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Sarah Larnach

Sarah Larnach


Last Updated: 11/17/2009

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Gender: Female
Status: Single
Age: 99
Sign: Gemini

City: Kings Cross, Sydney
State: New South Wales
Country: AU
Signup Date: 10/11/2004

Blog Archive
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Friday, May 22, 2009 
"help raise money for the Parkinsons Society of NZ by bidding on this ultra rare handpainted Ladyhawke 7 inch: "

http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=170334216123

Yup, so I painted a series of one-off 7" covers for Ladyhawke. Each one has a dinosaur on it...there's a painting on ebay right now; it is being sold to raise money for the Parkinsons Society of NZ which is a jolly good cause.

Please take a look and make a bid if you dig it.

xx Sarah
Wednesday, March 25, 2009 
The smell of milk chocolate makes my stomach turn. Don't even mention the rancid butter scent of cakes. My friend who shares this aversion, pointed out that cocoa butter moisturiser smells like milk, and now I cant stand that either.


If vegan is my wife, then we've recently renewed our vows.
I'm sorry for cheating on you with those slutty eggs, baby.


Sunday, February 22, 2009 

Current mood:Reflective
Once, I earned a Diploma of Visual Arts from RMIT in Melbourne. Around graduation time I applied to study drawing at VCA, also in Melbourne, but they turned me down. Bummer. I also applied to study sound art and animation at RMIT university. When I missed that interview due to a hangover, the good dudes there called me to arrange another time cause they really did want to meet, and I did get into that course.
But then, I put it all aside and went and worked in a record shop for a year instead.
I think it has all worked out ok.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008 

Current mood:  excited




Nobody Told Me There’d Be Days Like These is the debut collection of short stories from Sydney-
based writer Amanda Maxwell with illustrations by Sarah Larnach, published by Serps Press.





The stories and illustrations explore teen years - the fuzzy boundaries between youth andadulthood, friendship and romance, independence and loneliness and the simple, yet inescapablebinary of happiness and sorrow. The stories are written with a fragile awareness; they have a pre-
loved and lived in weight to them and are as much about preservation as they are aboutobservation.





The illustrations are inspired by each story, but are made personal by Larnach’s obsession with
teenage hero worship and fan-art, which allows her to somehow transform the iconic into thedelicate. Most of the illustrations reference well-known photographs or images by contemporaryphotographers and film-makers.





The stories in Nobody Told Me There’d Be Days Like These are set across Australia, New Zealand
and America, but will appeal to anyone from anywhere who is, or remembers what it was like to be,
young.






“The deal is these pieces are personal, broken, fragile; the voice we hear is pure and searching,
heat dazed and salty-haired soulful. Amanda Maxwell’s work makes life fun and serious with a coyand humorous tenderness. Unique and clean, it feels like pillow talk with a stranger. You read itand find it rustling in your ears for days afterwards.”





Robert Cook [Associate Curator, Art Gallery of Western Australia]





“My best friend is Sarah Larnach. She's a kiwi too. She lives in Sydney though. Sarah's anincredible artist. I think she’s a brilliant talent.”





Ladyhawke [Musician]





The Collaborators:





Amanda Maxwell and Sarah Larnach are both from New Zealand but
met and became friends in Vancouver while living there in the early2000s. They now live on different floors of the same building in KingsCross, Sydney. They love ripped jeans, Roxy Music and swimming inthe ocean.





Nobody Told Me There’d Be Days Like These came together as anatural collaboration between the friends/neighbours, as neitherMaxwell or Larnach believe they ever really lost their own teen spirit.
They had previously been working together on story/illustrationcombos for Won Magazine.






Contact:




Serps Press



info@serpspress.com






“It was one of those moments when it seems like your life is going to change for the better and thefuture is an exciting place. I guess those moments are part of growing up, because I rememberhaving a few of them before that day, but none since.”



