I'm no longer a corporate girl.

Here's a wee rant before I go to sleep. I've just stashed away my pencil skirts and stockings, as of 10:00 AM tomorrow my 9-5 office days are officially DONE. Alright, so yeah I had some fun in my days but I can definitely do without the databases, the filing and certainly the 'Oh and Boya, could you please see to it that I wipe my arse after I go potty?'s. Hehe, I'm only partially kidding, if I hadn't gone through the agony of office hell, I probably wouldn't be where I am today. So here's to my ex-bosses, colleagues and customers (that includes you useless fuckwits out there who couldn't tell your arses from your elbows); I thank you from the bottom of my heart, I mean it. (And make sure you wipe dem...) My course starts tomorrow and I'm thanking my lucky stars. Check out my new school uniform by the way; those of you who know me know this t-shirt was made for me.  

My first UK dental care experience.

I was just stuffing myself with delicious traditional English pastry thingies covered in custard and realized that I haven't told you about my first time with an English dentist. A couple of weeks ago I woke up in agony, my tooth was killing me and due to financial reasons I had only been able to see a dentist once whilst my 1 year and 8 month stay in New Zealand. And only for a consultation, not a treatment. I got up anyway, forced myself to man the fuck up and went to work after skipping breakfast and taking 3 codeine enforced painkillers. By the looks on the faces of fellow travelers in the tube I could tell this was not a good idea. I arrived at work and tried to act as if everything was OK, 30 minutes later I gave up and got kicked out by colleagues who forced me to visit a clinic. My GP directed me to the Kings Cross Emergency Clinic. So that's were I went and after having waited 40 minutes, 2 more painkillers and a semi-conscious conversation with a grumpy 70-year old Indian guy named Khan who apparently had been waiting in the overcrowded waiting room for an hour, I got called in by a nurse. Their treatment area consists out of approximately 6 half open cubicles with hardly any curtains, no privacy, and people everywhere. Fuzzy as fuck, I lay down and studied the stained brown ceiling. A fresh but remarkably young looking African dentist greeted me and during our chat I sort of gained consciousness and then fully realized where I was and what was going to happen. I was about to receive a rootcanal treatment by dental/med student with other students present for observation. A petite blond girl with a strong Slavic accent, who looked no older than 22, leaned over me and explained to me what was going to happen. She was nervous and kept stressing the fact that it was of utmost importance that 'I shouldn't be feeling anything after receiving local anesthetics because the treatment was going to be horrible.' Very subtle. I've been through the joys of rootcanal treatments before and they're nothing to be upset about, really. This time I was upset though. First of, she kept stabbing me with that needle because she couldn't find the spot which resulted in me having to walk around with a sore jaw for 1,5 weeks. Second, after a while the stabbing got annoying and painfull and I started moaning. Every time I made a sound she nearly burst into tears which unabled her to find the spot. It was a vicious circle. It took her about 30 minutes to get the infected nerve out and another 15 minutes to find a senior intern to check if the procedure was performed right. He was out, having lunch. Yeah it took me about half a day to get that tooth fixed but at least I didn't have to pay for it, nor was I charged for the antibiotics and the next appointment. Jah bless the NHS, proper healthcare is relative. The people in this country that complain about healthcare really need to cut the shit and get their teeth fixed.

A memorable night.

