If you are having or attending a Halloween party tonight, this clip features excellent tactics for dealing with party crashers.
If not, you can:
The Halloween costume of my dreams.
Peau D'Ane is a strange fairytale about a princess who disguises herself in a donkey hide. The movie is a culty, color-rich thing, and it stars Catherine Deneuve as the princess.
This costume at John Derian is based on the movie. If only it came in grown-up sizes ...
Image from here.
Witches Kitchen by Studio Tord Boontje for Artecnica.
Stanley Kubrick was inspired by the Arbus photograph when he created these two. Warning- this is not a clip for the squeamish.
... the fear of one's double goes back to even ancient civilizations, as Otto Rank reminds us in his essay, 'Der Doppelgaenger' (1914), where he points out that in ancient traditions and folk beliefs, the double was the first conception of the soul and was related to beliefs that the shadow was a second self ...
S. T. Joshi, Icons of Horror and the Supernatural: An Encyclopedia of Our Worst Nightmares. Page 193.
Greenwood Publishing Group, 2007
Diane Arbus. Identical Twins, Roselle, New Jersey, 1967.
Fetch (as defined in Brewer's Dictionary of Irish Phrase and Fable): a preternatural vision of a living person, usually seen by a relative or friend. If occurring in the morning the visitation was a sign that the person, whose doppelgänger it was, would have a long and prosperous life; if in the evening it was a portent of imminent death:
She only looked with a dead, dead eye,
And a wan, wan cheek of sorrow:
I knew her Fetch!--she was called to die,
And she died upon the morrow.
John Banim, (1798 - 1842); 'The Fetch' (1857)
(Irish ghost stories are excellent if you like to give yourself the creeps.)
Photos: Burfitt Autumn/Winter 2008 collection, via about some things.
Like one that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread ...
Coleridge, Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Part VI, lines 37-38
I am coveting 1940s - 1950s overalls. Ballyhoo Vintage has a pretty good selection. I especially love these (they were hacked off for work boots).
I'm hoping a pair reasonably close to my size turns up.
TouchtheDutch Double Axe Silhouette brooch by Anneke van Bommel.
Mothersvea recently reminded me how much I covet Wool & Water's jointed paper dolls. The woodcutter is my favorite.
Photo spotted here. I haven't been able to find any accreditation for it, but it's been a minor obsession of mine. It's the inspiration for today's posts.
Lizzie Borden took an axe,
And gave her mother forty whacks,
When she saw what she had done,
She gave her father forty-one.
Photo: Hatchet found in barn after the 1893 Borden murders, via this site.
.. and making pretty music while we do it. This video makes me want the snow. And a chainsaw.
Right now, I pretty much listen to this album at least once a day. It's wormed its way into my psyche.
This is the time of year when I usually receive a summons for Stick Day. Twice a year, spring and summer, the Madewell children and their associated friends and significant others are called to my parents house to spend an afternoon clearing the yard of sticks and leaves. As a reward for our labours, we are treated to a bonfire when dusk falls, and if we are particularly efficient, we can usually prevail on my dad to bring his guitar out and sing for us.
It's one of my favorite things to do, to sit in the friendly dark and see little charred bits of leaves consuming themselves as the streak up to the sky, smelling the damp burn out of the wood as it cracks and pops. Everything known becomes unknown and strange in the shadowy play of firelight, even well-loved faces. I'm always glad our dogs are there, glad of their watchful attention against the night, and glad to be surrounded by my family.
There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.
There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.
Bliss Carman
***
I'm off to follow my inner gypsy. See you tomorrow.
When the squirrels start to stockpile nuts, I start to stockpile books. I need a good stack against the long, dark winter. For me, buying books is tinged with a little superstition. I think the books I need to read find me at the right time, so browsing through ramshackle book sales and dusty used-book stores suits me well - I like finding what I didn't know I was looking for.
Today, I am wishing for a bigger city for my bookish peregrinations. I'm dreaming specifically of London, that city of amazing bookstores. I'd stay at Hazlitt's and admire their blue plaque before setting off here to scout first editions and here to look for artist's books. I'd visit Maggs Bros. and wish for more money and shelf space, then wander wherever the wind took me, up and down alleys, in and out of shops looking for hidden treasures until my pack was filled and it was time to head back to my cozy room and the pleasures of the unknown read.
I'm feeling tweedy and read-y today and this Paperbird jacket at Lark is calling my name - I love that rounded collar and those buttons.
I need to get into a more lucrative line of work.
Getting lost in a book sounds good to me today.
Polaroid by Franck Juery (originally seen here).
