Magic Windows #15
by angeliska on July 21, 2010
Throw back those heavy damask curtains,
rip down your awful venetian blinds and
unlatch your windows. The night is warm
and full of birdsong and neighborhood
sounds. Pull out all your boxes of treasure
and light candles, and see what you might
find. That’s what I’ve been doing lately, and
it’s resulted in a giant mess – but I’m greatly
inspired by what I’ve been finding. Summer
evenings are full of deep breathings, insects
calling to each other, yelling and fireworks
and ice-cream trucks. Is that what you hear, too?
This photo is in the bathroom stall at a Mexican restaurant
I frequent. I need to make myself one like this. Plumes + stars!
I wish the photo showed it better, but is this not totally amazing?
I love how much happier and natural she looks in boy drag.
Who was she? Her royal witchness. Look at those plaits!
Anyone know where these Sphinxes are, or if they
still exist? ‘Til the sphinx winks, she said. Questions
for the Southern Oracles, eh? I have some too.
“By the Sad Sea Waves, Sam found a chicken!”
This kitty toy was found in Rome by Mr. Bruce Lee Webb,
of Waxahachie, Texas. I could play with it endlessly, but
really oughtn’t as it’s quite old, and for sale. I made a video
instead, so I could enjoy it always. Next best thing!
Bastille Day at Justine's
by angeliska on July 19, 2010
The other night, we gathered for an evening
of unabashed celebration to honor le Quatorze Juillet!
Bastille Day is infinitely more fun than the 4th of July,
especially when the party is at Justine’s – our favorite
French brasserie located conveniently right down the road.
There were shocking volleys of fireworks, an impressive
guillotine, and though I missed the cake and Josephine Baker,
(alas!) the French punk band + red, white and blue cocktails
were excellent. Best of of was seeing so many friends and
various cuties all dressed up in the colors of the French flag!
Liberté, égalité, fraternité ou la mort!
Nicole Labry slays me every time! She is so brilliant, hilarious and sweet –
and can whip outfits like this out on a whim. Oh yeah, and she’s a mama!
Allyson Garro of Coco Coquette in one of her custom wigs – so sassy!
Miss Erika Payán Zanetti, a dashing swashbuckler.
Pierre owns the place with his lovely wife Justine – they have really given
the neighborhood, and the city such a gift. If you haven’t been yet, let’s go!
Penny Stark + Chia Guillory, wearing some of Chia’s incredible designs.
Matching rumba outfits? Ruffles and sequins and satin, oh my!
This is Emily. I love her hat and gamine face.
Dan + Jen = moustaches + white tulips make me happy.
Vive le France!
Francesca is a tiny dynamo who has always loathed being referred to as “cute” –
and though she’s so much more than that, I’m happy to see that she’s finally just
accepting and owning the fact that she is cuter than all get-out! Beyond cute!
I mean, seriously? Own it, girl! Rompers + clown-noses forever!
Mistress Stephanie’s luscious red ribbon heels.
Vintage deadstock sunglasses from Coco Coquette, hair ornament from Tail of the Yak.
I collect clothes with little hearts, and painted or enameled deco ball chain jewelry. FYI.
Allons enfants de la patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé.
Contre nous de la tyrannie
L’étendard sanglant est levé.
Arise, children of the nation!
Our day of glory is here.
For against us we see raised
Tyranny’s bloody banner!
My full set of Bastille Day photos are up on Flickr! – take a peek!
also, a charming Scotsman named Sandy Carson
took amazing photos all night – go and see!
Mermaid Corpseflower Honey
by angeliska on July 16, 2010
✸ One of my favorite films ever, I Am Dina, is available for your viewing pleasure
on Hulu right now, and though it’s not the ideal medium to watch something so
incredibly beautiful and powerful – it’s free! Also, I’m not sure that this film is at
all available widely (I had to order my DVD from Canada when it came out)
and that’s a damn shame, because it really is so wonderful. I came across some
information about it before it was ever released in the States, and managed to
catch it at a movie theatre when my Grandfather and I were in Copenhagen.
It just happened to be showing at a little art-house a few doors down from our
hotel (across from Tivoli Gardens!) So, it was everything I had hoped for and more:
a gorgeous, sweeping period drama set in Norway at the turn of the century
with wolf-wild, filthy snarling half-orphans, tragic deaths, cellos, and incredible
cinematography, set and costume design. The casting is superb, from Gérard Depardieu
to Maria Bonnevie (who I loved in the role of Dina). Not only that, but two of my favorite
actors, Christopher Eccleston and Hans Matheson have roles as a foxy Russian anarchist,
and sexy stableboy, respectively. Swoon. If you’ve ever wanted to ask me about my who
my dreamboat crushes are, well there you go. Also, Ralph Fiennes and Tilda Swinton.
So now you know, just in case you wanted to send me a singing telegram from any of
those people. Right. So – I went right out to a bookstore after we saw the film and bought
two of the trilogy that inspired the film, by Herbjørg Wassmo. Sadly, these are hard to find
in the States as well, and my copies were lent out and lost – so if anyone in Scandinavia
would be willing to send me English translations of Lykkens sønn or Karnas arv (which
I don’t even think was ever translated, actually. Damn it.) I’d be so grateful! Let me know!
✸ Rima Staines of The Hermitage recently made a fantastic post about
Old Women Who Paint On Their Walls. These magic self-taught crones
channel their passion, fears, hopes and joy into maniacally beautiful
paintings that cover their homes from floor to ceiling. The remind me
a bit of Nita and Zita, the burlesque acrobats from New Orleans. Their
house on Dauphine Street was painted everywhere too! Nita and Zita
are my patron saints, and number one fashion and lifestyle inspirations.