After a long hectic week of changes, challenges and new impressions it was time to unwind. After a quick pint with equally knackered friends in a hidden bar I got a call from my friend Saline, who's man Menno is doing a MA in Industrial Design at the Royal College of Art; apparently the RCA was the place to get pissed. And so I washed that knackeredness right out of my hair and hopped on the bus. The college is situated in Kensington, one of the richer and prettier parts of London. For a small female like myself it's a reasonably safe hood to walk alone in but two very well dressed big drunken blokes decided it wasn't safe for me to be walking alone. On my way to the RCA I stopped for a smoke and to look at the beautiful houses and suddenly these two men popped up. Without warning one started to shout at me. "Heyyy darling, where you from!?" "Not from around here..." "Alright!? Listen yeah, we are Cockneys, and we're not racists!" (Although I find it unnecessary, I think it's highly amusing when white people choose to explain and defend their racial motives for no particular reason, out of the blue.) "Good for you man." "Oi, listen yeah, we have nothing against you lot, our best friends are black people yeah!" "Cool." "You don't believe us, do you!" "Yeah, I d.." "Don't worry love, we'll take you where you need to be." And so they taught me about cockney rhyming slang and the definition of 'real' pubs while walking me all the way to Hyde Park. Who says London ain't a safe place? After I arrived, Menno showed me around the college. All students have their own working space and they have an incredible private outdoor lounging zone. Yesterday was the first Friday of the academic year, hence a good reason for prospect and 2nd year students to get together. The festivity took place in their common room house, (LOL)DJs with familiar and not so familiar tastes in choons and copious amounts of booze and other substances were present and I was surrounded by numerous artists, designers and students. I met a few Dutchies; Katrien, from Gelrop of all places (Eindhoven de gekstuh) a (graphic) industrial design student who explained to me why the RCA is mostly suitable for engineers and a complete letdown for designers and Emile, a director who like me went to the HKU, who did some videos for C-mon&Kypski and Pete Philly. He's been broke in London for 3 months and we both agreed that coming to London during this 'financiele kutsituatie' perhaps wasn't the best decision, but a challenge all the same. (I'm receiving grants and loans from the Dutch government and the Euro is doing rather well, so I suppose I'm not doing too bad.) And then there were the 'locals'; Simon, a half/Filipino-Bristol boy, also an Industrial design student who explained to me the difference between studying graphic design at London College of Communication, where he graduated and doing the course at Central Saint Martins and Freddy, a funny, all-loathing northern fine artist that made me, a co-hater, look like little goody-two shoes. As the evening progressed and the beer kept flowing I started forgetting the names of people I met. But it was all good, I swerved from one conversation to another and everyone seemed to be in the same state of mind. Generally, it seems that with all the people I've spoken so far I share the same opinions about London as a home, a creative catalyst, an abomination and a blessing. No one's ever denied that London is a two faced city, it brings out the worst and the best in us like no other city can. But we know why we're here and what we're doing it for and last night made me feel at home in London just a little bit more. 

Central Saint Martins

w00t, I'm officially a student (again). I enrolled at Saint Martins yesterday. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!!!  It was also the first time I entered the gorgeous building but didn't get to see much of it, I was so overwhelmed by everything and everyone and things just went so fast. I arrived, showed some papers, signed some forms, registered and had a chat with Murray, the Registrar, who I never met before but with whom I had telephone/email conversations throughout the year, he turned out to be a total darling. It was nice to finally put faces to names. After I paid my fees I sat down with a black female course administrator to finalize the process. And as she looked for my IDcard she whispered "It's nice to see another person of color enrolling in the graphic design course..." Completely flustered, I stared at her and said "Pardon?" She repeated herself in an even more secretive way and I didn't really know what to say to that, so I mumbled "Ehrm ok, yeah so how many ehrm, people of color have enrolled in this course? Not that it makes a difference though." She shrugged and answered "In the past few years perhaps three or four..." Not knowing if I was slightly shocked by her answer or just the fact that I was having this conversation, I said "So, what does that say about the course, or this college for that matter?" She smiled and answered "Well, maybe it means that black people ain't really that interested in graphic design." I laughed and said "Ha, that's bullocks and you know it." (I can't believe I said that to a stranger, out loud anyway.) She smiled, looked me straight in the eye and said "You and me are going to have a little chat later on, sister..." I suppose things can only get more interesting. Either way. I'm finally there, I'm ready for it, another new chapter commences. 

Work.

My first job in London. Internet/sales/image/layout-slave at Cordings Ltd; a small shop right off the Picadilly tube on the corner of Picadilly and Air Street that sells 'Traditional British Clothing Since 1839'. (which includes shooting gear, suits, shirts, socks, hats, canes, overcoats, waistcoats, breeks, Bryn Parry illustrated books about sex in the country, cufflinks in the shape of cartridges, etc.) My boss Noll, who was kind enough to offer me the job attempts to run a tight ship but I reckon it's his PA and his 7 headed (international) miracle working staff that keep this madhouse running. Coincidentally, everyone who works here speaks at least 2 languages. Customers vary from members of the British Royal Family, to rediculously minted housewives, to bitter&angry highrollers, to actors, to hunters, to rappers (they're quite fond of the socks), to silly cunts that 'would like to speak to Eric Clapton' (as he co-owns the place). I sent a parcell to Claptons house once but haven't yet had the pleasure to actually meet him. (I was told he occasionally drops by for cups of tea.) Two other random facts: 1. That fabulous tall skinny Chinese gayboy from 'How To Look Good Naked' took a peep inside the other day. 2. I've lived in New Zealand for 1,5 years but had to fly all the way to London to finally see a flippin possum. Ok, it was dead but still. I was exploring the stockroom the other day and there it was, standing in the middle of the path, starin at me with that post-mortem look in it's eye. I'm not really into killing animals for the sake of killing them, I really do disapprove of it and somehow find it an unPC company to work for, nevertheless I had a very interesting time here. My Cording days are coming to an end though. I might end up doing part-time imagery/layout work for them but uni's starting next week so I'll see how I'll go. I'll really miss this place, I've had some great and not so great customers, learned some new tricks and met some bizarre people.

