The Grace Riggir Spell.

My first reactions of possibly the most charismatic person (perhaps I will ever meet) hit instantly.
Grace held an amazing confidence while blinding anybody that came near with a set of pearly whites, which on every encounter since appear along with a instantly likeable opening liner about everything that she had been doing. Having a semi below-par day a few Fridays ago, Auckland central bringing a depressing monsoon, car horns bumper to bumper, grey suits camouflaged against grey office buildings and not a peachy faced to be seen. It was a real shitter, a few steps later I caught sight of a leafy green umbrella skipping happily to the beat of raindrops falling above a frizzled black head.

I found a white teethed, black dressed Grace hidden, smiling a cool little smile, Happily unaware of any rainstorm above her. For fifteen minutes she untangled the most ridiculous story I have ever heard about awkwardness, what ifs and coincidence. Her face changing only from the brightest smile to otherworldly laughs, causing ripples in coffee drinkers glasses. She is the T-rex of laughter. Like a small child, I was cast under yet another Riggir spell and once saying goodbye my grey winter mood was not only cured but I skipped home happily trying my best to repeat Graces joke to a dead silent audience. Grace is a demon on the stories she also happens to be finishing her third year at AUT in Fashion Textiles, much like Mikey Bullen I wondered what this humble little pixie had in store after?


What is your name, what do you do?
Grace mary Riggir-Cuddy But who for frequent difficulty with pronunciation has me named, simply Grace Riggir.

When did your love/interest for fashion begin?
My muma made a lot of my families clothes when we were kids, including a Von trap-esque uniform from the curtains in our lounge sooooooo from 4 or 5 i could essentially, design whatever i wanted (as long as it was conventional enough for simplicity sewing skills), I spent hours flicking through pattern books and exploring the aisles of Arther Toye for fabrics and trims to complete my latest vision! once you make your own clothes from an idea nothing is ever more you again....i guess.

What inspires you?
Tricky- my friends. Thoughts of romantics and paradoxically minimalist theories...Im to fickle. All sorts every three seconds or so.

What was a recent dreaming worth remembering?
cant say i can ever really remember my dreams- unless they mesh a little with my early morning thoughts nothing recently...

Song/Music that your into at present?
I have just discovered the record boxes of my estranged flatmate and am reminiscing with old flames.

How was your last three years of fashion been and what is next after graduation?
Its got increasingly crazier. I've learnt a lot and am now slowly chipping my way into or at least toward the fashion industry. Im now studying full time, working part time at WORLD, have an internship at in the workroom for RUBY, assisting the pr and brand manager and recently have become an intern for stylist karen Inderbitzn-waller - its all very exciting BUT who knows from here really.





Merci Mme Gracie!

Day Six: Michael Bullen

Michael use to be the type of guy I avoided, the type of guy I thought would live in the woods out west surviving on dead sheep and 1080 pellets, a real mountain man. These were my thoughts when first seeing him roam the AUT halls, my first weeks starting he would appear and reappear four or fives times a day. Paranoid, I thought he might be following me so I attempted to confront this issue, face on. I found him in the computer room a usual Thursday surrounded by a herd of Macs. He was trapped back against the wall as he typed away with one uncut black mop and two brown farmers boots.

One me, fifty Macs and Him.

I jabbed him on the shoulder with a stubby first year finger.
Twisting on his swivel seat, A thick black bearded face looked up tangled like gorse around a masked pale face, eyes looking up, he smiled a maniacs smile. I discovered he wasn't from the mountains, no maniac and really just a seriously funny Graphic Designer. Since then we have cracked a few jokes, drank and shared awkward stares but as his days at AUT start to wind down, I began to wonder what was next after graduation for Michael? I found him a year later in the computer room, Jabbing a slimmer second year finger I asked...


Tell us a little about yourself and what you do?
Well I was brought up in Papua New Guinea but since the age of four (and a half) I've called Auckland home. It was from a young age that I wanted to be an architect so I took subjects that related to this throughout school, and in 6th form I decided I actually wanted to pursue graphic design. So that brought me to AUT where I study graphic design, which is where I am currently situated. My spare time is generally spent on a leather chair in front of my computer creating vector art and music.