“What fascinates me about these women is the obsessiveness in their painting.
Perhaps because they’ve kept a lid on their creativity all their lives, and it boils
over dramatically in their later years, we see wild, imaginative, otherworldly art
produced lavishly beyond the boundaries. There is a difference about it.
But the interesting thing is that it is not “Art” but paintings, all over the walls
of these women’s houses. This transgresses any staid assumption of social
boundary – i.e. what is or is not acceptable in one’s dwelling place.
It is too much. It is mad. And it is marvellous!
They are peasant frescoes, and are utterly truly-wrought I think.”
– Rima Staines, on Old Women Who Paint On Their Walls
and
“Those works created from solitude and from pure and authentic creative impulses –
where the worries of competition, acclaim and social promotion do not interfere –
are, because of these very facts, more precious than the productions of professionals.
After a certain familiarity with these flourishings of an exalted feverishness, lived so fully
and so intensely by their authors, we cannot avoid the feeling that in relation to these works,
cultural art in its entirety appears to be the game of a futile society, a fallacious parade.”
~ Jean Dubuffet. Place à l’incivisme (Make way for Incivism).
Art and Text no.27
✸ Dagnabit, but wouldn’t you know I went and missed the Annual Coney Island
Mermaid Parade again this year? Well, Tod Seelie Suckapants was there,
and he took lots of great pictures, which you can peer at in the following sets:
GHOST-FACED AND FRIENDLY
DISAPPEAR WHEN YOU DRAW NEAR
BOW DOWN AND DIE
Also, I highly suggest you develop an addiction for his blog, because not only
does he regularly post amazing photos of my friends making art, making music,
making out, or making giant messes but he always does fun giveaways, and he
usually posts great music for you to check out. He’s introduced me to a lot of stuff
I might never had heard otherwise, including my top heavy-duty rotation summer
anthem of the moment, which is Lissie’s cover of Kid Cudi’s song Pursuit of Happiness.
It’s my get to it music right now. I’m normally not turned on by folky girls covering rap
songs ironically (barf), but this is just really good. Also, on that note – if we’re gonna
get cute, let’s not fuck around right? Who knew the Carebears were Ice Cube fans?
(Photograph by Madi Ju)
✸ I just discovered The Ladies’ Guide to the Apocalypse
tonight, purely by chance (if you believe in that!) and am blown away.
I need to go eat nachos with Summer Burkes real soon, and I think we
all need to be reading about her experiences doing cleanup in the Gulf.
Read her writing on the I Ching, and prepare to knocked on your ass.
I was just explaining what the I Ching was to someone earlier tonight,
and this makes me want to get some yarrow stalks. My dad taught me
how do it with quarters when I was 11, and though I feel far more
connected to the tarot, the hexagrams are so elegant and powerful.
✸ Welcome to East Austin! from The Hipstercrite
This is my neighborhood: sweet little alleys with junkyard dogs and magic
and also ridiculous modern condos that stick out like sore thumbs. Strange mix,
for sure – but here we are. A lot of them are just standing empty now. It’s be nice
if some families came and brought all their car parts and kids and cats and just
filled them up with life and barbecue and loud tejano on the radio. Fingers crossed!
✸ On the subject of hipsters, Alan Moore expounds on
his definition in an excellent interview in The Quietus by John Doran.
JD: “You’re proud of your status as a hipster. Do you regret
the way it’s become a disparaging, pejorative term now?
AM: Has it? Yeah, that’s probably true. It used to be a fashion statement,
but it was information as a fashion statement which is probably going to do
you more good than the clothing you wear. I got an incredible education starting
from the point at which I was thrown out of school. Now, I could probably hold my
own intellectually with most people who have had university or college educations.
And indeed some of them will have done courses on my books. So, despite the fact
my ‘education’ ended at 16, I had hipsterism, which was wanting to be hip, and that
led me to read this incredibly diverse array of books on science, mysticism, science
fiction, literature, art… I would find out about these movements that I had heard about,
and it’s given me a pretty comprehensive education. Now I am an autodidact,
which is a great word… I learned it myself.”
and this:
“Everybody is becoming [a superhero]. In the past I’ve tried to say,
‘Look, we are all crappy superheroes,’ because personal computers
and mobile phone devices are things that only Bat Man and Mr Fantastic
would have owned back in the sixties. We’ve all got this immense power
and we’re still sat at home watching pornography and buying scratch cards.
We’re rubbish, even though we are as gods. I think the idea that we can all be
superheroes if we want might still be contagious, like in V For Vendetta.
I’ve heard of urban superheroes springing up across the world.
I think there’s one in London called Angle-grinder Man…”
✸ Recently a caravan of friends went to go see Lois,
the Amorphophallus titanum blooming now at the
Houston Museum of Natural Science, but alas,
she was being shy that day! There have been quite a few blooms
here and there, and if you get the chance to experience it, you’re a lucky one
indeed. I hope at some point in my life, I will get to smell the corpse-tastic aroma!
FUNKWATCH: Corpse flower “On The Bloom”
✸ Care and Feeding of a Mermaid – superb vintage footage from 1961 (found via Miss Swissmiss)
✸ Inspired? You can make a mermaid tail of you very own! Finally!
Magic Windows #14
by angeliska on July 14, 2010
It’s been awhile since I’ve made a Magic Windows post!
