Cempasúchil por los Muertos

by angeliska on October 26, 2009


Photo by Nils Juul-Hansen
This is from a shoot we did with Nils last year for the Disko De Los Muertos
posters
, I just dug up them up again! I was in such a design frenzy
at the time, that I neglected to give the individual images their due:
they are so many fabulous ones, but I put a few up in the Muertos set.

For reasons unknown to us, Mexic-Arte Museum gets an early headstart
on kicking off the Día de los Muertos festivities around here – this weekend
they had their annual Viva la Vida Festival and Muertos Procession.
I slapped on some bone-face and sped down there, missing the parade alas,
but finding a twilight fiesta in the street replete with sidewalk banquets
and a horde of calaveras. I fell in love with the mural on the side of the museum.

The delicate shades in the setting sun were just too gorgeous to be believed.

The golden stenciling inspired many photo-op frenzies.

This is my favorite photograph of the night. It just kills me! Baby super-heroes.

Danse Macabre, eh?

I adored the paper avocados and watermelons. So much beauty.

Inside the musuem, there’s a great exhibit of ofrendas, some very traditional
and others more conceptual. If you find yourself in town, I recommend stopping by.

I had fun posing with various families that wanted a picture with a sparkly dead lady.

This a a photograph of a photograph by Geoff Winningham,
who is incredible. I had to take a picture of it, after I stood
staring for the longest time. You could fall right into it.
The placard nearby read:
“Todos Santos (All Saints) is a fiesta celebrated throughout Mexico
on November 1 and 2. Commonly known as the Day of the Dead,
it, like many Mexican fiestas, can be traced to pre-Hispanic times.
The Aztecs celebrated two feasts of the dead in the fall of each year:
one, the Feast of the Little Ones, was in memory of the children who
had died; the other, the Feast of the Big Ones, was for adults who had
died. Although the Spanish friars forbade the Indians to have feasts
in the cemetery, commemorations of the dead continued throughout
Mexico as the Indians changes their dates to coincide with All Saints Day
and All Souls Day on the Catholic calendar. Today, the Day of the Dead
is celebrated, with varying customs, everywhere in Mexico.
Rather than being macabre or frightening, it is a festive time of reunion.”

See also:

Verhext – Calaveras & Candles


Día de los Muertos – R.I.P. Studs Terkel

Santissima Muerte!

Magic Windows #5

by angeliska on October 24, 2009


Creepy cute lion babies, you hypnotize me. I cannot look away.
You have me under your power. I will now paint everything I own gold!

We had this giant preserved Alligator Gar specimen in the window at
Uncommon Objects for a little while, before it was snapped up. Wish I’d
gotten a better picture of it when I had the chance. A certain sweet someone
dropped many hints about wanting to hang it over our mantle someday…
Well, it was either the $1200 price tag, or the fact that as fascinated
as I am by these guys, they still give me with willies that stayed my hand.
Years of swimming in Texas lakes knowing that prehistoric monster fish
are brushing up against your toes is enough to induce major shudders.

Can you even handle how amazing this is? I cannot.
Oh! How I love an elk! Oh! How I love victorian errata!

Okay, gratuitous cute puppy photo snuck in for good measure!
Look y’all, she likes to sit in the hammock with me! I love her so much.

Invalid feeder + fancy cut-glass shot + teeth + star tea cup = covet!

I found this beautiful image of Miss Ruth in her coffin, covered in lilies.
Memorial photography is a tradition I wish we hadn’t lost along the way.
The back of the photograph is inscribed with the following:
“Ruth Mae Speechly – my sister
died of typhoid fever, 16 years.
August 3, 1926 in El Dorado, Ks.
buried in Forest Park, Range Line
Joplin, Mo.”

Midnight Honey

by angeliska on October 22, 2009

carlo_gianferro_20
gianferro_42
“Gypsy Interiors is a series of portraits capturing the private world of these outwardly loud,
vivacious people. Here he finds a rich and profound intimacy, hidden but exhibited among
antique furniture, tapestries, paintings, religious images, china, staircases and mirrors,
set into large rooms or sometimes minimized in empty spaces waiting to be filled.
Images of women sitting on elegant sofas or portrayed during intimate family moments,
young people lounging on beds in their luxurious rooms, elders immortalized amongst
their mementoes, proud faces of parents admiring their children. These are portraits of
a people wanting to show that they have finally succeeded in finding and forging
a place and a dignified future within our society, without losing the gypsy values,
handed down orally, that come from the hearts of their ancestors.”

