Suzi Yammouni

Red Shoe Artist/Poet was a quiet child, and her Mother always wondered when that all changed. Born to Lebanese parents, somewhere in the suburbs of Melbourne, and schooled by people who didn’t get paid enough to really give a shit, she has been a sandwich maker, hairdresser, make up artist, nail technician, bank clerk, receptionist, retail guru, saleswoman, carer, cleaner, cook, friend, bassist, vagabond, poet, artist, vigilante, dreamer and classical guitarist, without mastering any of them.Her bed is her happy place, her book collection are her teachers, she likes her fingernails out of all her body parts and thinks that world peace could be solved if everybody just dropped their guns, went home and had a cup of tea. She writes in a house where pot plants go to die, she collects books, recipes, art supplies, notebooks and pens… lots and lots of pens. Her advice is simple; don’t lend your books out, drink coffee in a Sippy cup whilst driving, and comfortable shoes are the key to happiness. So far she has dated every emotionally stunted type of man, has no idea when she’ll marry and wishes less ambitious people would stop asking her, or at least point her in the right direction. She paints and draws daily, has a good idea weekly, pays her bills monthly, collects books perennially, and acts responsibly yearly. Her ambition in life is to crash into a fruit cart and come up smelling of strawberries.