I sometimes forget that I always have a camera on my
phone, and even the pictures aren’t ideal, they usually
come out good enough to share. Trying to capture the
beauty I come across. To remember, to revel in it.
The other night at a birthday party I spied these fancy moths.
I got up on a chair in high heels after much wine to take the
pictures. Probably not a great idea, but I had to do it! Glad I
did too, because I love the patterns of the insects, the lacy
porchlight shade, the rough asbestos siding. I love what
you find hanging around porchlights on summer nights
(mostly, anyway). I’ve never seen a luna moth in person,
but it is one of my great wishes too one day. Have you?
Look at him so elegantly black black black. I wish he would
roost on my hat like a jewel. I would be honored to escort him.
Sometimes you alight on a book you’ve always meant to read,
and once you start, you can’t imagine how you waited so long.
The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter is like that for me. For some reason,
I’ve waited a long time to come ’round to the Southern Gothic canon.
Maybe because it’s always been too close? Now that’s a comfort,
to be able to enter into those old towns, old ways again – terrible
days as they were – for sure they’re nearly gone now. I was usually
escaping the claustrophobic confines of spanish moss draped quiet
streets – the same I biked down every night, forsook them instead for
books that took place in chilly London, in dark New Crobuzon or
bloody Ciudad Juárez. Oh, but now – I think I’m ready to dive in
and swim on home. I started with Eudora Welty, and fell in love
with her prose. Carson, though! She just kills me. Flannery’s next
on my list, oh and Katherine Anne Porter – man, I think it’s all about
the ladies for me right now! Though I need to finally dig in to some
Harry Crews, too. Reading these authors feels right in the summertime.
Here’s something Flannery O’Connor had to say about it that I like:
“Anything that comes out of the South is going to be called grotesque
by the northern reader, unless it is grotesque, in which case it is going
to be called realistic.” There’s something I need to dig for here,
in that black alluvial soil where the stories come from. These places,
and the memories they hold. It’s part of the reason why I live down here,
why I want to stay. That, and the weather. Also, friendly people!
Back to The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, oh! I’ve never read any
book that captured so well the sense of painful longing, the restlessness
of people trapped in between, walking dark summer streets aimlessly,
looking for something amazing to happen. I know that feeling so well.
“This was her, Mick Kelly, walking in the daytime and by herself at night.
In the hot sun and in the dark with all the plans and feelings.
This music was her—the real plain her…
This music did not take a long time or a short time.
It did not have anything to do with time going by at all.
She sat with her arms around her legs, biting her salty knee very hard.
The whole world was this symphony, and there was not enough of her to listen…
Now that it was over there was only her heart beating like a rabbit and this terrible hurt.”
— Carson McCullers
Tomorrow I start this one. I’m so grateful that I snapped it up when I s
saw it, and now have it on hand to begin. It’s so painful when you fall
in love with an author and nothing else will do. I like that I’ve been
finding these 70’s paperback editions, too. I love the cover designs,
their compactness, and nostalgia-inducing aroma. Delicious books!
On a completely unrelated note, I painted my fingers and toes green
today. I cannot budget manicures or pedicures anymore, alas, and
so must attempt to get better at not making it look like a messy child
did it. I feel like I have glittery emerald beetle carapaces in place of
nails. The color is called “Ivanka”, but I’ve decided to re-name it
“Divine Decadence” after the shade Sally Bowles favored.
The polish is made by Zoya, a company that eschews chemicals – they are
all formaldehyde, toluene, dibutyl phthalate(DBP) and camphor free! Not
that it’s still not kind of bizarre, and probably still somewhat unhealthy to
paint lacquer on your claws, but hey. I stopped painting them for years
and years, because I always work with my hands, and they chip so fast.
But it does cover up the dirt constantly embedded under there from
gardening, and helps me not viciously gnaw my hangnails. So! Polish.
I’d like to get Edyta, Adina and Akyra. Still looking for the perfect mint.
The other afternoon, I got to hang out with my little fairy godson, Sascha.
He shares my love for cuckoo clocks, and played with them for a long time.
It’s amazing to watch children at play. It’s very intense, very focused. I read
something recently that talked about what we really are doing when we are
“at play”. It’s very valuable work! I remember how intent I could be when
playing with my dolls, or building forts, or digging. I learned about this odd
UK site called Ghost of The Doll from Miss Lorra Faye Stranks recently –
if you were a child of the 80’s that didn’t grown up in an ashram or
something, you can bet that something you adored is listed there.
I wasn’t expecting such a visceral flood of memory as I clicked through
pictures of My Little Ponies, but seeing them again brings me right
back to that space of being so completely absorbed in combing
candy colored manes, or making them talk, or prance about or
whatever. I remember all their names, the personalities we gave them.
Children’s toys surely can absorb some of that focus, wouldn’t you think?
Even the crappy plastic ones, I reckon. See anything there you remember?
Sascha’s the best. I love that we can have little conversations now.
It’s pretty amazing to know someone from the very first day they were
born, and then to see them acquiring language. It’s magical indeed.
I know I’m biased, but honestly, I think he’s the most marvelous child ever.
Blue Gold Red
by angeliska on July 9, 2010
I don’t know about you, but sometimes in the midst of these
strange and shifting times I have to shift my focus away from
the horrors and tragedies of this world and cheer myself up
with a little frivolity and frippery. I’ve been far too busy for the
longest time to ever document any ensembles, and I missed it.