'I see drawing as thinking, as evidence of thinking, evidence of going from one place to another. The image is just sort a sort of armature on which I hang my marks and make my art."
Vija Celmins
Those photos reminded me of Celmins' drawing of Saturn (scanned from my copy of Drawing Modern: Works from the Agnes Gund Collection, page 27).
Drawing: Untitled (Saturn), 1979-1981. Graphite.
Quotation: from an interview with Chuck Close in Vija Celmins, A.R.T. Press, 1992, 14.
Photos of Saturn's tiny moon, Enceladus, taken by the Cassini orbiter.
Via The Big Picture. It's worth clicking over.
Look at this - an imaginary outfit made real by Erica. This made a good Saturday even better.
Her blog was one of the first ones I ever followed because she has an impeccable eye for great clothes, and her sensibility is close to mine. I was hooked from the first post I ever saw - it was about her amazing coat collection. Getting a small glimpse into what goes into her closet is one of my favorite things, and it always makes me rethink what goes into mine.
Bryce Dessner and Padma Newsome from The National have a side project called Clogs. I really like their stuff.
Harry Smith: Early Abstractions (1946 - 1957) - No. 5: Circular Tensions, Homage to Oskar Fischinger (1950) & No. 7: Color Study (1952). In addition to creating films, he also did this.
I saw this piece by James White on Ffffound - he made it with 'discarded color/shape studies from a client identity job'. It reminds me of tangrams.
Wish it would get added to his store.
I want to play with this.
Made smaller out of plain waxed paper, I think they would be beautiful snowflakes.
I love these letters by Marin Van Uhm. They look like layered tissue.
Via Ffffound.
I just saw this poster at It's Nice That - it's designed by Chris Sherron and it made me laugh. It's part of his series called 'beef' where 'taking a queue from hip hop culture, these posters were made to provoke attention towards an unacknowledged city by starting beef with well-known, prosperous cities in hopes to gain notoriety.'
Others include 'St. Louis will kill Berlin', 'Providence will kill Tokyo', and 'Buffalo will kill Paris'.
I'm pretty smitten with his site - this project, this photo of Cleveland, and this too:
I think I need to get my portrait in the shape of Ohio.
This apartment is one of the entries in Apartment Therapy's Fall Colors 2008 contest. It was put together by some youngsters fresh out of school with curbside and thrifted treasures. I like the little details - the old school desks, the chromatic books, the vintage chrome lamp, and even the butterfly - and I love that it feels creative and utilitarian:
Feels like a happy place. I hope they win!
That video inspired me to dog out my set of Colorforms. Maybe I'll make something like this.
Director: Niels Fyrst. Track: Modular Noia by Bjørn Svin.
Spotted at shape + colour.
I think it has to find you - or rather, you have to be still enough to realize that you have it.
Post title: Albert Camus. Photo from here.
Nora the Bean, doing one of the things she does best (besides eating carrots, chasing squirrels and being overly affectionate.)
I think I may follow her lead this afternoon, after I watch this again.
When I don't feel well, I like everything around me to be as soft and comfortable as possible. Right now, I am wishing that that the mailman would ring, and deliver a box with the things in this photo:
Double-sided flannel robe and slipper socks from Toast.
Hot water bottles became an addiction of mine after I studied abroad in Ireland. Nothing was better to chase the damp away than a lovely, warm hot water bottle tucked under the duvet. I'm hatching a plan to make some new covers for mine before winter starts in earnest, but this one at DWR is pretty nice if you aren't feeling crafty.
Tea truly has a little magic (particularly this kind). I'm devoted to my electric kettle, but this cheery Staub tea pot has such an unique shape that I'm tempted to add it to my hot-water repetoire.
I am suffering from a terrible, aggravating, I-feel-too-miserable-to-do-much-but-am-not-totally-incapacitated type of cold.
Blergh. I wish I could find a magic pill. Maybe these would work.
This photo is a detail from Damien Hirst's Lullaby Spring - one of his notorious medicine cabinets. This one had 6,136 individually painted pills and, for a time, was the most expensive piece of art by a living artist - $19M. Bananas. He has a good gig going on.
March to Take Back the Night tonight in Cleveland. Information here and here.
(Image via here.)
Twice, I have gotten to see Tibetan monks creating sand mandalas. The mandala is a simultaneous representation of the world in divine form, a roadmap to internal enlightenment, and a depiction of the mind and body in perfect balance. They are incredibly complex and take days of concentrated work, and the act of their creation is believed to purify and heal. This video gives a sense of how painstakingly they are constructed.