☛ I’ve been totally fascinated by Carlo Gianferro’s series of photographs
of Roma/Gypsy interiors. I stare at them again and again, trying to parse
their distinct style that mixes futurist deco curves, and dacha sentimentality,
with caravan coziness, and outrageous bling. Larger images can be seen
courtesy of Mr. Saturnic. I deeply desire both the Roma/Gypsy Interiors
book and the Gypsy Architecture book. That is a very unsubtle hint, yes?
They are both just mind-blowing – I need them to pore over continually, please.
tumbleweave
(This photograph, and the next were taken by Baby Cujo)
tumbleweave 2
☛ Stumbling upon a fine specimen of tumbleweave
never ceases to bring me joy. This urban phenomenon
is documented in a flickr group devoted to tracking lost
weaves in the wild. I know I’ve lost my share!
Oh, little weave! Wherefore art thou?
neithersnow
I am in love with this beautiful calligraphy, (thanks Nubby!)
Handwriting is incredibly important to me. I can instantly adore someone,
without ever having met them – based on their handwriting! My beloved
stepmom has amazing handwriting, and is incredibly gifted at handwriting
analysis. I’ve learned a few things from her, over the years. Most importantly,
she gave me the impetus to work on my own hand, by giving me my first
calligraphy set. It transformed my awkward, hateful adolescent penmanship
into something slightly more graceful. I don’t write as much as I’d like to lately,
(with a pen, anyhow) so there’s much room for improvement. I really believe
that you can change your temperament by working on your handwriting.
☛ I stumbled upon A Silent Flute’s super blog the other night,
and got hooked on his crazy mixes. Good writing music.
Also good if you’re Tina Chow. On a yacht. In the moonlight.
Wearing all white. Oh yeah. I’ll go ahead and stop now, I guess.
☛ One late night over gin cocktails in New York,
Miss Allison told me a strange tale
about cow tongues nailed to trees in the park. Spookytown.
Bizarre find in Prospect Park
☛ More late-night discoveries! Thanks to Agent Revo,
who turned me on to the insane video-art of Ryan Trecartin:

“If I didn’t take the liberties to glue these prop knobs
onto my safe space, who would you think that I’d be?”

Perfect for those times when you’ve worked yourself into a frenzy,
and you need to encounter something more spastic and insane
than your own brain. We’re talkin’ about serious cracktivities, children!
☛ I am ENFP, on the Myers-Brigg’s doo-dad.
What are you? Want to know what it’s like to
be me? This thing is so accurate, it’s crazy.
☛ Schadenfreude, much? Regretsy makes me cackle
and cover my eyes simultaneously. Some folks maybe
should not be given access to hot-glue guns, or the internets.
☛ Got any more late-night wonders for me? Float my boat, babies.

Rest, then

by angeliska on October 21, 2009

20090625074309
(via paperlilies)
Fever dreams, strange passages, sleeping all day.
Oh, I’ve been so ill! Again, a nasty bug has knocked me down-
an unfortunate casualty of my poor candle, burnt at both ends.
I’ve been flattened like a pancake under the steamroller of a
particularly pernicious strain of influenza. Bother!
I won’t go into the gory details, only that the only places
I’ve spent any time recently have been the bed and the
lavatory. So sad. Luckily, I do like saltines and applesauce,
which my diet has consisted mainly of. Also bananas.
Many good things happened before I went under the weather,
however. Including, but not restricted to the following:
★ We saw Where the Wild Things Are, hooray!
It was so wonderful. I loved the attention to detail.
Of course, I bawled. Brimming heart, broken twigs.
★ Taking the pups for lazy afternoon walks after checking out
some garage sales. Strolled by our sweet neighbors abode,
and got in some sweet sunset porch perchin’ with one of the
prettiest families ever
. They plied us with treats: banyan tree
seeds, fancy beer, my favorite incense and homemade vegan
chocolate cheesecake! A good reminder to be more sociable, eh?
★ Enjoying a break from disko preparations to attend
darling Mme. Labry’s birthday party, where we sipped
the most amazing drink ever: bison grass vodka and
apple juice daiquiris! Apparently, it is the national drink
of Poland. If so, let’s go! Especially nice in slushie form.
Unfortunately, I had to depart before the stripper we hired
had arrived. It was my special request that he wear a cop uniform!

(I took this photo of Chad and Tracy of St. Mary’s on my back porch)
★ I had a lovely visit with my darling Chad (aka. Mon Petit Fantome)
who was in town to see Hope Sandoval play. What a luminously
gorgeous show. I never had the opportunity to see Mazzy Star
perform, alas – but this more than made up for it. Hope’s voice
is even better in person, and she’s ace on the xylophone.
The projected images overlaying the stage were completely
hypnotizing – lava and sparkles and silent film snippets.

