Landfall, Autumn, 2006; The Roads Ahead (Tindal Street Press, Birmingham) 2009 ____ “Is she blonde?” “No.” “What colour’s her hair?” “Black.” “Oh well, she might like to dye her hair later.” Hugh smiled. “Does she speak English?” “As far as we are aware she doesn’t speak at all.” “Oh.” Hugh […]
Megan Dunn
96 posts
____ On Friday I saw a unicorn in the shopping mall, its mane flickering beneath the florescent lights. The unicorn was drinking from the wishing fountain. Gold coins glittered on the bottom like teeth. I flung in a fifty-cent piece and then the unicorn appeared, lapping the water with its […]
In 1992 I lived at number 81 with two hippies, one cat and an abundance of large rats that were rarely seen but knew how to shake the fridge in the dark. The rats were fed on the compost heap the hippies kept at the back of the garden, a […]
___ On the last day of our trip we came around a corner and there it was, spread out before us like a mirror set into the grass, its surface covered in a carpet of water-lilies. A curved wooden bridge arced over the pond like something out of a Monet. […]
Auckland Art Gallery News, 2004 ___ A collective gulp accompanied the announcement of the winner of the first Walters Prize two years ago. Harald Szeemann chose fledgling photographer Yvonne Todd because her work was “the most irritating”. Todd rode the wave of stardom, producing four new bodies of work in […]
Landfall 205, Autumn 2003 ___ Her bones are at the bottom of the ocean They are very quiet Beautiful white bones with sandy hair stretching out into infinity Her real hair is gone Strand by dandelion strand it floated away There was a time When translucent fish nibbled on […]
Landfall 205, Autumn 2003 ___ High School taught me that blonde is the colour of bitch. Thanks for that year of torment in 1989 Libby and Elizabeth I’ll never forget your Two sets of owl-like eyes Your pastel tongued-cruelty Your thin dissolving smiles And as for you Fleur […]
Pavement, No.51, February/March 2003 ___ Experiencing my first Yvonne Todd exhibition was like being haunted by the ghost of my own depraved adolescence. 1998’s Fleshtone revelled in the seedy sexuality and misguided glamour of Todd’s Takapuna teenage years. “I used to wear a hot pink leather miniskirt, over-the-knee suede […]
Pavement Issue 57, February/March 2003 ___ “My drawings of snakes don’t even look like snakes,” shrugs Francis Upritchard. This is not quite true. On a piece of white paper, a lumpy blue outline coils into an impressive portrait of a carpet snake – the fat frumpy kind made to lie […]
Turbine, 2003 ___ There was always something a bit wanton about My Little Ponies. Their curvy plastic bodies, the colour of vibrators and slut flavoured eye shadow, ‘midnight mauve’, ‘blow job blue’, and ‘you know you want to cherry red’. They had painted on doe eyes and glitter stuck to their cheap […]
Broadsheet 3, Agenda Poetry, 2003 ___ I came to your house brick driveway full of sand the sea a black glove that reached for the shore seagulls hungry henchmen in the cold. “No plants grow here”, said the glass house. I was put in the mauve room. black cat […]
Pavement, April/May 2001 (Issue 46, page 26) _____ An inherently melancholy mood pervades Michael Harrison’s latest exhibition I’ve Got This Friend. This feeling is captured by peculiar personifications of Harrison’s pet subject: the cat. Harrison’s cats are an intriguing continuation of his interest in the mysterious nature of attraction. The formerly […]