The Impossible Place

NYCC

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 12 Sep 2012 01:53:00 +0000

Almost time to fly
We have a table a NYCC
Seeya soon Big Apple

Soundtrack to Impossible Girl 2

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 29 Aug 2012 22:23:00 +0000

Soon

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 21 Jul 2012 03:12:00 +0000

Studio IMP 24

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 02:11:00 +0000

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Not quite ready to get back on the horse but we are thinking about it...
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Studio IMP 23

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

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64 page Zine
Limited edition of 80
The Impossible Place presents - Miscreants No.1
Signed and numbered
Email us if you want one
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Studio IMP 22 - Gin soaked

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 04:34:00 +0000

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Gin soaking a page of text prior to scanning and incorporating into our next publication
The Impossible Place
Miscreants 1.
It's a 68 page wonder sketchbook incorporating images and some random text.
Check it out at Supanova Brisbane (4 - 6 November 2011).
http://www.supanova.com.au/
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Studio IMP 21 - Doe

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 06:06:00 +0000

In the city the concrete hurts my feet. Thousands of purposeful little steps but my stride lost. These things on my head grow, they weigh me down, make me less agile. Perhaps they are in my head, grown inward like roots. I listened to every word … who was I to doubt it was the truth? But maybe it was always a myth, a Cinderella fantasy. But if I can picture it mustn’t it be there?

Studio IMP 20

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 02 Oct 2011 00:29:00 +0000

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The theme of this post is 'it's not just because we're slack asses'.

Justification? Possibly... but aside from the fact that we have been super busy in our day jobs and personal life we've also been burning some time considering where we want to take The Impossible Place from here. It's an evolutionary phase.

So for the moment we are focusing on putting new publications together. We haven't completely given up on the work-in-progress idea of the blog and may decide to go back to it at some point. But in the mean time, we'll be using the blog for more random posts, rough drawings and musings such as this, and of course, information about the new publications and at which Cons you can find us!

Thanks for your support and if you ever feel like chatting - come see me on Twitter @IMPGirl
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Sketchbook - 25

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 04:52:00 +0000

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Thanks for all the support in Sydney
These are some new images perhaps for our next publication
See ya soon (well soonish)

Title - 19

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 04:48:00 +0000

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Studio IMP 19

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 00:13:00 +0000

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I'll be hand painting these for you in Sydney. See you there.

Studio IMP 18 - More Supanova

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 00:44:00 +0000

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We haven't been as prolific with the posts as we would have liked, but lots going on behind the scenes.

Wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who bought copies of The Impossible Girl 1 at Supanova Brisbane and Melbourne. We were very humbled by some of the wonderful comments and awesome feedback.

All of the book buyers from Bris and Melb Supanova went into the draw for the original IGirl painting - we drew it randomly in May and the painting has since found its way to the winner's home - congrats Candace from the Gold Coast who bought a book in Brisbane.

In other news we will be attending Supanova Sydney next weekend (18 - 19 June) as well!

So if you're going to be at Sydney Supanova please come and visit us!

Chris is able to attend Sydney Supanova thanks to the support of his RADF grant. The Regional Arts Development Fund is a Queensland Government through Arts Queensland and Logan City Council partnership to support local arts and culture.
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Impossible Girl - 41

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 27 May 2011 04:35:00 +0000

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The apartment felt violated. A chemical residue lingered in the air and the cushions on the couch were in the wrong spot. Put in place by someone who didn’t know where they belonged.

She opened her wardrobe and imagined gloved hands touching her clothes, checking the pockets and lining, looking for clues… evidence of wrongdoing.

The Impossible Girl sat on the bed and kicked off her heels. What the f&*k was she going to do?

A bottle of duty free vodka was sitting on the top of her luggage so she unscrewed the cap and took a swig. It took about a millimetre of the edge off. She wondered if Rowan had anything stronger in his special guitar case but then remembered the police search. Detective B*#chface would definitely have mentioned it if they had found anything illegal in the place. The blue fairies? There had been almost a full box and the prescription was legal but a quick search told her they too were gone.

