In life, as in art, the beautiful moves in curves.

Art Deco lives (although I’d argue that it was more a case of Art Moderne. Sandy Bay, April 2011.

Sunday and no church to visit AGAIN. Oh well, I’ll have to console myself with another Sunday Top Five.

This time I’m venturing back to the heady world of architecture, more specifically, (In No Particular Order And Off The Top Of My Head) My Top Five Favourite Architectural Movements Since The Beginning Of The Twentieth Century!

Googie: yeah, yeah… I know. Forgive me, but The Jetsens was very influential to an impressionable lad. A very American form, features of Googie include upswept roofs, curvaceous, geometric shapes, and daring use of glass, steel and neon. Think Googie, think Space Age.

Art Moderne: a common feature of Burnie, Art Moderne is a late type of the Art Deco design style that emphasised curving forms, long horizontal lines, and sometimes nautical elements.

Brutalist: in what will be a controversial choice for many. Whatever. I happen to like much of the Brutalism that flourished from the ‘50s to the mid-70s. Brutalist buildings usually have bold and repetitive angular geometries, and are generally made of concrete. You’ll find no shortage of these around, although they’re starting to knock them over…

Deconstructivism: a response to modern straight lines, deconstructivism embraces ideas of fragmentation and manipulates a structure's surface, using non-rectilinear shapes to distort and dislocate key elements of a building. This style brings unpredictability to buildings, and I like the notion of ‘controlled chaos’. I for one blame the French.

Blobitecture: the new kid on the block. Who doesn’t like a blob? Blobitecture refers to buildings that have an organic, amoeba-shaped, bulging form. Liberated by computer software, architects now experiment with this "blobby" design to create forms. It’s not hit Tasmania yet, but we spotted a few of these beauties when we were in Melbourne.

Mad as hell

So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

This will hurt me...

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