Father's change nappies too. True Story.

One time when I was younger, a man who was unstable came into the church where I was sitting and started to swear at me and verbally attack me. Near by a man (who I knew) just sat and watched smiling uncomfortably.

I was holding my baby brother and the man was kind of big so I just sat there and occasionally defended my rights (not really in a very productive way 'I can look at who I want to look at' for example, wasn't a helpful thing to say) until someone who heard the rukus went and found my dad who took the man aside and told him in a firm voice that "that b!tch" was his daughter and could he please leave the building (where he told him some other things...)

And I was glad that my father was there, and glad that I could see him defend me. No one else was and it was wonderfully reassuring to know that he would always be on my side. I still remember how it felt to know that someone cared about me enough to confront someone to defend me  (My dad is awesome)

I promise this is relevant.

Today is Kyle's birthday.

He's at home editing his most recent film project which means that we have been able to spend the day together and so off we went to get haircuts and eat lunch and play at play grounds (I even took photos)

And we had to change the baby's nappy. It happens.

The sign on the door said "baby changing room" and we walked in behind two women talking very loudly about something which they obviously didn't mind us hearing about (or they wouldn't have continued talking so loudly surely) and we changed the baby.
As they came out of the toilets one of the women started to say (just as loudly) that she was sure men weren't allowed in there as 'hearing women piss' is just wrong and couldn't he have stayed outside, and I'm going to check because I think it's completely wrong and sick and at that point I turned around and said:
"IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT US, SAY IT TO US!"

... And then I said a few other things... which might have included "if you have a problem with men hearing you go to the toilet then go to the ladies room, it says baby changing room on the door -  I don't see your baby!" And the woman I was talking to backed away.

We walked out later and saw a council worker who told us that the women had spoken to him about it all and he had told him the same thing that I had. Go to the ladies bathroom if you want there to only be ladies around you.

Kyle had been ignoring the women's conversation entirely so he was surprised that I had snapped at them, and I know that if he had heard what they had been saying he would have said something himself - but just so you know Ky. I've got your back. I'm on your side. Even though I get a bit shaky and emotional when I have to do things like that and even though I stay all riled up about it for the whole rest of the day (and post blogs about it).

I'll confront people (even though it's pretty beyond my comfort zone) to defend you - and your right to use a room designated for people caring for babies and children.

You can use the baby changing room... you know... TO CHANGE THE BABY. 

Happy Birthday.


Apologies for the awkwardly compiled photos. The boys didn't all fit in the photo because Ronin was way below table level. In other news good on you Boost and Salsa for giving free things to customers on their birthday. Don't rate the burrito but at least no money was wasted in figuring out that they aren't that good.

 Gabe blowing bubbles (he thinks it's so cool... it's so gross) while Kyle gets his hair cut. I spoke to the hairdresser in Mandarin and she didn't understand me (devastating) but it was only because she didn't expect it from me (phew!) after that she understood everything I said. Crisis averted.

 Blurry :( 

These days

"It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing and there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. Right? And this bag was just dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. That's the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things, and this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can't take it, and my heart is just going to cave in."

- American Beauty

There are times when I feel like I have missed my calling. Like I should have been a writer or a photographer, or a film maker - though I am not very good at any of these things.

Sometimes there is just so much beauty in the world. So many small moments that create such a fabudonkyulous world that I feel like there should be some way of recording them. Of possessing that beauty. Memory seems inadequate at those times.

I find my artistic skills just as inadequate at imparting those feelings, and I'm not really a poet (despite my enduring love for the haiku) and as you may have noticed from what I have shared with you on this blog - photography is still outside of my skill set.

I feel like my body fills up with so much feeling, and I am so incapable of expressing it, that I just sit around feeling emotional, and inadequate. Moments like these are given to us to make something out of them, I am convinced, otherwise why would we have them? Inspiration to creation.

 One of my favourite bloggers  writers said this:

"I get so damn tired of feelings sometimes, the way they crash over you, threaten to drown you, and then slowly recede, leaving you wet and stinking and covered in seaweed. I think that in my next life I'm going to come back as a robot that's incapable of feeling obligation or regret. I think that that would be nice."

I guess that is what is means to be human, and even more so what it means to be suffer from mental illness, though I don't feel that us 'touched' folk have the monopoly on intense emotions.
All I know is that I adore this side of the coin. The feelings before the plug gets pulled from the bath and you slowly get heavier and heavier, and colder and colder. The joy of beautifully real things. The pretentious feelings that make people film paper bags dancing in the wind.

My work is small and certainly not profound by any definition of the word, but I want you to know that I have aspirations. That my work, especially the things I do for myself, are my way of trying to tie up and own a tiny part of why I think that the world is lovely, and hopefully share that with you.

Don't get me wrong. Life is dangerous and awful too, and that makes me just as emotional - and I make art then too... even more than when I am absorbed by the beauty ... 

I am glad that Ky is studying film, I hope that he gets to share his vision with everyone of the worlds in his mind. I am glad that there are people out there who can write the way I wish I could and film and photograph moments that reflect the feelings that I have.

Like this guy.



We Were Wanderers On A Prehistoric Earth from James W Griffiths on Vimeo.


I never intended this blog post to be as ... emo (?) as it turned out.
Editing it now seems disingenuous so I won't.

On Beauty (and death)

I drew this in 2007.
I posted it on deviantart and there it has lived for all the time from then to now.  I have typed the smaller text below so that you can read it. It makes the whole story more understandable.

This is a true story.
It happened long long time before I drew it.

BECAUSE DAWN IS VERY SAD...

HER DAUGHTER HADN'T COME BACK IN THE MORNING

IT WAS LIKE GROWN-UP COT DEATH

SHE WAS LOST

SHE DIDN'T KNOW THE WAY HOME

SHE WAS LOST

For a really long time she was my ideal for what beautiful was.
I would lay really still in my bed with my hands on my chest and hope that I looked as beautiful as she was.