She took another swig of the vodka and sat back down. Thinking of the fairies made her think of her own need. Something had changed since the night with Marc and Belle. The urge was gone. Indefinitely? The Impossible Girl had no idea what was going on but her skin had been fabulous all week and there was no itch, no climbing the walls feeling of emptiness.

From day four of Tokyo Fashion Week she had been preparing for the compulsion to strike, but it never did. Two and a half years on and the disease just disappeared? She hadn’t been able to bring herself to believe it and the thought of the long haul flight made her nervous. On her last night in Tokyo the Impossible Girl had returned the advances of a drunk Japanese male model.

They ended up in her room. He was surprised but also excited when instead of fellating him, she had punctured his inner thigh and sipped from a plump vein beside his scrotum. She’d kicked him out soon after dick in hand. He probably thought she was a freak but it didn’t matter, his lips were sealed. He was engaged to be married to a very lovely girl from a prestigious family.

Had it even been necessary? What the hell was happening? She wanted the truth and she wanted Rowan but it didn’t look like either of them was coming home to her. All she had was a litre of duty free vodka and even that was now half gone. A fat tear rolled down the Impossible Girl’s cheek. She got up to brush her teeth and gurgled with another shot.

Her phone rang just as she fell into bed.

‘Mmmmmm..’

‘It’s me…. God you sound f*#ked up’
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Sketchbook - 24

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 03 May 2011 01:28:00 +0000

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Impossible Girl - 40

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 04:54:00 +0000

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Arriving home to a sh*#storm
Conversation # IG (IGirl) DB (Detective Beekhuyzen) DD (Detective Daniels)

DB: Do you want a coffee? We got you a coffee. Are you comfortable?

IG: Of course I’m not comfortable.

DD: We understand you have been in Japan for the last nine days?

IG: What’s going on? Am I accused of something?

DD: When was the last time you spoke to your boyfriend?

IG: I want to know why I’m sitting in this room instead of in a taxi on my way home.

DB: Your apartment has been searched.

IG: What? DB: Detective Daniels?

DD: A search warrant was issued as part of our investigation.

IG: What investigation?

DD: A woman’s body has been found. She was last seen getting into a taxi with your boyfriend. Items of interest were collected from your apartment.

IG: Wha.. who is she?

DD: We’re not at liberty to divulge that information.

DB: Do you know how to contact Rowan Bark?

IG: No! He’s not answering his mobile.. if he’s not in the apartment I don’t…

DB: Are you aware of your boyfriend’s fetish for spiking and sucking blood from his sexual partners?

IG: I want a lawyer.

DB: We simply want you to co-operate in our investigation.

IG: Rowan is into a lot of things Detective but he wouldn’t kill anybody!

DD: What about you? Are you into the same things?

IG: F&%^ this, I want a lawyer!

DB: Can you give us any information pertaining to the whereabouts of Rowan Bark?

IG: I haven’t spoken to him for a week! God what if something has happened to him?

DB: We’re as keen to locate him as you are. When exactly did you last speak to him?

IG: It… it was late, after my show opened on the 6th.

DD: He called to congratulate you? IG: Not exactly… kind of.

DD: Which was it?

IG: We had a fight ok.

DB: Was he very angry?

IG: I’m not saying any more until I get a lawyer.

DB: No need. You can go. IG: What about my apartment?

DB: It’s been secured. We don’t consider it a crime scene at this time. If you have any concerns you can contact my office.

IG: So that’s it?

DB: For the moment. If you hear from Rowan notify us immediately. Likewise if you plan on leaving the city for any length of time. Here’s my card.

DD: One more thing. We’ll be making a statement to the media later in the day. Rowan’s name will be released as a person wanted for questioning pertaining to the case.
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Studio IMP 17

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 29 Mar 2011 09:28:00 +0000

Supanova Brisbane - 1st to 3rd of April and Melbourne - 8th - 10th of April. I'll be hand painting these for the fans.