Once completed, the grains of sand are ritually swept up and cast back into waters so that the energy of the mandala is dispersed in the world and the impermanence of all earthly things is acknowledged.
I feel a strong emotional pull to these. For me, making something with my hands is an act of meditation - it's only in the concentration of doing that I can have a fully present mind unencumbered by distractions.
This is an early super-8 film by Cindy Sherman called 'Doll Clothes.'
Watch for the credits at the end.
Via Ubu (I can get lost there.)
Jeff Magnum showed up to play 'Engine' at the Elephant 6 Holiday Surprise Show.
Wow. Wow wow wow.
A short video on the photography of Denis Darzacq - he takes shots of people suspended in space.
Via swissmiss.
“To paint space, I owe it to myself to go there, to that very space… without illusions or tricks, nor with a plane or a parachute or a rocket ship: [the painter of space] must go there by his own means, with an independent individual force, in a word, he must be capable of levitation.”
Yves Klein
Photograph of a performance by Yves Klein at Rue Gentil-Bernard, Fontenay-aux-Roses, October 1960, by Harry Shunk. Le Saut dans le Vide (Leap into the Void).
One sticks one’s finger into the soil to tell by the smell in what land one is: I stick my finger in existence — it smells of nothing. Where am I? Who am I? How came I here? What is this thing called the world? What does this world mean? Who is it that has lured me into the world? Why was I not consulted, why not made acquainted with its manners and customs instead of throwing me into the ranks, as if I had been bought by a kidnapper, a dealer in souls? How did I obtain an interest in this big enterprise they call reality? Why should I have an interest in it? Is it not a voluntary concern? And if I am to be compelled to take part in it, where is the director? I should like to make a remark to him. Is there no director? Whither shall I turn with my complaint?
Søren Kierkegaard, Repetition. 1843.
Elsheba Khan at the grave of her son, Specialist Kareem Rashad Sultan Khan.
When Powell described this photo, I immediately knew what he was talking about. It was part of a photo essay by Platon in the Sept. 29th New Yorker.
I've had a hard time reading that issue. Those images arrest me every time, and I can't get past them.
'I'm also troubled by, not what Sen. McCain says, but what members of the party say, and it is permitted to be said such things as: "Well, you know that Mr. Obama is a Muslim." Well, the correct answer is: he is not a Muslim. He's a Christian. He's always been a Christian.
But the really right answer is: What if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer is: No, that's not America. Is there something wrong with some 7-year-old Muslim-American kid believing he or she can be President?
Yet I have heard senior members of my own party drop the suggestion: he's a Muslim, and he might be associated with terrorists. This is not the way we should be doing it in America.'
I saw Grant Lee Phillips back in the day, when he was Grant Lee Buffalo and before he resurfaced as the troubadour on Gilmore Girls.
Of course, nothing beats the original, but I'll do a day of old-school Cure when it gets good and November-y.
I like Jenny Lewis, but I love the Watson Twins. And you already know that this is possibly my all time favorite song, so together = total magic.
If I planned the best date ever, I would conjure a bar where the Watson Twins were the house torch singers, and they would end every night with this, and there would be slow dancing and scattered disco ball light.
Today: Cure covers.
A love story for you in honor of the made up holiday.
It's so adorable I can hardly stand it - much better than the day deserves, really. Did I mention it's in French? Love, love, love.
I need to find a leaf pile. Once sufficient jumping is accomplished, I might:
This lovely post made me think about having a day to drive through the countryside and admire the fall colors. We'd probably head out to Lake County, where Little Mountain would be a blur of red, orange, yellow and green. We'd drive down Sperry Road, past the Holden Arboretum and down the hill to the Chagrin River, where we'd pick one of the beautiful, clean framed houses tucked into the valley as our home of dreams. We'd have fun imagining the jamborees we'd host for family and friends in our back yard. After driving by the river, we'd loop back to Penitentiary Glen, and park the car for a picnic lunch of brie and apple sandwiches. Afterwards, we would take quick walk through the gorge to snap some photos, and then it would be time to head home for the comforts of a book and a late afternoon nap.
I know apple-mania is sweeping the world (and golly knows I'm thrilled that I can finally get Macouns) but if you are looking for an even more ephemeral fall taste, think Concord grapes. Their moment is almost over. If you get tired eating them fresh, try this. My mother and I spent most of Wednesday concocting some. It's stellar.
I really like stamps. I think playing with stamps as a kid led to my fascination with prints and repeats, and despite the plethora of appallingly cutesy mass-produced stamps flooding the world, every so often I stumble across one at the good old Michaels that I just love, like these trees.
