Author:Alina B

WAKING TO DREAM

June 6
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It was just another frosty morning, lying in bed under layers of doona warmed up by body heat and distraction, as I lost hours submerging digitally into a new portal.

Scrolling, pulling in and caressing my eyes was a visual feast called LEXI LAND and her portrayal of a stark and subliminally wonderful universe.

Having taken some distance from those haunting scenes, I muse at how to convey those esoteric visions via words, especially when she has a better run of elucidating on those images herself:

“Optical dreamer your windows are open, the electronic sensors with their crystalline lenses, are drinking the light! Open – shut – open… the backs of your lids are drawn to paint the darkness. Your visual cortex flies like a ghost through your skull, it has always been free… no bone can contain the invisible. Your celestial spark spirals on silken threads, it is in the company of dreams, it sews delicately and without effort through the great unknown.Your axis – like the horizon can not be found, objects are a mirage that bind” —Lexi Land

That was, for instance her beautiful ode to the eyes and the unknown.

HIT PLAY >> Surreal as the Day They Found Me, Lexi Land

Further quotations from Rilke, Duchamp and Kahlo pepper her feed as way of narrating her art, that creative medicine and existential urge that carries little regard for where it’s heading beyond its impulsive expression.

More gorgeous verse, by way of explanation.

The figure comes into ‘being’ like the seed of a wild vine desperate to breathe… it pushes up gasping for air, it coils and dances around the trunk of an ancient tree, swallowing each moment, it grows until it reaches the endless sky” —Lexi Land

“In a trance, my hand becomes like breath, life-force quivers through me, I am moved by the vibration of an unseen whisper… art for me is like the night, dark and spacious… when day breaks, the light reveals what was always there. The unknown – becomes known and will forever remain unknown.” —Lexi Land

Lexi Land is a 30-ish imp, with a compelling yet delicate presence, offset by wide, deep eyes and a girlish body that appears frequently on her well-scrolled Instagram feed.

To Lexi, her body is the ultimate creative vessel, a carnal resource to be used to shape story or translate feeling, instinctively bending and exposing itself to a demiurgic trance. She unmasks with masks, distorting and projecting, cutting her own moving image from video footage and setting it to impulsive-psychotic sound recordings. Guttural reverberations grow and explode as we witness what seems to be a multitude of births, the artist’s raw and arresting schizophrenic vision building to morph into something holistic, precise and profound.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The Architecture of a Fleeting Moment, Lexi Land.

I wonder, does she ever feel vulnerable or self-conscious exposing herself both physically and emotionally in ode to her art?

“No, I’ve never had that,” comes the assured explanation. “I’m looking in and sharing that inward experience – the best way to describe what I’m trying to say, comes from an interview with René Magritte in which he said:

‘that is to say… I try to live, life itself, as if it were a work of art!’ — Magritte

BODY TALK

March 27

There’s a visceral truth that I’ve been running from for a good 3 years.

After some tumultuous months with my new husband, it dawned on me that my approach of arguing for my ‘truth’ and forcibly justifying my position was all wrong. Rather than reasoning and deflecting as my usual way of avoiding emotional confrontation, a wiser and indeed, more seemly tactic was to actually allow the gravity of our argument to consume me; then navigate my response from there.

Let’s rewind.

WORLDS OTHER THAN MY OWN

December 20
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When I was in my 20s, I drowned in the abyss  of my own spirituality. The physical world wasn’t delivering on its hedonistic promise and my attempts to claim a guy or look more f***able dimmed in comparison with my more astute and glamorous social rivals.  Thus, esoteric work brimmed with possibility, a solace from rejection and a frontier into a world much vaster than my own. Shamanism, energy grids or chanting ancient Sanskrit hymns and Goddess invocations were ‘the keys to the kingdom’, a palace of enlightenment from which I hoped to return ‘home’ more electric and awake.

THE GLITTERARI: LILY DUFFY

December 12

When I spend time with Lily Duffy, I want to escape to the forest, skinny dip in a creek and cast out my wishes to a star-lit sky – because Lily is a woman for whom serendipity just happens and you can’t help but be swept away into her magical and colourful Universe. While other artists toil away and pay their dues in endless market stalls or exhibitions before some buy-in occurs, Duffy’s emerging art career appears to have happened entirely by accident.

THE HOUSE HUNTER

December 11
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Adler Ho makes going after a million dollar listing seem as effortless as ordering a coffee (or his beloved Pinot Gris). The fresh-faced Sydney businessman has amassed quite a following in Hong Kong, where his amusing plastic bobblehead cheerfully adorns the desks of more prestigious players. Ho suddenly counts CEOs and high powered executives among his network – so how did this boy from Sydney’s North Shore break into Asia’s property and finance elite?