Studio IMP 16 - Supanova

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 05:16:00 +0000

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We've been a bit slacko on the posts lately... super busy... but that brings me to point of this post - Supanova.

Chris and I have an artist table at Supanova Brisbane - 1st to 3rd of April and Melbourne - 8th - 10th of April. We will have books available for sale, each book will come with an IGirl art print (if you've bought a book already, bring your book and come see us, we'll give you a print - promise!). Plus each sale will receive an entry into our competition to win an original artwork. There will be some artwork on display and for sale plus Chris will have some portfolio drawings, not for sale but for a squiz if you're interested! We'd love to see you there! Tickets for both events are on sale now... of course it's not just us you're coming to see;) Check out the Supanova website!
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Brooklyn Half - 6

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 05:12:00 +0000

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Brook crawled out her window and onto the fire escape. A cold breeze and a wailing siren drifted towards her. Anger had replaced her fear and now exhaustion replaced her anger. She looked out over the lower east side street and hoped the cold would clear her mind. Still, she felt haunted and watched. She couldn’t avoid the feeling that there was something out there... something that was looking and waiting for her. She pulled up the bandage over her ears and felt the ugly stiches. More tears fell and dried on her face and an image of her mother flicked into her head. She thought about what Shaun had said. Could it really be her?

‘It’s not your mother,’ sounded in her mind.

The fire escape began to reverberate. She turned around to see who was coming down.

‘Woouff, woouff’

‘Get that thing Toro’

‘Reeeowwwwwn…..Hissssss’

Mrs Simpkins hairless cat landed on her leg, clawed up her shirt and clung to her chest and shoulder.

Ahhh, F!@#!

Benji from number four and his Great Dane thundered down next, taking the stairs two at a time. Fluffy sheltered against her, tensely clawing her skin as they stormed past.

‘Hey kid’ he said.

‘Jeez Benji,’ she muttered.

‘That cat is one ugly little critter isn’t it?’

He didn’t wait for her response and Brook was left trying to prise the cat off her shoulder.

‘Reee hisss’ the cat spat after them

‘Ahhh, Fluffy you bitch get off.’

She sat back down unplucking its claws and placing it on the stair beside her.

It sat quite still and calm now

She put her hand under her shirt feeling the welts.

‘Ignorance is the greatest ugliness’

She sat quietly stunned. It was as if she had thought the words rather than heard them. They were in her head, but the words were not her own. She looked about frantically.

‘IGNORANCE’ the word resonated in her head like a gong.

She looked down at the cat now and it fixed her with a steady gaze, as if it was reading her reaction. She’d flipped. Without a doubt. Brook shut her eyes as tightly as she could and counted to twenty in a panic. When she opened them again the cat was still sitting beside her, looking patiently up at her.

“He is ignorant. You are ignorant.”

Sane people probably ignored it when a cat spoke to them. Brook thought this was the best approach.

‘And it’s not your mother.’

It was looking right at her. Skinny and bald with absurdly large ears and it was reading her mind and communicating with her.

‘What you see is a cat. To believe only what you see is ignorant.’

‘This isn’t happening, I’m not listening’ It was all Brook could think of to say, she was losing her mind. It was being taken away from her.

‘What is mind? Where can it go? Is it a possession? How can it be lost? How can it be taken?’

‘You’re Mrs Simpkins cat Fluffy; you’ve lived across the hall for as many years as I can remember.’ And now she was arguing with it. Jesus.

‘So certain of that which you are uncertain.’

‘Cats can’t talk.’

‘Exactly, and since we are communicating now your own rational deduction would suggest the truth, that I’m not a cat.’

Brook looked down at the cat and realized, however f*#ked up, the little critter had a point.

‘Rational deduction would suggest I’m a fruitloop.’

