The Poetry of Banality

In an i-pod world everything has a sound track. A boy and a girl on bikes sweep soundlessly through the leafy campus at dusk as Kate Bush sings about a brown jug. I glance sideways during Love is a Battlefield and see a man blow drying a woman's hair as she sits under fluorescent light on an apartment balcony on St John's Road.

I'm on my way home to meet Ray Ellison the intercom man. There's a film and video artist talking on the radio. The interviewer asks him how he thinks of ideas and of course he can't say. Laughs. Eventually says he has a fascination with the poetry of banality. He has created a video installation which shows him repeatedly inflating and de-flating an air bed. He films cleaners and night workers through the windows of office buildings, cobbles together many of these films to fit the form of an actual multi-windowed building and then projects the film onto the real building. As part of the interview he gets to choose a song. It is I See Red by Split Enz. The interviewer asks why he chose that song. He says he sees red.

A boy on a bus asked Noonie if she was going to eat the flowers she was carrying. The tattoo does say perhaps.

Can we think of something more interesting than pitbulls and pigs wearing lipstick?