From the story ‘Golden Hour’







Friday, September 19, 2008 
Sunday, September 16, 2007 
I was feeling suckfull, walking around in the spring sunshine and trying to shop my way happy, but its hard to shop when you hate everything. (i believe that hard-to-shake teen-attitude-problem is why casual aquaintences and bouncers question my maturity) (the following account may also account for their opinion).
So, lazy and hungover, my pal Amanda and I stopped to sit on a park bench in the fashion district of Paddington, Sydney, where I noticed a pair of beautiful kookaburras sitting side by side, beak to beak, on the bow of a budding tree.
Although generally hating on spring, and all it represents...babies, couples...life, I couldn't help but exclaim (loud) (and tactless in public), "OH, LOOK AT THE CUTE KOOKABURRAS IN LOVE!"
And it wasn't just Amanda who turned to look where I was pointing at the cute birdies, the negative space between their fluffy native bodies making a post-card worthy love-heart, but other shoppers in the street too. When, with timing that couldn't have been more worthy of a titty-flick, the dude kookaburra jumped the lady kookaburra, bit onto her pretty neck-feathers, and pounded that fluffy tail from here to 'Kingdom Cum'(the '87 film also known as 'Bikini Traffic School IV: Salt Lake City Titty' .
Damn! I was hollering and cheering on Dude Bird, and I'm not sude if Amanda was laughing with me, with emabarrassment, or laughing at the other dude in the street who thought nature chicka-bow-bow was as entertaining as we did.
I don't think it even needs to be said that I gave up on shopping-for-happiness just then, focused on the fact that my day-time pursuits were satisfactorily complete and observed that it was now time to look towards the evenings entertainment.Getting boozed, for instance.
A little over 24 hours later, sitting down to a hearty Sunday Night Dinner; THREE dips and crackers, i stumbled onto the most amazing peice of documentary filming I have ever (this week at least) seen on TV. Turns out that a piece called "The Sex Lives Of Elephants" would more appropriatly been titled "The incredible HANDiwork Of Americas
Most Successful and Prolific Large Mammal Rub'n'Tug Specialist".
Scene One: Norweigan ex-pat Zoologist walks into an Elepahnt enclosure with what appears to be an Ikea milking stool.
hmmm, those dips may be turning on me. or maybe I'm even making myself feel awkward now.
Well, about that documentary, perhaps the less said, the better. But I WILL say just this- I will sleep happy and smirking tonight, knowing that im scientifically and visually aware of the sweat involved in the coaxing of Elephants, White Rhino's
and Whales to give up their dude-juice.
Saturday, July 21, 2007 

I live in the most densly populated area of Australia. Today I only talked to two people face-to-face. One was my librarian "I cant check those big books..." She said, motioning to her broken-arm-in-sling and looking around for the other librarian. I assume I replied something like "OK", but its possible i just smiled at her. The other was a blabbermouth who sold me two sourdough bread rolls at the market outside my apartment early this morning.

I am an Urban Hermit.

Last night I went to see my friends band play. He specifically went to the trouble of asking me, and the venue is under two minutes walk away, so I thought it sounded like a damn good idea. I hung out at home til the last possible minute, and then trotted over to the venue, dodging tourists (anyone who took a cab or train here) along the way.  At venue, relaxed, beer in hand, I watched the band. Awesome. I loved it. But then, my beer was empty... the band was over so I had nothing to look at. Thought I oughtta wait a bit before passing on my praise to earlier mentioned friend. Hmmmm.

(Now dont misunderstand the attitude of this urban hermit- I don't mind rolling solo. I'm getting pretty good at it. If im at a loss for contact I can pick out the drunkest person in the bar and I'm guaranteed that they have enough lack-of-inhibition for the both of us) But last night I found myself thinking "I can loiter around here...or...i can go home and finish that bottle of wine, and roll back here in a jiffy- tipsy and with a few pennies saved for my efforts, and no one will be the wiser.")

So, off  home I snuck. Down a back alley, avoiding the bar where more folks I knew were, and home to my sweet apartment where warm wine and...msn messenger..awaited.

Needless to say, home is where I stayed. Fuck going back outside to join the shreiking chicken heads and fluro boys, when i could be at home with cyberspace, JTV, MTV and my telephone, amongst other things. Hell, I pretty much live in a house-arrest themed amusement park.

Not a loser. Urban Hermit.