Lucinda says her Shrek obsession made her realise "the happiest moments of my year have been the times when I've retreated to things I enjoyed when I was five".
Archive with images.
Images supplied: Instagram @frooomes
Archive with images.
Shrek has been on my mind since May. I can pinpoint the exact night it started.
It was the 13th and I was mindlessly scrolling on my phone, avoiding going to sleep. You know that mood where you're simultaneously so bored and so tired that everything is hilarious?
I was in one of those moods. And when I'm in one, I channel my energy into Instagram stories.
I had a swipe through the filters and found one that would alter the course of the following five months of my life.
It was a filter that transformed you into a digital Shrek, standing outside his fabled log house.
Naturally, I recorded the greatest rendition of Mike Myers's green ogre I could manage.
I posted it on a whim and the response was overwhelming. My followers lapped it up like Donkey at an all-you-can-eat waffle buffet. I was totally Shrek'd.
Not long after I had to begin a two-week bedroom jail sentence after an ill-timed trip to my local cafe where a staffer had contracted COVID.
The pandemic had f**ked me in lots of ways. It stopped me from visiting my dad when he got cancer, stripped my work and removed any chance I had of getting laid this side of 2022. But I'd never been so close to the belly of the beast and it was a thrill.
Staring down the barrel of a shitfully boring two weeks of self-isolation (and the beginning of months of lockdown in Sydney), I knew I'd have to find a way to entertain myself. I knew I'd be forced to look within.
And when I did, all I saw was Shrek.
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I bought some art supplies and got to work creating a portfolio of Shrek-based illustrations.
My first piece depicted an uncharacteristically ripped Shrek, seated alfresco and dripping in swag. The typically irate ogre was overjoyed as a grand oak tree showered him in $100 bills.
He was eating a cheeseburger with fries and coke and relishing his freedom. He was doing all the things I couldn't.
I decided to ramp up the stakes for the next piece. I wanted to explore a new medium so a friend dropped off an old Penthouse magazine. Inspired in no small part by my sexual frustration, I created this NSFW piece.
The two weeks in isolation passed, as did the impulse to Shrekcercise my demons. But then August rolled around and with it came tighter restrictions. My mind began wandering back to the swamp.
I bought a pair of bootleg Shrek ears online for $29. I threw down another $35 on green paint. The rest was history.
Actual paid work was thin on the ground at this point but I had to get a return on investment for the ears.
A 'day in the life' of Shrek was in order.
It was at this point that my friends and family began expressing concern. Was I actually OK? Had the joke gone a little too far? Was my green face a cry for help?
Little did they know, I was yet to hit rock bottom.
The real low point came a few nights later. What could be worse than painting yourself green and stuffing a pillow down the front of your yoghurt-stained nightgown?
Going on The Voice as Shrek. It proved one thing — spending extended periods of time inside the house is not good for your mental health.
And like all moments of hardship, it inspired me to create the greatest piece of art this lockdown season.
Basically, this experience has made me realise the happiest moments of my year have been the times when I've retreated to things I enjoyed when I was five.
Like drawing, eating McDonalds and imitating Shrek.
Now get out of my log house!
Images supplied: Instagram @frooomes
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