I’ve been spending a lot of time at home brooding in a tattered
old slip, and while there is a time and place for that, sometimes
you gotta get it together, slap on some red lipstick and towering
heels and go meet the world head on. I believe I’ve written about the
mystical powers of the perfect red lipstick before, but I’ve got to say
it again: if you feel blue, cloudy-headed, or lacking in clarity (and
you are a wearer of lipstuffs, of course) then hie yourself to the
nearest MAC counter and grab a tube of the most shocking,
scintillating red you can find. Ruby Woo is the ultimate red
for me, but I know there are other good ones out there too.
Afternoon light and shadow-lace veils. Dressing up is a balm
for my soul. It’s still my favorite game, and I’m going to endeavor
to do it much more often – even when I’m only stepping out for
a little while. I feel like it makes a difference in other people’s
lives too. Also, I feel that those of us that enjoy it owe the rest
of the world an example of how not to succumb to the perpetual
casual Friday that has sadly become the norm. Dress to inspire!
We went to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants the other night,
the Eastside Show Room, and had fabulous cocktails and tempura-okra
and little quails stuffed with figs and talked of exciting plans,
and of cabbages and kings. I found this 70’s wrap dress at
Feathers, (one of my favorite vintage shops here) and wore
it over a black slip (yes, the same one I’d been living in for days!)
fancy stockings and a pair of suede foldover boots from ASH
that I’m wearing as much as possible despite the rainy days
we’ve been having. The sequin headband was made by my
sweet Miss Nina Carolina, and the golden leaf necklace is
from Ren at Lux Revival. I love wearing things from my friends!
Speaking of, I borrowed this dress from my BFF Pandora. It’s a very special
dress, and has magical powers. It’s the most comforting, happy-making
thing to wear, ever. As if it were cotton spun from buttercream and sunshine.
I hope you’ll forgive the outfit and vanitas heavy post, but it’s been quite a
spell, so I’m cramming a few into one! Are you down with the fripperies?
The brown wedges are also from ASH, and I adore them. They are so well
made and comfortable, and obviously I like being artificially tall. Plus, it’s
nice to be able to throw on a summery frock but then take it up a notch
with some serious footwear. Dressing for heat like this with any modicum
of elegance is definitely an art. My advice? Always carry a hand-fan.
My darling friend Chad Merritt (of St. Mary’s and Mon Petit Fantome)
came to town, and did much to lift my spirits from the doldrums!
Sweetness! I don’t know how I never realized before that the horse mural
on Milton St. (off South Congress) is a superb backdrop for picture-taking!
If you aren’t familiar with his beautiful music, or his wonderful
artwork, I suggest you get yourself acquainted! Not only that,
but he is one of the funniest, sweetest and most thoughtful
people I have ever known. I only wish he could be here all
the time! Chad lives on the Gulf Coast, near the Texas/Louisiana
border, and has been through several vicious hurricanes that
basically destroyed his hometown (as well as his home and
belongings). I’ve never met anyone more resilient and open-
hearted. We talked about our sorrow about what BP has done
to the Gulf, to our oceans and to the lives of everyone in the
region. He’s been a real inspiration to me to not get mired
in the swamp of despair. We’re both Capricorns, and our
saturnine natures make us a little pre-disposed towards
gloom – but you just have to pick yourself up and take
care of business, and then make art or writing or music
from what’s in your heart. My concepts of justice and
fairness have really been tampered with lately. I’ve
been feeling like a little kid, stomping and screaming
about how unfair various situations are – these huge
corporations that get away with destroying our world,
these cops that get away with shooting unarmed young
men in the back, and all the little dramas that we perpetuate.
I’m starting to wonder if justice really even exists – or it it’s
just an outdated concept, a mythical beast. I had a vivid
dream recently that I’d thrown a big party at my house
where the guests got drunk and rowdy. I found a card
from my mother’s tarot deck torn in half. Can you guess it?
Yep – JUSTICE. I fixed it with cellotape and kicked the
hooligans out of the garden. Pretty clear symbolism there.
What do you think? Is there any justice left in our world?
Was there ever? I try to think of it more like a wheel –
sometimes the wheel takes a long, long time to get
back around to even things out, but I like to think
that it does eventually. I do believe in karma, but
I don’t think it’s always as instant as we would like
it to be, and there’s always run-off. See what happens
when I try to make a frivolous post about outfits? Ha!
Tigermilk Honey
by angeliska on July 6, 2010
I’m glad I don’t smoke anymore, but this ad for Murad cigarettes is quite tempting, eh?
✸ Exciting news! The latest issue of Coilhouse is out now:
Coilhouse 05: Let All The Children Boogie is the juiciest, most glam-tastic issue yet,
and I am proud to have a piece on The Last Days of Gadjo Disko
included in those glossy pages! Grab one quick, because the sell
out fast – you can buy online, or at most decent booksellers.
For your daily dose of wonder, I highly recommend developing an
addiction to the blog as well – there’s just so much goodness there!
For the last few months, my life had become almost unmanageably
busy – to the point where I no longer had any time to read all my
favorite blogs. Now that things are a little calmer, I’ve been making
time to go back through some of the great articles I missed, and
was especially taken with these gems. Deliciousness, ahoy:
✸ The Anthropomorphic Glamour of Antoine Helbert
✸ A Decadent Parade of Outrageous Fancies: Alastair
✸ Rachel Brice: Serpentine
✸ Alt/1977: WE ARE NOT TIME TRAVELERS by Alex Varanese
I love this set of re-imagined mp3 players and cell-phones designed
and advertised as it they had been invented in 1977. Reminds me
of the tantalizing technology I used to gaze longingly at in my uncle’s
OMNI magazines! I miss OMNI, man! I’d love to look at some old issues.