‘Human deduction would suggest that. And you are only half, Brooklyn. It will take a while to explain and it is now necessary that I do.’
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Deather's Eight Reprise

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 15 Jan 2011 06:47:00 +0000

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I don't feel comfortable talking to you

Unless you got the zipper fixed on my shoe
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Impossible Girl - 39

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 10:08:00 +0000

‘Good afternoon Ma’am, I’m Detective Beekhuyzen and this is Detective Daniels of the New South Wales Crime Squad. We need to ask you a few questions. If you would just follow us please.’

The Impossible Girl hadn’t expected a reception at the customs exit. She’d deliberately avoided telling anyone her change of flight details, especially Roly - brand manager, leak pimp & PR genius extraordinaire. Privacy and the space to think, outside of the craziness and pressures of work, was what she desperately wanted.

And she definitely hadn’t expected a reception like the one she was getting. Two plain clothes detectives, badges hanging in the pockets of bad suits, addressing her by her legal name.

‘What? I don’t have anything to declare.’

This isn’t a customs issue Ma’am. If you’d just like to come with us.’

‘I don’t understand. Is something wrong, is someone hurt?’ The Impossible Girl was shaking.

‘We just need to ask you a few questions, probably best if we do that in private hey?’

She followed the detective’s gaze to a girl standing with her back to the carousel, holding her iPhone up to them. Shit.

‘What about my luggage? I can’t understand why I wasn’t phoned.’ She checked her messages as she said it, just a text from Roly, nothing about the police.

‘Someone will collect your luggage.’ It was the first time the female detective had spoken, she had her eyes on IGirl’s mobile, looking like a cat ready to pounce.

‘Is Rowan alright?’ It didn’t add up, if Rowan had been hurt someone would have called her, but, Oh God, maybe they knew about… maybe someone had…

‘As far as we know yes, but we should discuss this in the station. Shall we?’

The Impossible Girl allowed herself to be led away. She kept her head low and her hand up as the girl who had obviously recognized her continued to video.

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Brooklyn Half - 5

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 10 Jan 2011 08:32:00 +0000

Even on the crowded street Brook was afraid. Her shadow took on elongated shapes, like a monster poised to attack but when she turned to look there was nothing. Nothing but lower east side New Yorkers going about their business. If there was something after her it was biding it’s time, awaiting its opportunity.

She was two hundred metres from the apartment block when her nerves cracked and she burst into a sprint, pounding the pavement until she reached her front door. As she pushed her way through the buildings entrance she felt a chill, like the touch of an ice cold hand across her back. But the door closed firmly behind her and remained shut.

Still, as she stared at the brass deadlock she could have sworn there was someone or something on the other side staring just as intently.

Adrenaline launched her up the stairs and into the apartment in record time. Back to the door, her heart pounded for the waiting minutes until the fear subsided, until she was sure no one had followed.

Judd wasn’t in the lounge or kitchen. On the carpet beside the couch was an open bottle of whiskey, three quarters gone. It hadn’t been part of the décor when she left.

Great, she thought, her fear boiling into raw anger, if Hollow legs the social worker decides to drop in now I’ll be in a foster home quicker than Judd could down the rest of the bottle.

She found him in his studio, mixing paint on a new canvas. He was in his old painting shorts and flip flops. His face slack from the alcohol but his eyes burning with that obsessive fever he always got.

‘Hey babycakes,’ he said when he saw her standing there. ‘How was your afternoon?’

Brook wanted to scream at him that she was losing her mind, being chased around Manhattan by monsters and that she needed him to be sober, to be anything but what he was. She was never very good at saying how she felt though.

‘Apparently not as fun as your's,’ Brook said, holding up the bottle she had carried into the studio with her.

‘I’m working honey, I’m just having a couple of looseners.’ He was drunk enough to be defensive, not drunk enough to be contrite.

‘Well I doubt Mrs Holloway would see it like that if she was here.’ Brook struggled to hold back the tears for the second time that day.

