night sky is too much of a stranger, so is the weather- it is one of those nights where everything seems still; unusual and sinister.
I can hear the kitchen appliances scream outside, but they are pleasantly being blocked out. My mind feels like it is wrapped in cottonwool when I listen to these tracks, sweet dull cottonwool. It also makes me think of the small bedroom I slept in during my visit to Prague.

My next post will be about bedrooms and my fascination with them. I always felt curious about the bedrooms of different people I had met or even strangers. They are so intimate even if it is just a room for visitors. They can hold and share so many stories; from the people that have slept together in them, the leftover reminders kept on the shelves or the posters on the wall. Our bedrooms are skins, clothing our inner thoughts, opinions, ideas- and we decorate them accordingly. They reveal our priorities; whether we have time to decorate them or not, or interests, our cleanliness , our state of mind, our memories. Everytime I walk into my own room I am overcome with memories of the people I have lay next to on my bed, late night flicks I had watched, the pillows I cried on for hours, the discoveries I made staring into space, the promises, the noises- everything, memories of everything and anything.

Well this mixtape is sending me to sleep.
x Zsuzs

PsYchedelic+Spit

~Well in the wake of another dull spring morning I thought I would vomit colour onto my blog with a few pictures I took of my splendid friend Luke. I adore those days spent doing nothing but sitting on the ground staring into space, there is no pressure to speak, think or move; only to feel the dull rays of sunlight. I really like those days. 

The week has felt like a rush of overwhelming events yet nothing monumental or life changing has happened. My head has been switched onto a channel of constant study and the mind numbing static noise of equations; drilling itself further and further into my day...and now I really want to turn everything off. This simple task of revision has constantly drained me but also made me feel two conflicting emotions;

a. That it is very important to be doing revision, and a task that I need to complete in order to gain the rewards. 

b. That I am really, actually doing nothing, and the time period should be done doing something constructive and  fulfilling. 

And so on most days I spend my time conflicted about the method by which I spend my few precious hours and get a shock upon realizing that I have wasted numerous minutes, trillions of seconds, lifetimes for some creatures, merely thinking about how to spend time. And so now I really wish my trembling hands could reach those days where I would waste time sitting in Newtown cemetery and taking pictures from every angle.

Back to the actual images; I thought I would experiment with external colouring of film photos, so I soaked these in my special dye mixture and swirled patterns till my hands were tinted with pinks and blues. I spent so many hours in the darkroom that I think my lungs are soaked in developing agents, silver nitrate based chemicals, hydrocabrons, phosphites, bromides, all kinds of toxic delights. 

I am quite pleased with the psychedelic mixtures that came to form, but feel like I lacked involvement with the actual process. Next time, I think the whole colouring will be more controlled and patterned so I can feel like I actually did something. Back to swimming in possibly toxic dyes!

Zsuzs x

                 

-Timid Hello-

I am Zsuzs. I like the taste of air at 3am. I like to wander in supermarkets full of life and direction. I like meat packages and price tag descriptions. I like to watch girl on girl action at 4am. I would like the riot grrr movement to breathe into this decade. I like collecting the skeletal shells of insects and barnacle flakes. I like meat on my flesh not on my plate. I like to dislike. I like to run to nowhere and from nothing and to no one. I like low key factory gigs with fresh smoke to choke on. I like sashimi and Androgynous Japanese boys with clean white socks. I like over the top, kitsch/novelty clothing. I like stickers on my face, in my hair, on everything. I like 90's videos and images that are overly contrasted, and have peculiar hues. I like veins under water and peculiar cuts/ bruises that must have cost a fortune. I like bosoms. I like groupies and fallen idols. I like to read about tragic lives and suicides. I like to read newspaper obituaries. I like to watch flowers decay. I like to write poetry on toilet paper rolls and play on distorted, out of tune guitars. I like fullstops. I like 1969. I like to read about pharmaceuticals and research distant tribes. I like to collect mushrooms. I like to develop photos and inhale silver based chemicals. I like Soviet architecture/buildings. I like communist fashion. I like second-hand books. I like polly pocket. I like liking things.