Happily, the folks at BoingBoing read my mind! There’s a great post
up with links to some of my favorite covers and more. Too good.
Memories of Omni magazine
✸ I ♡ LadyFag!
StyleLikeU has a great tour of her closet and boudoir.
I think she’s divine, and I’d like to comb her armpit hair
with a painted bone comb and then raid her wardrobe.
✸ Latest booklust and fascination: Hugh Raffles’s “Insectopedia”
He’s an anthropologist who’s exploring our relationships with
the insect world. I have a feeling that reading about his work
might really help me with the revulsion and panic I feel at times
when confronted with particularly nasty bugs. Namely the giant
“palmetto bug” cockroaches that we have down South. They fly.
I am fascinated and delighted by all sorts of other bugs, but there
are some that just make me act like a shrieking child! It’s so silly.
I have a good friend who is an entomologist, and I could pick his
brain for hours about the complex worlds of these creatures.
I love this excerpt from the Times article:
“Insects are all around us. They are the most numerous animals on earth,
yet we pay them scant attention. Few of us attend to their innate beauty.
More often than not, they are seen as pests sent to plague us
(with the notable exception of the now threatened honey bee).
‘We simply cannot find ourselves in these creatures,’ Raffles writes.
‘The more we look, the less we know. They are not like us.
They do not respond to acts of love or mercy or remorse.
It is worse than indifference. It is a deep, dead space
without reciprocity, recognition or redemption.’
[….] Raffles’s entry on “queer” insect sex is more life-affirming,
and comic, sparked off by an image of a butterfly probing the
anus of a rove beetle, ‘just two little animals enjoying a little action . . .
and feeling pretty good about it,’ as Raffles writes, exhorting,
‘We need more queerness!'”
There’s also a great interview with Hugh Raffles here
✸ I recently fell in love with the Texas Invasive Species
website. It’s so well-designed and informative! Yes, I am
aware of my intense dorkness. Honestly, though – it’s so rad.
I mean: Emerald Ash Borers, Raspberry Crazy Ants, Tropical
Soda Apples (which are listed as a Federal Noxious Weed!)
I could spend hours poring over plants and bugs that don’t belong.
✸ Scouting New York is the wonderful photo-blog of a location scout
who has a knack for finding the strangest and most amazing places.
Hidden In An Abandoned Orphanage
The Wizard Of Park Ave
Decapitation at the Ziegfeld
✸ I’ve been contemplating a re-design of my studio,
and have been much inspired by Rebecca Kasner’s
tumblr of inspired rooms. So much to drool over there!
✸ It’s been storming like crazy here this week, and we’ve got lots
of interesting neon-yellow mushrooms cropping up everywhere,
but I wish we had glow-in-the-dark mushrooms like the ones that
are appearing in Japan! I bet the kodamas sit on those.
✸ A Journey Round My Skull never ceases to captivate me with obscure prints
and illustrations. Taking Tiger Mountain By Strategy is an incredible series
of prints of Chinese opera make-up. They are so fantastic, do go see them all!
Stars + Shadows
by angeliska on July 4, 2010
What is America? What is it to be an American?
It’s very complicated. It’s one of those words that used
to mean something pretty good, but now is embarrassing
to admit to, like identifying yourself as a poet, or as bisexual.
There are so many lousy ones out there – they’ve given any
of the good ones such lame reputations that you’d never
advertise it unless you were completely oblivious.
My first instinct (especially when traveling outside my
country) is to be ashamed. I feel shamed by my privilege,
by the brashness and bravado I’m expected to walk with,
the obliviousness to the rest of the world, the narrowness,
the pride and patriotism for a place that has continually
screwed over its inhabitants (and neighbors). A country
of invaders and immigrants that forgot how they got here,
forgot what it might have been like for their ancestors,
who were not born here. There is wonder here, as well:
though it is fast disappearing. Carl Sandburg’s corn fairies
are being buried by the run-off from gated developments
that no-one will ever live in. The potato farmers won’t
eat their own crop, because they know it’s all poisoned.
The little desolate towns call to me, Detroit’s hulking
shells of former grandeur groan entreaties to come visit
while they can still stand. I want to see the Gulf of Mexico
again before it all turns bloody, I want to climb the mountains
of Appalachia before they all get their tops blown off.
There’s a lot on those backroads I intend to see before
it’s gone. So much of a way of life, that for a little while
was such a treasure. It wasn’t here for very long.
Firefly season gets shorter and shorter on this side of the Rockies.
That being said, I’m still a sucker for almost any holiday.
I like the ritual celebration. I like costumes, and wish people
still made gown and crowns with crepe-paper stars. I like
summertime, and hot-dogs with sauerkraut and fireworks.
I think these four bleak black and white found photographs
from Square America say it best for me. Awkward, silly
yet darkly beautiful. Ordinary, extraordinary. So many
of the photos collected at Square America capture that.
So much of our real story is told in what remains afterwards,
the ephemera, the much-repaired feed-sack dress, the iron.
When it’s completed, the compendium from the wondrous
curator will give anyone a solid overview of who were were,
and how we came to get here. There are hard things to see
there, violent things that make you wonder how anyone could
see them and still hold a camera steady. There are beautiful
things too, sweet scenes of people and places that only exist
in now in those little frames. Just the table of contents and the
names of the chapters alone make me thrilled to see the entirety.
