You don't have to understand the world. You just have to find your own way around in it. - Albert Einstein

Thursday, 27 December 2012

Art in the Wild - Reel Wimmin

I've travelled, and been to galleries, and studied the Masters and perused expensive art books, but after all my adventures, I must say that the most amazing art is often not found within these traditional boundaries. I love to notice and discover art in the wild, scrawled on city walls and stuck up with blu-tack in the most unexpected places. I discovered this piece of writing on such a scrap of paper, on the wall of the toilet in a share house in Scotts Head, New South Wales, and recorded it in my journal on August 17, 2000. The celebrity references clearly indicate its vintage. I have no idea who the author might be - if you think you might know who she is, or maybe who melina & giselle might be, I would love to hear from you.

Alternative spellings are rendered true to the original.


REEL WIMMIN (inspired by melina & giselle, & Arnie movie bimbos)

And I say 'fuck you, fuck you' to the smarmy smooth images of long-legged blonde bimbos, tottering moronically round Arnie Schwarzenegger movies... just 'fuck you' for parading your one-mold-fits-all icon of Barbie doll superiority in all of our faces; cos I can tell you right  now that REEL WIMMIN don't sit anywhere near your ridiculous mindless models, no way chickie babe, us reel wimmin explode like flowers from your cardboard cut-out examples of womynhood. We're not clones, we're not pre-packaged vials of anorexic plastic... we're short and black and gay and deaf and wide and middle-aged and yellow and pregnant and gap-toothed and fleshy and freckled and black-eyed and afro-ed and teenaged and flat-chested and Moslem and wheelchaired and musclebound and indigenous and hook-nosed and Hindu, and 10 million other variables besides, cos we're multi-coloured lollies to your stale dry Barbie crackers, and we're proud to be real. Yeah, and you betta believe that us REEL WIMMIN don't inch around office desks in restrictive prison-cage clothing, we don't burst with cosmetic surgery outta Hollywood sequins, we're not slinky, sophisticated, seductive or demure, no chance honey, we're running and leaping out of our minds and mini-skirts, reeling and dancing stiletto-less to the sun and the waves, flinging arms and legs and hearts around in joyous celebration of life, as we skateboard tuff-legged down careering rainbow rivers of our own creation. We're witches and warriors and wanderers and whores, we're nuns and electricians and mothers and martial artists, we're downtrodden and triumphant, we're goddesses and junkies... and with seaweed in our hair, stars in our teeth, dirt on our hands and food in our mouths, we tear tumbling down your elongated ribless plastercast molds, till they're revealed in all their vapid futility, yeh we take Christie and Elle and Naomi and Kate, and we lick them, and smash them hurtling shattered out of our headspaces, as we lay back and bask in our own innovative, imaginative, independent, individual REEL WOMYN-hood.


Amen, sister. 

1 comment:

  1. Amen!

    so... if the prefix "a" indicates the absence of something, would Amen actually mean *women*?