The London Design Festival 13-23 Sept 2008.

I've had several reasons to come to London and festivals like the LDF was one of them :) 11 days packed with 128 in- and outdoor exhibitions, installations and 48 talks spread over London covering Architecture, Graphic Design, Industrial Design, Interior Design, Digital Design, Environmental Design, Cultural Design, Fashion Design, Crafts, Music, Photography, MA shows, Workshops, Future&Design and many more.  It just so happens to that I have a daytime job and my dear parents coming over this weekend; I have very little time to visit the exhibitions I want to see, but I am determined to see some. Most of them are free, some of them are not. To all of you who've missed out this year or are planning on doing the LDF in 2009; plan ahead, get the guide well in advance, get yourselves on mailing lists and pre-register on websites. It'll save you £10 entrance fees, you can get free books and gain access to exclusive master-classes and invitees-only exhibits. For me, it's a good excuse to see more of London and explore the wide range of design, it's a way of getting prepared for uni. 

I'm blessed with good friends, most of them are bright and creative individuals.  But for several years I've felt dissatisfied. There was an attitude present that enabled 'creatives' to claim (out loud) that they do the thing they do because they know what they want and know who they are. For some reason I find it so presumptious. I've known some creatives who're are good at what they do but have been doing the same shit for years on end. They call it their signature, I call lack of growth. You know, it's all good... until they start criticizing someone else's work and subliminally try to force upon others the delusion that they have more knowledge and bigger balls. Once I found myself getting on that train of thought I knew it was time to move on for real. Do you know how you're backstabbing your ability to create by doing the same thing time after time? Getting bigged up for doing a nifty trick 100 times in a row? Whatever. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy they're happy, (you know, at the end of the day somebody's gotta be happy about something or we'd all be eating each others heads off) and I consider myself far from super creative and talented, but these questions keep burning in the back of my head... Are we dreading the thought of looking at what's happening outside our creative comfort-zones? Are we afraid of being surrounded by smarter opponents? Are we secretly scared of the fact that we MIGHT be exposed once we venture into the dark unknown? Perhaps I'm taking it too personal, maybe I bitch too much (I know I do), maybe I go over this stuff in my head way too much and maybe I should just shut the fuck up and let people do whatever they do for whatever reason they're doing it... but I believe that true originality, creativity and art (which ofcourse is in the eye of the beholder) do not just derive from talent but also from experimenting, striving to do better and a reasonable amount of pain and agony. Spiritual and creative growth never stops and contemporary knowledge of self is never sufficient... ANYWAY, to cut a long story short, I'm going to see these exhibitions to drench myself in other people's visions, to find out where I stand, what it is I lack, what I could do better, what I could be good at and perhaps I'll find out more about what I don't want. And maybe I won't find anything... but it's definitely worth a shot. 

The fact that the UK is going through a recession won't go unnoticed, the challenges it brings are food for thought. From what I've heard, read and been told about design over the past year is that there have been debates about profound changes in economic conditions. This years LDF has it's focus on these debates. Grant Gibson, this years LDF editor on the recession: 

"Earlier this year I was invited to the opening to a set of new rooms at a young persons' cancer unit at Queen Elizabeth's Hospital in Birmingham. The project had started many months before with a series of workshop days including the ward's patients. Following this the young, London-based practice Two Create designed three new spaces: a kitchen-cum-dining area, a library, and another room where the patients can relax. While obviously done on a budget, the new interventions felt youthful and contemporary and, importantly, never patronized their occupants. The opening, held in one of the hospital's waiting rooms, was hardly glamourous - consisting of orange juice and butties rather than champagne and canapes - but as the ward's head nurse spoke to thank everyone involved in the scheme and visibly choked as she talked about her patients, the emotion was palpable. And at that moment I remembered that design really can profoundly affect people's lives. The sector has enormous power. Sometimes you feel it just needs to be reminded how to use it properly. And perhaps that's the greatest favor a recession could perform."

For more information visit: http://www.londondesignfestival.com

A gorgeous installation set up at one of my favorite places of London; Southbank. Here's a( selective) list of events of which each I would've visited if it wasn't for obligations. They're definitely worth checking out, schedules and timetables on website.