They read like the song titles from a Tom Waits album, or maybe
shades of Cormac McCarthy. Go and see, see where we came from:
This Is My Country: An Epic Survey, Rendered In Photographs,
Home Movies, Audio Recordings, And Other Assorted Ephemera,
Of Everyday Life In These United States And Of The Ways And
Customs Of The American People c.1900-c.1976 (A Work In Progress)
Book I: The Old World (1900-1946)
The Aeronauts Dream, How the West Should Have been Won,
Westward the Course of Empire Takes Its Way, The Frogman of Chicago,
On Grandma’s Porch, The Dance Lesson, The Girls of Summer, Dramatis
Personae, My Days at Illinois, In Aurora, The Great War, A Letter, Great
Northern, A Trip to the Shore, Lady Earl Stops for Milk, Queens of the World,
Spring, Crying Holy unto the Lord, On A Darkling Plain, The Scavengers,
A Trip to the Fair, A Bike Ride, The Kiss, G-Men, We’re in the Army
(and the Navy) Now, The Home Front, Our Lady of the Pacific,
Once More unto the Breach, The Soldier’s Dream, The Voice
of Your Man In Service, May 8th, 1945, V For Victory,
What We Brought Home from the War
Book II: On the Ways and Customs of the American People
African-American Photobooth & Small Studio Photographs,
Smoke, Fire, Drink, Drunk, A Brief Reminder of an Unpleasant Reality,
La Violence Américaine, Ambiguous Evidence: Heaven in a Shotgun Shell,
Ambiguous Evidence II: Blood, Hair on Tractor, Scrap Girls, The Cooper’s Dream,
Lift & Carry, Up in the Old Hotel, The Dispatchers, Play Ball, The Gridiron,
The Sweet Science, In the Bathroom, A Brief History of Laughter.
Book III: The Land and What We Put Upon It
The Ghosts of Vegetation, The Farmer’s Dream, The Crop Duster’s Dream,
We Cast Our Dreams in Chrome and Steel, The Grid, At the End of the Mechanical Age
Book IV: The New World (1947-1976)
Paul of Nazareth, Bakersfield by Night, To Ruben & Other Stories,
The Road Barons, The In Crowd, Race, The Also-Rans, Here Am I,
Your Special Island, Memorial Day, At the Ball, Down in the Basement,
In the Neightborhood, 51% of Everything, The Promised Land.
Epilogue: Of Being Numerous
Required reading for the holiday:
The Air-Conditioned Nightmare – By Henry Miller
Peachtree Moon
by angeliska on June 30, 2010
It’s been a strange and heavy time for me lately,
fraught with unforeseen changes, and deep transformation.
In times like these, I tend to retreat inward, and am prone to
hermiting and becoming protective of my silence, my space
to think and ponder whatever may be next. Hanging around
in my chrysalis, swaddled in silk-net shadows, paying attention
to the moon, and her behemoth attendants. This year is full of
eclipses, and this most recent one had been particularly brutal.
So far, quite a few friends I’ve talked to have experienced rough
weeks too – anyone else out there laboring under the plow of a
celestial taskmaster with a whip? It’s as if the stars and planets
were tipping fate off (or into?) balance. If I’ve ever felt skepticism
or bafflement at astrology’s verity, all that is evaporated now.
I can’t begin to explain how it’s supposed to work, but I know
that all of my horoscopes lately have been shockingly accurate.
I was similarly skeptical when I first encountered the tarot, and
the I Ching, at a very young age. My father introduced me to both
when I was around eleven. He gave me the tools to practice,
and books to read,and let me have at it. I remember being so
curious, but also scoffing slightly at the idea that these pieces
of paper could have any bearing on my life. The more I worked
with them, the more they showed me exactly how that could be
possible. There was no vagueness, no bleary affirmations or
unremarkable predictions – instead I found stories and symbols
that pertained so directly to my life, and to what I was experiencing
at that moment. I rarely do readings for myself anymore, but recent
events have left me feeling the need for guidance. I don’t think I’ve
ever done a more interestingly spot-on reading. I love the 15 card
spread, and always prefer it over the traditional celtic cross I was
taught on. Known as the Romany Spread, or the Golden Dawn
Spread, I think it allows for some of the most elegant configurations
and numerical progressions. I hadn’t used that first deck, inherited
from my mother when I was still a child, in a very long time. I still
always use the 1970’s Albano printing of the Rider Waite Pamela
Colman Smith deck for readings and teaching. I collect tarot decks,
and have scads of lovely ones – but this is the one that speaks to
me the clearest. I just love it. For me, it is totally disassociated
from the narrow and often backwards interpretations that A.E. Waite
tried to instill it with, and instead emanates perfectly the more intuitive
occult wisdom of the woman who designed it. I wish there was more
information out there about Pixie Smith! Luckily, there are a couple
of fantastic resources, namely, Mary K. Greer and John Coulthart.
Here’s what the cards had to say that day:
Curious, isn’t it? It all seems very much in order with what’s going on
with me lately, though surprisingly more positive than I might’ve
anticipated. I’m glad of it! I’d be interested in any thoughts or
interpretations anyone might have on it. It seems to be a time
of flux, not only for me, but for the world in general. Times like
these, I’ll take any oracles I can get! The trick is to not consult
them compulsively, though it’s hard when you find one that
really resonates with you. Lately, I’ve been really impressed
with the work being done by Barry Perlman, and I have always
loved good old Astrodienst. Got any recommendations for me?