We have some friends getting married this weekend and instead of getting them a colander, I decided to create stationary for them.
I kept it pretty simple and autumnal - I hope they like it.
While I was in the stamping mood, I decided to make myself some thank-you cards (very necessary after this week's celebrations.) I found a quote I loved and made a simple potato stamp heart. Making potato stamps is one of my favorite things to do. I wish I had some way to turn it into a lucrative career.
Each one came out a little different and wonky - hopefully it reads as charming wonky, not crazy-wonky.
Fun!
I have a fondness for leaves ... and jewelry is on my mind given that this is so close. I can't wait!
Leaf necklace @ contrary.
I have been craving a red dress ever since I clapped eyes on the Orchard House Dress by Elly Fales one by Wiksten. Sadly, it sold out in a nanosecond.
I just saw this one by Church and State at the Scoop. It's my runner-up ... I just have to figure out where I can buy it.
Works by Hilary Pecis. I love the mixture of pattern and color in these, and the crystalline forms and gems scattered about.
They are imaginary landscapes I would like to visit.
Via My Love For You Is A Stampede of Horses (I adore this site.)
Drusy Agate Link earrings by Melissa Joy Manning. Available at Adele.
I also love these.
Fish Schools by Wayne Levin. From doraballa-ommo by way of Ffffound.
the hollow light
is still on the fields
where the winter has warmed
and the snows have drained away
and the hunter's cry
is still on the air
as the bullet flies home
but the heart that's pierced with it
still is racing
still is racing, alone.
the silver shoals
of the light in the deep
brush the glittering skein
where the great, dark body writhes
and the trembling jaw
the unfathoming sounds
of leviathan, bound
as his heart, though weakening
still is racing
still is racing, alone
you are racing
you are racing,
alone.
Lyrics: Jonathan Meiburg
Last night, after a birthday dinner with my parents at the Grovewood, we went to the Beachland Tavern to see Shearwater. I had liked several songs of their that I had heard and thought they might be worth seeing live.
They were.
Their songs are like insistent, propulsive, idiosyncratic hymns with strange discordant sounds - a jacked up dulcimer, pieces of metal sounded by bows - woven into something simultaneously earthy and ethereal.
Jonathan Meiberg's voice is as transfixing as the words he writes. His face looks like one Elizabeth Peyton might paint.
I don't think there were even 30 people there. It felt like a stolen show - a gift. Something we should have had to share with more people.
I'm beyond inspired. Conviction, mastery, a clear aesthetic vision - resulting all together in the transcendent. I aspire to that in what I do.
It was a gorgeous night.
I would buy their CDs and give them three listens to sink in. And thank you all for the kind birthday wishes. It couldn't have been better.
I love this movie. This is the song that the little girl sings:
This little penny is to wish on
And make your wishes come true
This little penny is to dream on
Dream of all you can do
This little penny is a dancing penny
See how it glitters and it glows
Bright as a whistle
Light as a thistle
Quick, quick as a wink
Up on it's twinkling toes
This little penny is to laugh on
To see that tears never fall
This this little penny
Is the last little penny
And the most important of all
For this penny is to love on
And where love is, heaven is there
So with just five pennies, if they're these five pennies
You'll be a millionaire
For this penny is to love on
And where love is, heaven is there
So with just five pennies, if they're these five pennies
You'll be a millionaire.
So ... to quote the immortal Rachel Zoe, this outfit is bananas. Seriously bananas. You don't even want to know the price tag.
However, being as I am a believer in the power of unfettered imagination, and since you only get to turn thirty once, I threw caution to the wind (yet again) and assembled what I wish I was wearing as I head out to celebrate my birthday tonight. It's all about opulent textures - pointelle, ruffles, feathers, ribbons and patent - and glam, raw stone jewelry. I'd wear a crazy dress in a luscious shade of purple paired with an even more over-the-top feathered cape, and flats (because I get tired of teetering after a while). Once I was ready, Sean and I would go on my dream date - an after hours tour of the Art Museum, then dinner at our favorite place (which shall remain nameless.) Next, we'd head to the back room here to sit on the big leather couches and drink champagne, until it was time to go home and return to real life.
Maybe I'll have it all together in time for next year ...
I've been tagged by Jackaroo Love and Hello Gorgeous. One was for six random things, and the other was for seven. Strange facts required in total: 13.
Here we go.
# 1. This is the first book I ever read.
# 2. This is the last one I finished.
# 3. I wish I was three inches taller.
# 4. When I meet someone, I can tell within five minutes if we'll ever be friends.
# 5. I only drink coffee on special occasions.
# 6. I am and have always been a rabid Cleveland Browns fan.
# 7. I have to read something new every day, or my brain begins to shrivel.
# 8. I'm lucky. Proof here.
(and really ... listen to that song. It was one of my first posts when my mom and Sean were the only audience for this blog and I would post it again and again if I could get away with it.)