The Arts Gallery - University of the Arts London

Spin - the art or record

An exhibition examining the art of record cover.

Central St. Martins College of Art and Design

Up all night

Annual showcase of post-graduate design work from CSM.

Create Berlin

Create Berlin goes London

Show presents the 20 best interdisciplinary projects on the thought about the city's allure after the fall of the Wall.

Gallery Fumi

Materialsm

Work by emerging designers who adopt innovative and refreshing ways of working with  variety of materials.

Viaduct

Touch & Reflect

T&R uses fabric, shape and shine to underline the importance of different materials in furniture design.

Centre for British African Carribean Studies

True Story - One Story

A journey focused on a group (BACs) engaged in redesigning their lives and identities. Ancient wisdom becomes innovative, as traditions are adapted to meet the challanges of the world today.

Heard Gallery

Young Guns - a gradate showcase competition.

An 8 week competition or new graduates to showcase their work

Standard Life

Roar!

An art and design exhibition, Top art and design gradates from Schotland's artschools.

Chaplins Furniture

Scubism by Nigel Coates

'scubism avoids coordination for it's own sake I combines miscievous imagination and traditional skills...'

Chelsea College of Art and Design

Steve Thomas: Big Biba and other stories

Steve Thomas' brand-identities for some of the biggest international names.

Flower Council of Holland (I'm an orchidophile)

Double Dutch -  A feast of flowers

Schemes from Dutch designers and curators that show how flowers can give design a new dimension.

Helen Hamlyn Center, Royal College of Art

Living Proof

This exhibition points to a more human-centered design future: an expo of research-led design project.

PM Galery&House

Bottom Drawers

The expo aims to look at why we colect the things we do and why objects become important to our lives, often with a value that goes beoynd their monetary worth. It aims to be about the feelings we attach to objects

University of Brighton, 

360° - Charting New territory in Sustainable Design Education

The title says it all.

The Mayor's Thames Festival 2008...

... Just another excuse to bust out the breakdancers and free oriental food platters. Apart from the London Design Festival kicking off that day, I wasn't really aware of what was happening and as I got off the tube there were suddenly hundreds of people blocking my path; eating, buying, doing and looking at all kinds of stuff. Boris even gave permission to use the 10m2 of 'beach' *cough* by the Festival Pier to create a festive atmosphere. The weather was brilliant, the food was excellent (mostly because some of it was free) and even though it was packed, no-one acted like they were caught up in a gridlockd-congestion-shitstorm at 6.00 PM on a Thursday evening. London... naturally.

See, I told you I wasn't gonna live in a box.

My house; a breakfast room, a kitchen, a freaky little cubbyroom hidden underneath the breakfast room that the owner of the house had built for her 13-year old son whom she lovingly calls 'her little sausage', my small bedroom and my small empty studio. (I'm still very patiently waiting for my flippin boxes to be released from the sodding Rotterdamn Harbour.) There are 3 other rooms in this house and they're yet to be occupied by tenants. My agency had this funny idea that the rooms should be let for £130 per week, plus bills. Hmmmyeah uhuh. Like that's ever going to happen with the Credit Crunch slowly but surely taking it's toll. The kind of people the agency is aiming for cannot be arsed living in this part of town anyway. If it wasn't for the deal I made with the owner of the house I wouldn't be living here, not for that kind of money anyway. I live in Peckham Rye, a pretty ghettoass neighborhood (and a place everybody seems to dislike) in South East London. I really do love living in this part of London, but that's another story. This house is the exception to the rule tho; it's hidden behind two gates, by a Georgian semi-green courtyard with palmtrees and a picknick table where no-one's supposed to throw parties as several gnomes were bashed last year. Oh, the audacity.

Dear everyone...

Right. I got requests to keep you up to date and so I've set up this blog to tell you about my ventures, fuckups and experiences. And perhaps in the future I'll spill a thing or two about my whereabouts and academic achievements, after all I did move to London to get a degree. I'll see where this ranting page leads to and how long it'll last. It's much easier than sending emails and making phone calls or sending texts with a creditless phone. Either way I'll try not to neglect you like I did when I lived in New Zealand. So, I suppose that now that the blog stands, it's official; I really live in London. (Or maybe it's a sign that I finally have noteworthy things to tell you, who knows.)Thank you all so much for the enthusiastic emails that I got from you. A girl needs to know who her true friends are! Just kidding, even though I have completely fallen in love with London (again), none of you are forgotten. Moving to London was my next big mini-step. Luckily, so far everything has been going well, however your kind words are much appreciated and really have contributed to settling in here. Take care, I'll be ranting soon.