‘You don’t understand. This…’ he pointed to his painting then, ‘this is for you, I need to do this…. to protect you.’

To protect her? He has no idea, she thought.

‘And how do you expect to protect me when I’m in a foster home!’

The bottle dropped out of her hand and rolled across the floor. Judd followed it with his eyes as if willing it not to break. He cared more about the stupid whiskey than he did about her. She stormed out of the studio, slamming the door behind her.
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Deather's Eight

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 10 Jan 2011 06:58:00 +0000

So Ted Nugent you’re the hottest offworld sportstar playing the hippest, deadliest game on Mars. The women of all three worlds want you. You’ve got teenage girls panting and screaming for you and young boys and men idolizing you. What do you say to your fans?

Uh… Hi, I guess

You had a lucrative career as a federation pro-ball player back on Earth, the Lunar colony allegedly put six figures on the table for you to play golf with them but instead you chose to abandon it all and go play Deather's Eight on Mars. Why?

Uh… Sam, you know I don’t really think about things that way

Well Ted most people would say that walking out on the death fields of Mars with an eight ball is madness. Especially if you have options, I mean most Deathers players are generations in debt and just trying to win their lives back, but you..?

Well I got nothing but respect for those folk who walk out on the fields with me whatever their reasons. But I don’t know… I guess it’s about freedom.

Yeah yadda, yadda, yadda. Tell us about those shoes?
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Title 18

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 10 Jan 2011 06:53:00 +0000

Sketchbook - 23

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 00:09:00 +0000

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Michael Moorcock's Corum
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Impossible Girl - 38

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 06:10:00 +0000

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You have to talk to me eventually
Conversation #IG (IGirl) #RBVM (Rowan Bark Voice Mail)

RBVM: It’s Rowan. Leave a message and maybe I’ll get back to you.
IG: It’s me again… I guess you’re not getting back to me…
IG: I know you’re angry but we need to talk…
IG: I’m ringing back… Please pick up…
BEEP
RBVM: It’s Rowan. Leave a message and maybe I’ll get back to you.
IG: F*&k Rowan… don’t do this to me…
IG: You have to believe I didn’t know… I still don’t… but I want to… I want to know what’s going on. Don’t you?
IG: You have to talk to me eventually…
IG: My flight gets in Monday morning, please be home.
BEEP
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For the Impossible Girl label Tokyo Fashion Week 2010 was a phenomenal success. Big time pay dirt according to Roly. Orders and opportunities were flocking in from all over the globe. Another year of this and they could start shopping for real estate in the Seychelles… hardly but still it was good, very good.

People were finally taking her seriously. She wasn’t just an eccentric ex-model pimping for the limelight with her exhibitionist behaviour, her collection spoke for itself. She should be ecstatic, sharing her success with Roly and the girls, not trudging along alone in her gutters of self doubt and misery.

The streets of Tokyo, normally so vibrant and alive, felt stale and dead to her now. Her retail therapy had achieved nothing, glossy bags of vintage Jun Takahashi hung from her fingers and, nothing. Even the people were cold. It was as if they could see through to the core of her shame and they wore their disgust like a shroud. A young Harajuku couple broke off their kissing and returned her stare. Everything she looked at was an ominous reminder of the night with Mark and Belle. Their blood...

With eyes down the Impossible Girl didn’t see the boy until she had ploughed right into him on the busy Shibuya street. She mumbled ‘Gomennasai’ and was on the move again when his words struck her from behind like a stake.

‘Nukekubi, Nukekubi Kono Ama!’

Where had she heard those words before? It came to her with a chill, Belle crouched above her, blood dripping from her chin as she grinned and uttered that exact phrase.

Vampire, You Vampire Bitch.

When she turned around the boy was just a head in a sea of pedestrians. His insult apparently nothing more than the outburst of an angry teen.

But by the time she closed her hotel room door she was in tears. Every molecule in her body screamed at her to get out. She needed to get back home… would it still be there for her?
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