Georgia Lucy Slagz Gals
Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Galileo Galilei flirted with gravity, and now we measure this force in Gals. Gals Gals Gals! Heavy. Galileo also observed that we (Earth) move around the sun, a radical and heretical idea at the time because everyone knew the sun moved around us. Duh. Everyone is the centre of their world. Mercury and Uranus and all the other planets move around the sun too.
Galileo (Galileo), Galileo (Galileo), Galileo Figaro, magnifico
But sometimes I think we still live by that geocentric way. The Merc, the Sun, and Uranus, circling you and me. Like a sheep dog, a Koolie Kelpie cross, keeping you in your place. The daily news, circling. Doing the rounds. Telling you it’s like this. Showing you the side it wants. The Merc murked, and the path of heavenly bodies mocked.
Gals backwards is slag, unwanted shitty bits that float to the surface when you refine metal. Gal Slag is a palindrome. Georgia Lucy Slagz Gals written on the dunny walls at the Brisbane Hotel, heckling gravity. Slagz Gals is a palindrome too. Circles. And Dad is a palindrome. At the time of the exhibition his life was about to complete a circle of its own. A loopy hoop.
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Papier-mâché is French for chewed up paper. Murdoch is the medium. Galileo Chew Chew the news. Like a bird regurgitating old news to make new news for its chicks: ‘allofeeding’. An in the know show. So…
What’s the buzz? Tell me what’s a-happening!
What’s the buzz? Tell me what’s a-happening!
Did you know Jesus Christ Superstar was shot on the West Bank? Also in 1973 my dad played rugby union. He was part of a generation of Australians who condemned apartheid, and vowed to maintain sporting and economic sanctions against the South African regime. South Africa selected players based on the colour of their skin. Dad’s stance on this was as strong as his halfback heart and legs. He instilled this in me, and I know Australia had a backbone once because he told me so.
At the time of Galileo Chew Chew my dad was very sick with a condition called multiple system atrophy (MSA). His mind worked but his body betrayed him. He couldn’t come to the show even though he was the star. As artists we soak in the buzz around us and what we create from this is our way of making sense of a dirty dada world. It’s a broadcast of thought bubbles materialised.
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Hi, my name is Georgia Lucy. I still get my news from the Merc. I don’t have Facebook. I don’t have Instagram. Can’t we just meet chum to chum? You know smartphones make me look dumb. My thumbs type but the words that appear aren’t the ones I wrote. Is this a joke? I press send before checking because I trust what I typed was write (lol). I don’t have these platforms because I’m wary, unsure how I’d go tossing my 20c worth to the cloud, a wishing well in a warehouse. I imagine what I send up would rain back on me with gravity. I wouldn’t be ready and I’d get soggy and saturated in social sludge – I have an upside-down umbrella. I salute those who can function in the storm. There are two sides to every 20c coin.
So when Contemporary Art Tasmania (CAT) gave me the password to their Instagram account for the duration of the show (a whole month) I took this as an opportunity to flood the space with Galileo Chew Chew. I did what I needed to, but it was tricky because I got sucked in too. What I saw were pictures of Palestinians getting blown up. I watched them again and again. I didn’t see that in the Merc. I saw some accounts were censored due to their content. Gagged. Galileo Galilei was gagged too, forced to take back his views about how we orbit. He didn’t. This feeling came into the Instagram stories I was making for the show. The stories that are supposed to disappear after a day.
It felt strange sitting the gallery and showing my art while this was happening. Similar to how I felt making art while my dad was dying in another state. Inexpressible feelings. Underwater. A selfish shellfish clammed up. As I write this my dad is dead, and the Palestinian people are suffering still. I know because I saw it. I write this from the front desk of the CAT gallery. Six months ago I posted Instagram stories from the same spot.
Now that I know we are time travelling through space around the sun, I feel it’s my duty to show everything going on in my postcard, from all angles. As hot as it is.
Originally we asked a nipaluna hot chip reviewer on Instagram to provide input for this journal. They didn’t reply. Their profile picture is a seagull. Chip journaling is their limit; allofedup I guess. Enjoy this story, it is circular like the capital O for October. Where Instagram says it begins. Instagram says a lot of things.
– Georgia Lucy, 17/5/2024