I am in love with our miniature orchard. The puny little peach trees
that have never grown much, are so heavily laden, they bend nearly
to the ground beneath the weight of so much fruit! Our pear trees
and the pomegranate are also getting heavy with deliciousness –
we’re waiting anxiously for them to get ripe enough to eat. This
time we don’t plan on letting them become prey for stinkbugs
or butterflies, either! Dr. Bronner’s in a hose sprayer seems to
be doing the trick so far. We have a peach cobbler in mind!
Our garden also produces fuzzy little peaches with claws,
and lots and lots of problems! Mr. Renfield Bojangles
(pronounced in the Spanish fashion, please) Whiskerwitz,
also known as Tom Tum, was found hiding from the hounds
behind the hated Nandina bushes, skinny as a bundle of rags
and sticks, with a big wormy belly. His face had been
attacked by some vile creature (maybe a possum?),
and his lower lip and chin nearly ripped off! He also
has a terrible case of ear-mites. We cleaned him up,
and he’s been recuperating and is definitely on the
mend. Of course, we’re supposed to be getting him
in better shape so that we can find him a home, but
naturally we’ve gotten very attached to him! I only
ever seem to have orange kitties – all my life, that’s
all I’ve ever had! I also tend to live with people that
have brown tabbies. Those two always end up being
paired, over and over. Anyhow, little Bojangles has
been an incredible source of solace recently – he’s
basically a living motivation poster. He is the kitten
hanging off the branch. “Hang in there!” is his motto,
all the way. I’m a big advocate of kitten or puppy therapy.
It’s pretty hard to be miserable with a cute baby animal
around, and it’s good to have something to take care
of rather than just sitting around feeling sorry for yourself.
I’ll try and post regular photos of his progress to boost morale!
Rusty Jacknife wants to devour Bojangles. We’ve decided that Jack isn’t a cat
at all, but rather a minor demon who wears an ill-fitting cat suit and has
decided to keep us company. He doesn’t even walk like a cat! Instead,
he has the lumbering gait of a fat possum. He’s so ridiculous and adorable
though, it’s hard to resist his charms – even when he does insist on coating
the velvet loveseat in my studio with a thick pelt of orange fluff! I had to put
down a towel, because it got so grody. The copy of Lula Magazine obscured
by cat-fat was a lovely gift from my dear sweet darling Chad Merritt, who will
be here in just a matter of days! I cannot wait to frolic and watch fireworks with him!
Oh how I wish this lovely hand-tinted moth print could be mine! Alas,
a photo must suffice. I want to plant more and more night-blooming
flowers to attract giant moths to our garden. I have loads of moon-flowers
seeds that never made it into the ground – I wonder if they’re still any good?
In lieu of moonflowers, we’ve got loads of angel trumpets, oh heavenly datura!
The other evening we sat transfixed, watching the huge flowers unfurl. Who
needs television when you have a garden? We even made a video of it
happening! If you are very, very patient, you might enjoy it too:
AZZ EVERYWHERE
by angeliska on June 22, 2010
In the third buckwild installment of Azz Everywhere
we are bringing you the dirtiest mouth in the south,
hot lady rapper and New Orleans Bounce diva
The Legendary Ms. Tee! Our DJs Rusty Lazer
DJ Twerk (aka. Chicken Kiev) will be makin’
your booty go all night long. With poppin’
aerial dance performance from Miss Marion Ette
and hostessed by Miss Angeliska!
Bootylicious visual projections from RECSPEC!
The party goes from 10pm – 3am –
$7 at the door – 18 +
Friday, June 25th
at The Independent (ND) 501 Brushy & East 5th
We will also be featuring an Bounce Dance Class
with the lady, the legend – Altercation!
It’s at 9pm and sliding scale of $10-$20
Learn how to twerk like those girls on YouTube!
RSVP at bounceclass@gmail.com
My head exploded in a crystalline shower of laser chrysanthemums.
Val + Al
Dawn + Tootie
Miss Marion Ette doin’ her thing.
…and being sweet with Big Freedia.
Work it for Freedia!
I am surrounded by sweetness + fabulousness!
They are brothers, too – can you believe? So cute!
Alan had to take his boots off eventually, but can we talk about fierceness?
Penny Stark aka. DJ Lovecat
Mike Peen of The Peen Scene, an extremely useful and trusted source
for fun nightcrawling and music out and about in Austin. This guy is tireless,
or so it would seem! He and and his lovely wife Jen always do great coverage
and photos, and make me happy whenever I see them out and about. Go Peen!
Jen Peen!
Want more? Oh, there’s lots!
Check out all the photos from
AZZ EVERYWHERE!
Summer Solstice – Poppytime
by angeliska on June 21, 2010
I haven’t written about our garden in a little while, possibly because
I’ve been too busy enjoying working in it, and getting my hands dirty
to remember to photograph all the transformations. Poppytime has
passed now, and it’s a pity! I had never been able to get them going
properly until I figured out to scatter the seeds in autumn. They were
short-lived, but incredibly stunning. Perhaps next year I ought to whack
the heads instead of letting them seed out, and I’ll get them for longer.
As it stands, I’ll have a forest of poppies by the time Spring is here again!