# 9. I am terrible at tag.
#10. I am excellent at cards. My grandpa taught me how to play.
#11. I would like to have three dogs.
#12. This is my spirit animal.
#13. Today is my 30th birthday.
Play along if you want. I'd never be able to catch you on my own - see #9.
If you need something to do, you can try to recreate these using your pocket change.
This was a public art installation created by Stefan Sagmeister as part of his Things I Have Learned in My Life So Far series, conceived in response to the Droog Urban Play Event.
250,000 eurocents were used to spell out 'obsessions make my life worse and my work better.' It had a short life:
'On Sunday morning we revisited the spot to see the results of the night, and when we reached the square we couldn't believe our eyes: All the coins were gone. Not one eurocent was left on the square. We were expecting everything, but not this fast and this complete. After the initial shock we found out the following: In the morning somebody showed up with a couple of plastic bags and started putting the coins into his bags. Apparently one of the neighbours saw this and thought this person is “stealing the artwork”, and called the police.
They showed up, talked to the guy with the bags, who had no problem with leaving everything right there. Somehow the police must have thought that is not enough to protect the artwork, and after trying to reach the owner of it, they decided to get into action themselves. They called a city cleaning company and cleaned up the whole square with brooms, and brought all the coins to a “safe” room at the police department.
So not more than 20 hours of completion of the work it was gone again already.'
A detail of the work in progress:
Amazing.
More photos here. Via TypeNeu.
These fellas are going to be playing a free show at Music Saves this Wednesday, Oct. 15.
Mark your calendars!
(Thanks for the head's up, Kelly + Jose!)
Things at a clothes swap: a dress form.
Clothes ...
... clothes ...
... and more clothes.
Some shoes ...
... and always snacks and flowers. I'm a big believer that good snacks are required for good parties, and that pretty flowers make everything better.
Just add guests and away you go.
I think everyone had a good time. I know I did. I got a vintage leather coat, an embroidered jacket that is very Built By Wendy, and a gorgeous vintage silk dress printed all over with fantail coral that looks like something Kate Spade herself would wear, plus a chance to catch up with some of the smartest, most interesting girls I know.
I can't wait until next year.
This year was the fifth clothes swap party I have hosted. I've had a lot of trial and error figuring out what exactly to wear, and what exactly to look for. On my permanent look-for list:
Every autumn I host a clothes swap party. I invite 10-15 women to bring all of their gently used/never-worn/unloved shoes, bags, accessories and clothes to my house, and I set everything up boutique-style. After some snacks and mingling, everyone sets off and goes shopping through everything to see what new treasures they can find.
One of my favorite parts is designing the invitation. This year, I drew a vintage dress form (a dear friend always lends me one for the party) and made little ensembles for it to wear on translucent paper (the texture reminded me of pattern-making paper). I scanned the originals, then printed them out on my dinky printer - the tracing paper nearly killed it, but I managed to get enough (you can see them in the first photo).
The invite portion was gocco-printed on a big manila tag, with the RSVP info on a smaller one - RSVP was stamped on the front with some old letterpress blocks. The tags were safety-pinned together, then clipped with the cardstock dress form and 4 or 5 outfits and tied in a neat little bundle with a piece of string.
Everything was sent off in kraft paper envelopes at the dead of night (I did make a midnight post office run - I love that the post office is open late!)
The inspiration was this quote:
The hope was that my guests would have fun adorning their invite, and then themselves.
In part two: photos!
... you can still have fun this weekend:
Denyse Schmidt Obama Quilt Fundraiser. Donate $10 and get a chance to win.
I love this more ways that I can count.
From Heather Ross via Lena Corwin.
Also - a smaller stitched piece of political flair. Spotted at Orange Beautiful/The Scoop.
It was instant love when I spotted this organizer at Ali Loves Curtis.
I also got inspiration for a new project. Now, to find fabric. Maybe felt ...
Color Wheel by Narangar Glover. From the Paint by Needle series.
Originally at Dear Ada. Via Ffffound.
Detail:
I have a lot of things to do tonight, but if I didn't, I would be headed to the Cinematheque to watch puzzling french films in hard-backed wooden seats. After having our minds sufficiently clouded with thoughts of existentialism and the destructive corroding power of the bourgeoisie, we would gladly retreat to Bar Cento, where we would eat the best fries in the city and drink lots of red wine, trying to make sense of it all. I'd have a cozy sweater against the chill, and a pair of killer boots that would strike admiration and awe into the heart of all that I met.