Witchery in the house of sticks!
stack
(photograph by Nick Heywood)
★ This pile of German periodicals makes me have a funny feeling in my heart.
Wait until you see the details from the spines- they are glorious indeed!
I’ve been laying around reading, reading: nothing too serious.
I devoured Stieg Larsson’s Swedish hacker/journalism/sex/noir
sequel The Girl Who Played With Fire
, and plenty of magazines
(Interview, Cabinet, The Believer). I require more subscriptions, please.
Also, your latest book and magazine recommendations, please!
(via
(via petitdejeuner)
★ I actually have a bit more time now, and am looking forward to
catching up on my reading soon. Not that I don’t have stacks piling up,
but oh – there’s always room for more, hmm? I’d like to get The Wild Things
soon, speaking of… The cover is fantastic, no? Wants.

Picture 2
★ Oh yes, and – I started one of these… Angeliska Parade!
This is what happens when I’m confined to indoors.
A good repository for scraps of glory and oddments.
★ Solitude, such quiet. Peaceful for the first time in awhile.
Silly that I must be so ill in order to achieve it. It feels like
my body’s getting the rest it didn’t the last time I was sickly,
rushing about in New York. Well, okay. Rest, then.

Strange Season

by angeliska on October 16, 2009

One of the many things I appreciate about Texas weather is
the constant mercurial shifting between extremes. Honestly!
I am, in so many ways, a creature of habit. I can easily get bogged
down in work and routines, so perhaps that has something to do
with my insatiable craving for variety. I require a steady flow of information,
new music, inspiration and weather unhindered by conventional seasonal
structure! I get restless with long stretches of monotonous weather,
so I suppose it’s a good thing that I live in such a confusing and dramatic
climate. After a long and brutal droughty blaze of summer, we’ve had almost
non-stop rain for a month and a half or so now. What was dry and parched,
cooked to drab brown has become lush and resplendently verdant:
everything is draped in green, and strangely — all blooming!
The land is baffled, bringing her harvest and and flower both,
and making me think of my most favorite story ever, The Erl King,
by Angela Carter. I love to read this aloud in autumn, deep in the woods,
around a fire. It is one of the most perfect things ever written.

“Goats milk to drink, from a chipped tin mug; we shall eat the oatcakes
he has baked on the hearthstone. Rattle of the rain on the roof.
The latch clanks on the door; we are shut up inside with one another,
in the brown room crisp with the scent of burning logs that shiver
with tiny flame, and I lie down on the Erl-King’s creaking pallaisse of straw.
His skin is the tint and texture of sour cream, he has stiff, russet nipples
ripe as berries. Like a tree that bears blossom and fruit
on the same bough together, how pleasing, how lovely.”


These odd little bees are pleased about it as well.
This pear tree is loaded down with fat pears, still hard,
and then frosted with starry white! It is so bizarre and beautiful.
The mandarin tree is bedecked with waxy buds, also!

Other items of harvest: these mushrooms that I did not like the taste of.
The man tried to make me eat them in an omelette, and stamped and fussed
when I refused- but their meat was too bitter and astringent to be palatable.
Our pomegranates are much tastier- everyone in the neighborhood is after them!

Evidence of rollerskating birthday parties: fabulously gory tattoos,
temporary of course. I don’t have any tattoos at all! Again, I prefer
to have transitory decoration. I liked having this one, for a day.

These sulphur mushrooms have popped up everywhere!
Little yellow cities sprawled in each garden bed.
“He knows which of the frilled, blotched, rotted
fungi are fit to eat; he understands their eldritch
ways, how they spring up overnight in lightless
places and thrive on dead things. Even the homely
wood blewits, that you cook like tripe, with milk
and onions, and the egg-yolk yellow chanterelle
with its fan vaulting and faint scent of apricots,
all spring up overnight like bubbles of earth,
unsustained by nature, existing in a void. And I
could believe that it has been the same with him;
he came alive from the desire of the woods.”

4008446873_37215d3346
I had a lovely surprise visitor the other day in the form of
Miss Liza Ferneyhough (aka. stellarbaby) – I am totally
obsessed with her artwork, and have started a wee collection
of her fantastic gocco prints. I was beyond charmed and delighted
to discover that she had done the drawing of me above,
in marionette form, and astride a grackle no less!
We share a deep love and appreciation for these oft-reviled birdies.

Oh yes, and at long last- my haircut! I am so happy with it, and so glad
I followed my instinct to go through with it. Somewhat serious, considering
that a year ago I would have a panic attack even considering cutting bangs.

