Schiaparelli

Elsa Schiaparelli's Skeleton Dress was the first piece of hers I'd seen that caught my eye enough for me to say her name three times so as I would remember it and this was well before I cared enough about fashion to care enough to remember who'd made what, and that dress is good. Pre- or Ur- or Proto-Gaultier seems dismissive, but what do you want? Giger? Sufficed to say, I had every intention of posting something, but then I sat down and googled Elsa Schiaparelli.

Sometimes I hear the high whistle of wind hitting some such building just so so it whistles even when the building's not there so I whistle just so sometimes I whistle as well. Sometimes I whistle. This is what it was that I was whistling today.



Then I drank a bunch of coffee and got the bass line to For the Love of Money by the O'Jays deeply stuck in my brain over and over to the point that, whilst trying to knock it off its perch with atom bombs of earworms (80s rap songs I know the words to, anything on Queen's greatest hits, pre-school morning circle songs), this fusillade's respective lower clef were summarily replaced, each and every, with bum bahm-bah-bm-bm bah-behmbehm-bah-bim. The spontaneous acappella mash-ups did get lively once I decided to giggle and give in. The dancing, however, remained bottled deep down for later.

I remember these from a good while ago, but I stumbled over them again and they're still so cool.

She takes baths all over.

I like trashy pulp magazines and 50s Italian ones more so.

I like to write backstories for strangers.

I get lost in pages composed in languages I don't speak. It helps me hear the noise of it as sound, like how shitty Spanish pop lyrics don't bother me.

Speaking of pulp leads to thinking of pin-ups. I lean towards cheesecake but Robert McGinnis's noir vibe has the same fans in my head as the ones that fondly remember reading James Bond novels as a boy.

To balance out all the pictures of tits, Djuna Barnes should be more well known if for no other reason than that her bio starts off with "Barnes was born in a log cabin on Storm King Mountain". I know the period is outside the quotation marks, but working around the comma at the end of that phrase would have been as cumbersome as continuing on to say near Cornwall-on-Hudson, New York.

The Russian designs turned my mind to Japanese prints and thinking about taking an art class at a community center.

There's a store in Prague named after Terry Gilliam's Sock and it has real cool posters.

While we're on it, Russians,

Revolverwind,

hand-style,

ravenlessness,

but birds.

The Black Hours:

Radical Maps:

OK. I'm sleepy now. Here is RTP TV.

Zwischenraum: the space between things

Hot Rod Lincoln Car Jump gave me exactly what I expected, but, half-listening and not watching, it revealed itself as a lightning-fast evisceration of the soul. "Powers was lucky: He'd broken his back." is a vivisection. "Did I make it? Is everyone pleased?" This is a man living a life of noisy desperation. He didn't make it across the river, but I'm sure he got there in the end.

I can't remember the first time I saw this image. I don't know where it is in the world, where in the world it is. It's in the rolodex next to Tamara de Limpicka's Le Turban Vert as pieces that I must see in the real: how rosy are her cheeks; which green. Duchamp is purported to have joked that a painting's most important element is its title: I keep thinking, she's right-handed.

If you're going to be into one Vietnamese feminist post-documentarian, Trihn Mihn-ha is a pretty safe bet in my book.

RTPTV:
I make all these faces.


This is better than any antidepressant.

Young Sonny Rollins. 'Nuff said.

Just listen.

I remember hearing about an experiment centered around a group of chimpanzees. The chimps were well-treated and well-fed, with the exception of a banana bunch just out of reach that was forbidden. If the apes went for the bananas above them, they got the hose. Eventually the group learned that the taste of those fruits are forever to be a forbidden knowledge. It was an insoluble constant. After the establishment of this status quo, some apes were swapped out. The new apes immediately went for the bananas and everyone got the hose. After some time, new apes were exchanged into the group. The new apes went for the bananas, but the group stopped them because 'we don't eat those bananas.' This process continued until a time when new apes were introduced to the group and the others prevented them from eating the verboten bananas even though none of the apes had ever been sprayed with the hose; it was tradition.


I want to be friends with her.


Again with the antidepressants...

Again with the just listen.

This is one of my favorite christmas songs.

Madame Yevonde's series of socialites as goddessess is a pocket favorite.

Peoples is peoples.

Emma Hartvig has a great eye. I feel a similarity in the dreaminess of Liliroze.

Mr. Steve McCurry

The Ashaninka will outlive us all.

I saw Eugene Von Bruenchenhein's work at the Intuit Center. I like to go there on the weekends because you can usually get a guided tour. This visit, Sarah the guide let me into Harvey Darger's apartment (which they've reconstructed on the site). I touched his wallpaper.