PS: This is the last post of the day for me ... I have too many things to do and am stopping my ears against the siren call of the interweb. See you tomorrow.
Two or Three Things I Know About Her is screening tonight and Saturday.
If you go tonight, you could get free pizza at Bar Cento afterwards. Really truly.*
* They are celebrating their one year anniversary and when you buy the house wine or a carafe of beer, you get a traditional pizza for free. Pretty nice! Movie + dinner - what more do you need?
This makes me think of Robert Heinlein.
I think part of the reason this country is in such a mess is specialization - too many people operating only in their own narrowly constructed parameters, without a thought or inkling of any larger reality. Insects, indeed.
Photo from Ffffound.
I like it quite simply because it acknowledges their awareness of the idea of practice rather than production ... It's relatively easy to stumble around making a successful work now and again, sandwiched between disasters that never leave the studio, but it's hard to attain good practice. Theirs isn't about making good artworks, but about how to mould the conditions for artworks to be made possible.
Ryan Gander
A4 Photocopy of Peter Fischli and David Weiss's How to Work Better (1991) as photographed by Ryan Gander in his studio.
Via Ffffound.
I think I would enjoy going everywhere or nowhere more on this little number.
Suzuki FY50 Youdy Mini 1978.
I spend a lot of time trying to figure out where I am at.
A sextant might come in handy.
(Photo: Learning how to determine latitude by using a sextant is Senta Osoling, student at Polytechnic High School, Los Angeles. September 1942. 4x5 Kodachrome transparency by Alfred Palmer. Via Shorpy.)
Animals on the brain today because of this.
I wonder how many will be memories, creatures of the imaginary only, by the time my nephew has children.
We are making the world a poorer place to live, and it's through thoughtlessness and greed.
I can't stand it.
Such a strange, strange song. Okkervil River does a cover of it, too (it's originally by Randy Newman).
The thing I remember most vividly about the bear is that it is a dangerous animal for many reasons, but principally because its face is always concealed. Its face is enduringly expressionless. It's not like a dog that will raise its hackles, not like a cat that will sort of narrow its eyes and flatten its ears. It has this huge head and a furry face and very small expressionless eyes that don't change. Its eyesight is very poor so it's always sort of squinting at you (he squints) and its sense of smell and its hearing are very keen, so it always has this expression the most terrifying aspect of which is: "Who are you? What are you?" And the judgment of what you are can suddenly change. Because it doesn't see you clearly. It doesn't know what you are.
John Irving
(He has a thing about bears - check the recurring themes chart.)
This image made me think of this book, and a million (well, three) John Irving stories.
Dancing Bear by Julianna Swaney.
I love Melinda Melmoth's stitched sketches - they take anywhere from two to 20 hours to create, and there is something about the quality of the line that really, really makes me happy.
Tiger Leaping at The Shiny Squirrel (love, love, love that site.)
The Royal Bengal tiger is solitary and “secretive”—the last attribute regularly appears in the language of even the most sober field manuals. A group of tigers—should one be so fortunate to see one—is called a streak. A male tiger can be as large as ten and a half feet in length and weigh more than five hundred pounds. The tiger’s coat is deep amber, the lines of its characteristic black shadow-stripes abstract and sophisticated. Its claws retract, like those of a domestic cat; it “prusts,” or chuffs, rather than purrs, as well as roars. The iris of the tiger’s eye is amber-yellow. The tiger is one of the few anointed animals commonly referred to as “charismatic”; “Nature’s masterpiece of the creation,” to cite a recent book; or, as Kushal put it, “something to look up to,” both beautiful and powerful ...
Carolyn Alexander, 'Tigerland', The New Yorker, April 21, 2008.
(I would like to heard a tiger chuff ... from a distance.)
Songs of Innocence and of Experience, 1794/ca.1825
William Blake (1757–1827)
Plate 42: The Tyger
Fight between a Tiger and a Buffalo, 1908. Henri Rousseau. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Photo: © CMA.
I came home and found a lion in my living room
Rushed out on the fire escape screaming Lion! Lion!
Two stenographers pulled their brunette hair and banged the window shut
I hurried home to Patterson and stayed two days
Called up old Reichian analyst
who'd kicked me out of therapy for smoking marijuana
'It's happened' I panted 'There's a Lion in my living room'
'I'm afraid any discussion would have no value' he hung up
I went to my old boyfriend we got drunk with his girlfriend
I kissed him and announced I had a lion with a mad gleam in my eye
We wound up fighting on the floor I bit his eyebrow he kicked me out
I ended up masturbating in his jeep parked in the street moaning 'Lion.'