Change is good. My Saturn return ends this month, and that ritual shifting
seemed very necessary. My friend Chenoh, at Black Orchid Salon did it!
She’s wonderful – I felt very sure, and very calm and trusting, because I knew
that she knew exactly what I was after. Of course, I use dog clippers for upkeep.
Glamour! Strangely enough, it seems to make random people really pleased
as well- and no old ladies have inquired if I’ve had brain surgery recently.

Everyone’s been asking for pictures, and unfortunately I’ve just been too
swamped with deadlines and so much to do that I’ve not been able to
find a moment for an all-out vanity-fest, alas. These weird blurry shots
of me rolling around with my puppy in the backyard will have to do!

Have I mentioned lately that I really love my puppy? It’s true.

The new hair has inspired bouts of listening to Skinny Puppy’s Too Dark Park,
watching Ladyhawke, and wearing really silly sweaters. This weather and
all that makes me think of being 14 and very broody, walking in wet woods
with my headphones on. I’m also having to remember how to layer for
colder weather, starting with leggings and leg warmers with apples.

Now I’m feeling zombiefied.

Nostalgic yes, and slightly lycanthropic. Goodnight!

GADJO DISKO – Glamour + Sickle

by angeliska on October 15, 2009


Here we go! Time for another Gadjo Disko!
Are you ready? I am! Or I will be, just as soon as I make my headdress!
The next one is this Saturday, October 17th
10pm-4am at The Cockpit, 113 San Jacinto & 2nd
We’ve got a night of disko mayhem ready,
featuring Stanley Roy
Little Stolen Moments
Minor Mishap Marching Band
DJ Chicken Kiev
& Sick!
$7-$15 Dress to transgress!
Oh yes, and – at very long last:
photos from the fashion show!
Mine were not so super, and everybody
else’s are still trickling in, but here are some
of my very favorites, though it’s so hard to choose!
The following seven photos are from Zee Great Wendini!
Many more of her photos can be seen here, and also
lots of good ones from her fella, Flash Barrilleaux.
3869717040_d2d89647a2

Ekaterina Konovalova, resplendent in firebird plumage…
3867849209_d8a760a0c0
Mistress Stephanie was the most fantastic emcee!
She and her Melodic Cat performed a new song that made me blush
right down to my ankles, entitled, “The Lovers of Madame Polacheck”!
There’s not a video for that one, (yet!) so in lieu of that, please enjoy
their latest yummy videos (especially anyone not yet familiar with their oeuvre)


3868664480_51096d8765
The White Queen, Miss Herr, wearing Jade Rumor
3868921117_34cb0b31c1
Hello sweethearts! This girl saved my face from disaster (literally!)
and the darling Matty, who made such delicious ensembles…
3869696710_c7fef0155f
Hung is wearing LyuRad, with extra long appendages!
Asen is wearing her own designs à la Shi Feticcio/Cross Couture.
3868939977_00c5e4db9b
Alix and I after the show- he was my model and muse!

This photo of my favorite pair of twins was taken by
Miss Autumn Spadaro, as were the following three.
More of her photos from the night can be found here.

Francesca y Alisan, horned and be-skulled in the lav.

Sweet seahorses! Outfits by the fabulous Hermie Escamilla, modelling with her man.

This last one might really be my favorite – I love the dancing legs (and arms!)
You can see my photos here – just scroll all the way down, yes?
So excited for this next one- I need to dance dance dance very soon!

Magic Windows #4

by angeliska on October 9, 2009


Summer’s dwindling has brought the storms:
this one was coming for me before I began my journey.
I outran it in high-heeled boots, the wind lashing at my
leftover locks, head newly half-shorn, walking through
the drive-through at the bank. A vagabond.
I went to the marvelous Observatory Room for an opening
of James Walsh’s show regarding plague clouds.
“A series of letterpress prints, the black cloud, will be presented in the gallery.
Late in life, the English writer and art critic John Ruskin (1819-1900) became
obsessed with what he called variously the black cloud or storm cloud
or plague cloud or black wind or plague wind or evil wind or black fog,
a new and unexplained weather phenomenon that cast a pall over nature
and human affairs and had something to do with the advent of modern times.
It was a purely meteorological occurrence, to his mind, though no meteorologist
had noticed it, and it was not produced by his loneliness, his failure in love,
or his increasingly common and sustained bouts of madness. He brought
all these observations together in his essay “The Storm-Cloud of the Nineteenth Century,”
and his journals from this period contain minute descriptions of this phenomenon
and its effect on the landscape and his mind and spirit.
Working from his journals, fragments of text relating to the black cloud were traced,
made into printing plates, and printed in an edition of ten on a Vandercook proof press.