What are the plans after graduation this year?
Well I have a feeling the plans will depend on me being employed. So if I obtain a job, I will go wherever that takes me and if that doesn't work out I want to learn two languages and travel. I have been thinking about maybe doing post grad, but I don't think I will.

What are your thoughts on the art scene in Auckland?
I'm not really involved in the art scene, so I dont really have many thoughts about it. I like those power/electricity boxes that get painted, we need more art like that around the entire Auckland region.

How are you finding your last year of AUT?
When I get my end of year results I will let you know. Up to this point in time I have to say I enjoyed my first two years more, but I have had some good advice this year and this second semester should be interesting.

What is inspiration for you?
I think that everything I have ever experienced that my brain has managed to store would be my inspiration. Sounds like a really generic answer, but i think it would be hard to break inspiration down to a couple of occurrences.

Finally being a man of creativity can you tell me a story?
This is based on a true story. My cat took a dump outside my parents bedroom door the other night, and mother stood in it. Maturity level declining.

*Photography based on the idea of unused space.









http://theobeliskcooperative.tumblr.com/

Day Four: Kingsland

I knew I was in for a treat when his teeth began to fall out.

He was truly a stuttering shambles but behind the faded bluesy eyes and constant cryptic mumbles about his not so growing luscious hair patches, I found something interesting. Introduced to Murray when I started at my current job in Kingsland that not only treats me to minimum wage but Murray’s constant, friendly begging’s for a flat white every day and a glass of water to put his teeth in. He was a charmer (The James Dean of Kingsland some would say.)

I found Murray last Sunday sitting at the back of the café, hiding himself around empty flat white cups, finger marks evidence of a quick finish. Sitting there waiting and watching, his mind floated throughout the courtyard. Picking up the vessel wrapped around freshly cut fingers old eyes rolled slowly down in direction of what was in his hands, half empty blue eyes looking at a finished cup in surprise. Wrinkled road maps spread evenly over a tanned face. Small twitches tickling the sides of his mouth turning a calm face into an intense spasm, his mouth pulled to the back of his head like a bad joke and forced smile. Rolling a ciggie before we started he burned the rolled paper using his whole face to suck the life out of that tally in hope of attempting the impossible, gums clapping in applaud against a dry tongue he pulled out what was left on his fingertips and we were off; no questions needed, Murray was a season pro. Answering all queries without having to ask and within forty five short minutes, three flat whites and two rolled ciggies, I knew near 60 years of this mans life.

Raised out on the west countries of Auckland, he was brought up hard and the older of two brothers who can now be found in Australia as a tattoo artist. He left the countryside early and his brother behind, finding odd jobs until jumping the ditch. No doubt laying good memories within every bar he wished to place his beer matt and empty glass upon. Watching Murray thinking back on Australia, happily rehearsing the time spent, a stretched smile crept across, a slight twitch and then a larger smile remaining for a few moments.

Sailing back to Auckland to close out his memorable 20’s, employed soon as a mental health councillor for a handful of years. This is where my past memories of Murray were confused by my own imagination. Thinking this was the real Shutter Island patient; I swore he told me he worked in mental health, before they all finally turned wicked locking him in with his own patients for a few more dark years. Beautiful lies. Confronting the rumours Murray had lost memories about this café fib, so I lay it to rest.

Truth be told he was let go after having a few bad accidents, the most memorable falling off a 14 meter balcony in a flower bush then giving passerby’s red roses while waiting for the ambulance. (Even in his hour of need he kept a cool head.)

A wandering shadow for a few more years after the crash, Murray found his roots retiring in 1998 to Kingsland now living a simpler life mowing lawns while using his benefit money to pay for hard earned cigs and drink. His interests include playing the organ from time to time and touching his hair a lot, so if any ladies ranged between 40-99 happen to come across this blog get in touch and I can see what we can organise.







Drinks on you, always.