Found Joey my novelist friend and roared at him 'Lion!'
He looked at me interested and read me his spontaneous ignu high poetries
I listened for lions all I heard was Elephant Tiglon Hippogriff Unicorn
Ants
But figured he really understood me when we made it in Ignaz Wisdom's
bathroom.
But next day he sent me a leaf from his Smoky Mountain retreat
'I love you little Bo-Bo with your delicate golden lions
But there being no Self and No Bars therefore the Zoo of your dear Father
hath no lion
You said your mother was mad don't expect me to produce the Monster for
your Bridegroom.'
Confused dazed and exalted bethought me of real lion starved in his stink
in Harlem
Opened the door the room was filled with the bomb blast of his anger
He roaring hungrily at the plaster walls but nobody could hear outside
thru the window
My eye caught the edge of the red neighbor apartment building standing in
deafening stillness
We gazed at each other his implacable yellow eye in the red halo of fur
Waxed rhuemy on my own but he stopped roaring and bared a fang
greeting.
I turned my back and cooked broccoli for supper on an iron gas stove
boilt water and took a hot bath in the old tup under the sink board.
He didn't eat me, tho I regretted him starving in my presence.
Next week he wasted away a sick rug full of bones wheaten hair falling out
enraged and reddening eye as he lay aching huge hairy head on his paws
by the egg-crate bookcase filled up with thin volumes of Plato, & Buddha.
Sat by his side every night averting my eyes from his hungry motheaten
face
stopped eating myself he got weaker and roared at night while I had
nightmares
Eaten by lion in bookstore on Cosmic Campus, a lion myself starved by
Professor Kandisky, dying in a lion's flophouse circus,
I woke up mornings the lion still added dying on the floor--'Terrible
Presence!'I cried'Eat me or die!'
It got up that afternoon--walked to the door with its paw on the south wall to
steady its trembling body
Let out a soul-rending creak from the bottomless roof of his mouth
thundering from my floor to heaven heavier than a volcano at night in
Mexico
Pushed the door open and said in a gravelly voice "Not this time Baby--
but I will be back again."
Lion that eats my mind now for a decade knowing only your hunger
Not the bliss of your satisfaction O roar of the universe how am I chosen
In this life I have heard your promise I am ready to die I have served
Your starved and ancient Presence O Lord I wait in my room at your
Mercy.
The Lion for Real.
Lion anatomical engravings from Hermann Dittrich's illustrations for the Handbuch der Anatomie der Tiere für Künstler.
Post title: Karen Blixen.
WPA posters for the Cleveland Metropolitan Housing Authority city projects.
I wish these places had been able to live up to these gorgeous utopian images, but they didn't. The patronizing tagline on the first one is particularly galling.
From jinkytones (1 & 3), pantufla and Shorpy, respectively.
If you ever need to feel happier, try going down a slide.
One of the best things about living in the Cleve is the rich array of quality sliding. In the winter, we have this, but the rest of the year, Coventry Peace Park Playground in Cleveland Heights is the place. For optimum fun, the slide must be metal and at least 20 ft long, and the one in Coventry is a beaut. Whenever I need to feel better about the world, that's where I go.
When you go sliding, good footwear is key - we like Chucks, as you can see:
Plan to go down the slide at least three times - three is the key to forgetting your worries.
Running back up the stairs help speed up the process.
And you have to take turns. Here's me in action:
Pure happiness. The jump at the end is the best part.
Sliding is hungry work, so afterwards we hit Tommy's - they have a killer selection of grilled cheese and the very best veggie burger on the planet, not to mention the milkshakes. Oh, the milkshakes.
Another happy costumer:
I want to go back already.
This is the first song Sean and I ever danced to - December 1997.
Sunday is our sixth wedding anniversary.
This was our wedding invitation. I made it myself because we were young and broke and we couldn't afford letterpress or pretty much anything. I typed each one out on a busted typewriter my sister found for me because I wanted the vellum to feel embossed, like real invitations. Each one was three pieces, and they were clipped together and mailed out in kraft paper envelopes with a button and string and an RSVP postcard.
The pictures of us are photobooth snaps from a random, beautiful evening when we first started dating, and the quote is from the marriage scene in The Tempest (we first met in an acting class).
Of all the projects I have ever done, this is by far my favorite.
Such a happy day.
I've written before about Sam Beam's gifts as a lyricist. No one sings about love the way he does. It always feels like he is drawing from some deep, true spring of domestic love and fealty. Not the beginning of the story or the happy end, but the long epilogue that follows happily ever after - the best time.