Poppy imagery has been following me everywhere – on old postcards
and pillows, and songs and in dreams especially. I dreamt I encountered
the god Narcos – he was six storey talls, swaying gray and ancient high
above me. His arms were snakes made of fire and hundreds upon hundreds
of hands. He was challenging me in a voice made of stone and centuries
of bringing sleep, numbness, dreams and death to the countless. The
poppy priestesses spoke for me, in white robes crowned with the red
and black blooms. They told of the blood pact, the monthly sacrifices
all women must make, and our calling to honor the flower, and not
the poison. They used the nectar only for healing, for bringing succor
rather than sybaritic oblivion. A boon was granted; I had their protection
and thus Narcos was rendered powerless. It was one of the most intensely
symbolic dreams I’ve had in a while, and I feel like the spirit of the plants
were speaking to me. Interesting, too because I actually cannot ingest
opiates or opiods at all. They make me so uncomfortable and ill, which
completely negates their purpose. I do love the flowers, though and I
love the dried pods. We gathered so many seeds! Also tons of arugula
and kale seeds. If anyone wants to do a seed trade, just holler.
Oh, and I just found this article about Wolfgang Stuppy, Seed Morphologist Extraordinaire!
He’s doing amazing work, and his book Seeds: Time Capsules Of Life
is really stunning. “Stuppy works in the seed conservation department at the
Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew (or Kew Gardens) in London. Kew heads up the
Millennium Seed Bank Project, an international conservation effort to collect
and store the seeds of 24,000 plants from around the world —
and the seeds of all native flora in the United Kingdom.”
“Ooh, their breath is warm,
And they smell Iike sleep
And they say they take me home –
Like poppies, heavy with seed –
They take me deeper and deeper.”
– Kate Bush, And Dream of Sheep
Our nectarine, pear and peach trees have been thickly laden with fruit,
but we got distracted and forgot to spray the fruit with soapy water.
I was shocked to discover all the pretty golden orbs covered in
sucking beetles, who drilled holes and swarmed the trees.
The leaking nectar attracted loads of butterflies who made
little tea-parties, extending their curled tongues to lick up the juice.
Obviously, I was very transfixed by them! I couldn’t stop taking pictures.
I’m hoping all of you are having a very fruitful and delightful summer solstice!
I wish we had time for some fire-leaping or corn dances or something, but
in lieu of that, how about we all watch Wicker Man again? Mer posted a
great reminder up at Coilhouse, but if you’ve never seen the whole film,
hop to that first, eh? It’s one of my all time favorites. Avoid the remake, please!
“Sumer Is Icumen In” (Wicker Man Version)
One pink flower and one blue flower – I’ve never seen such a thing!
Borage is one of my favorite herbs to grow. I just found out that the leaves taste
like cucumber! I’m going to experiment with eating them soon. The oil is good
for lady-troubles and hormonal imbalances, among other things. It’s also known as Starflower,
and comes from Syria. The flowers apparently have a sweet honey-like
taste and are one of the few truly blue-colored edible things! I had no idea Borage
is used in companion planting – it’s something I’ve been researching for a bit, but
there’s so much to learn! It is said to improve the growth of tomatoes, and also
make them taste better, and is said to repel the tomato hornworm. Likewise,
it is thought to protect or nurse legumes, spinach and brassica, and even
strawberries. Well, I need to plant Borage everywhere now, eh?
Blue Skullcap – Scutellaria lateriflora (also known as Hoodwort or Blue Pimpernel)
It’s said this this one is powerful remedy to calm the mind and prepare for meditation,
and good for strengthening the insight. It’s a ceremonial symbol of introduction
for young girls coming into womanhood, and a well known herb for the lady troubles.
It’s also a weapon against muscle spasms caused by rabies (that’s why it’s also called
Mad-Dog Weed!) Skullcap has a long history of use against insomnia, nerve pain,
anxiety, and delirium tremens. I grow the pink kind too, but this special blue one
was a gift from a magical elf gardener-man. Its growth patterns are very psychedelic!
So, I must learn this Joanna Newsome song this week for a benefit on Saturday.
It’s not an easy one to sing at all! Wish me luck, won’t you?
Hopefully I won’t be petrified. I remember when this song
was released before Have One On Me came out, and I
listened to it over and over on repeat, huddled in blankets
and aching for the warm days when I could work in my
garden. I’ve been thinking about forgiveness a lot lately,
and welcoming everyone into my garden with an open
heart, regardless of the trouble we might have had.
It’s especially significant, because I’ll be doing this
song with my step-brother (he’s going to play it on
guitar.) We’ve never played music together, and
a year or so ago I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
But we’re working on it, and this will be part of that process.
It’s hard, but worth it. I would rather love openly, than
protect my heart. I don’t hold grudges, as a rule,
and I tend to be loyal to a fault. I guess there are
worse things to be. I’m learning how to make it work.
I’d rather just have everyone be together, I guess.
Well, I think Joanna really says it best – I hope we
can do the song justice! I’m trying not to be scared.
“I found a little plot of land
in the garden of eden
it was dirt and dirt is all the same
I tilled it with my two hands
and I called it my very own
There was no one to dispute my claim
Well, you’d be shocked at the state of things
The whole place had just cleared right out
It was hotter than hell, so I lay me by a spring
For a spell as naked as a trout
The wandering eye that I have caught
Is as hot as a wandering sun
But I will want for nothing more, in the garden
To start again
In the hardening of every new heart but one
Meet me in the garden of Eden,
Bring a friend, we are going to have ourselves a time
We are going to have a garden party,
It’s on me, no sir-e, it’s my dime
We broke our hearts in the war between
St. George and the dragon
But both in equal parts are welcome to come along
I’m inviting everyone
Farewell, to loves that I have known
Even muddiest waters run
Tell me what is meant by sitting alone in a garden,
Seceded from the Union in the year of ’81?
The unending amends you made
Are enough for one life, be done
I believe in innocence, little darling, start again
I believe in everyone.
I believe, regardless, I believe in everyone”
– Joanna Newsom – ’81