This one particularly has been running through my mind today.
Poster Number 4: Cloud Study, 1970. Gerhard Richter.
I want this for the wall in my bedroom so I can look up and dream of clouds.
A feast for the wordy people of Cleve tonight:
Adam Gopnik talks on What is the Museum for? at 6:00 P.M.
Amasa Stone Chapel, 10940 Euclid Avenue, Cleveland
Jonathan Lethem talks with Betty Sussler of BOMB Magazine at 7:30 P.M.
Aitken Auditorium, Cleveland Institute of Art, 11141 East Boulevard
Both free, free, free. See you there.
So. We had this old table. Unremarkable, really. One day, I decided to do something different with it.
After I painted it, I got to thinking. I am nothing special in the drawing department, but I have always kept notebooks full of my weird little doodles and quotations and phrases and song lyrics that are special to me. Using those as inspiration, I thought I would decorate this little table, figuring that if I don't like it, I can always paint it shiny yellow.
Out came the Sharpies, my old notebooks, and some favorite poetry volumes ...
Drawing on tables takes longer than you think it will, so I've been working on it here and there, doodling funny little things and writing on quotations as the mood strikes me.
I'm still on the fence as to whether I like it or not. It may end up glossy yellow after all. In the meantime, it's fun getting to draw on something not paper. As we speak, I am adding some tiny apartment buildings ...
Friends ...'is a project to connect people all over the world and at the same time create a beautiful piece of drawing with the help of you nice folks out there. All you have to do is download the template and draw a self-portrait or anything that you desire as long as the drawing does not touch the gray margins. Drawings submitted will then be montaged together on this site to form a bigger drawing.'
So, so rad. I love scrolling through the doodles (although some are not work appropriate - be forewarned). Participate here.
Found via my newest blog obsession, Doodlers Anonymous.
Drawing on walls and other things not normally drawn on has allured me since early childhood. I blame Harold and his purple crayon.
Charlie Kratzer of Lexington, Kentucky, decorated his basement using $10 worth of Sharpies.
From the Herald-Leader:
'Kratzer might be a lawyer by day, but in his off hours he is a man who has taken the artistic influences and heroes of his life and imagined them onto his walls, that he might keep company with them while he uses the pool table.'
This is so inspiring I just about can't stand it. Look at that fireplace!
Via Drawn.
The little orphans have found a home!
Thank you, thank you, thank you to wonderful Jessica the kitten Samaritan who took TWO kittens into her home.
TWO! (#3 had already been adopted by a neighbor).
It made many, many people happy to know that those little fellows were somewhere warm last night.
Don't you think she deserves some of these? And this too?
Hip, hip, hooray!
Images from here.
With the economy precarious, I've been calling on my crafty resources more than usual. Right now, I want to sharpen my sewing skills so that I can make myself clothes (thus allowing some aspects of the imaginary outfit to venture forth into reality!). Of course, when I think about making things, I imagine myself already wearing something with inspired construction, using a whiz-bang machine and gorgeous fabric and humming along to happy tunes from my iPod. In a nod to reality, I added an apron. No matter how innocuous the project, I always wear an apron or smock. It's a little known fact that I have magical powers of mess-making and clothes ruination - for example, I can take an afternoon of sewing and turn it into a fabric printing experiment. It's best to be prepared.
(Sidenote: I took a field trip Monday to this place to get fabric samples. First project: new pillows for my couch. I'll let you know how they turn out.)
Naty Moskovich's Box Life series. I particularly like the chair on the right - I'm thinking of making one for my entryway.
(There's more fun milk crates creations at Apartment Therapy LA.)
In the future, everyone will drive tiny cars. In preparation, I have been scouting some out. Initially, I thought I wanted Rita Konig's car, but now I am leaning towards this BMW Courtney likes. Two words: luggage rack.
Boo-yeah.
Of course, this one is not too bad, either. Very futuristic.
These are all posters issued by the U.S. Government during WWII.
It seems almost impossible to believe that there was a time when government asked us to carefully consider the impact of our humblest actions. Being careful with food, wearing long johns, turning down the thermostat, planting vegetables, even carpooling - these were patriotic things to do. Nothing was too small to make a difference.
I like to look at these posters and think of great challenges successfully met. I only wish we hadn't been so hasty to abandon these values, because they are as important as they ever were.
Images from the awesome Green Patriot Posters.
And so it goes and so it goes
And so it goes and so it goes
But where it's goin' no one knows.
(But it's not looking good.)