I found a strange correspondence between the apparition of looming
thunderheads above and Ruskin’s black clouds, as far as my sudden
malaise in New York was concerned. It was brought on by a vicious
encounter with cheap, poisonous incense and sustained for weeks
by an acute wind-fire deficiency. It really put a cramp in my style.

This pretty much sums up my feelings for the duration of my journey,
sad to say. Between falling horribly ill and being hog-tied by one of
the most brutal Mercury Retrogrades in recent history, it was kinda
one of those trips – with incredible flashes of magic and wonder
interspersed amongst the chaos and stress. I met and connected
with some incredible new friends, and that made it all worth it.
Also, I had a gift from the universe in being blessed, every single
time, with the kindest and most magical taxi drivers. It was amazing.
They helped me over and over again, even if we were totally lost.
Thank you, universe, for helping me flag down the most generous
and convivial cabbies in all of New York. They consistently
under-charged me, were great conversationalists, and showed
me much sweetness. Thank you, especially to the Tibetan lady
who gave me a yellow rose at 5am – it was an honor to meet you.

Public transport, I have not so many nice things to say about.
Usually, I love the trains. This time, well- they were not functioning
properly, and it was enormously frustrating. I did love crossing the
Brooklyn Bridge everyday, and seeing the sun shining on the water.

Speaking of kindness, my wolf-nurse-magic-friend-sister, Miss Shine Earnesty
made me brunch in bed! She took care of me when I was sick. I love her.

We went to see the new works at Socrates Sculpture Park
on Governor’s Island. There were many fine pieces there, my favorites
being the huge flensed vinyl whale, the subway stop and David Brooks
wooden path through a copse of trees. Still, it was this sloppy concrete tower
of cakes that stuck with me- mainly because of the lyrics inscribed on the side:
“MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down…
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think that I can take it
’cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again
Oh, no! “

Well, it was only a tiny excerpt really, but it was enough to jog
my memory… Miss Violet used to rhapsodize about that song,
which is constantly stuck in my head lately.
It is so weird, and so great- especially when sung
by Donna Summer, in an insane disco extravaganza!
I also really love The Three Degrees,
performing it live in London, 1975.


Headed out to Disko Nouveaux, for a night of dark-sparkle
dancings. I met the fabulous Shien and Miss Allison, as well as a whole
bevy of beauties. This is one of the only pictures I took of myself while I
was in New York, except for the languishing in bed photo, and one I took
of myself in Frida Kahlo’s mirror, which really didn’t turn out, alas.
There’s this one, though, taken by Gabi, in which you can see my shaveness better.

I love the beavers of Astor Place.

Oh Topshop, why are you so evil? I so wanted all your insane platform shoes
and sequined leggings and beaded shrugs. Why can these minty metallic
sorcerous shoes not be mine? There were so many things there to drool over…

While we’re on the topic of shiny wonders, if you happen to be flying into
or out of Austin anytime soon, check out my sweetie’s amazing organisms.
His nickel plated hand-forged steel sculptures are on display at the airport!

Coming home in my silver capsule. Flying is so surreal.

Oh New York, next time I see you, things will be better.
We’ll have coffee, and talk and it will be like no time has
passed at all. You know I still love you, right?

Balsam Honey

by angeliska on October 2, 2009


Well, not really! I’ve been hard at work and doing a lot of thinking, my friends-
and so I do apologize for the quiet. Exciting things are soon to be revealed!
The season is turning, and in these liminal states we find hidden knowledge.
My dreams are getting wild again- are yours? What’s the latest from dreamland?

I can’t recall where I found this now, but I remember being shocked and delighted
to stumble upon it! Someone liked my kookla costume, and decided to sketch it…
But who? Was it you? Do tell. It’s like going through the looking glass, to find such a thing!

Thanks to Miss Ghoul Next Door, I’ve become totally obsessed with this carte de visite
depicting Maria Germanova of the Moscow Arts Theatre, costumed for her role
in Bluebird of Happiness. She is my perfect style icon, now and forever.

Onward, says she! Spurring me towards greater heights and flurries of productivity!
With that in mind, as I take a break from other writings,
here are some bits of fascinating distraction to inspire and delight:
✧ When I was in New York recently, I took a calming sojourn in St. Mark’s Bookshop
(one of my favorite spots) and very nearly bought a copy of Finding Frida Kahlo.
The weight and price deterred me, but imagine my pique when I discovered
the controversy! I think I still need it, even if it’s all a hoax- as literary hoaxes
have their own magic- think Thomas Chatterton and JT Leroy, hmm?
Asgarda – Amazons of the Ukraine!
“In the Ukraine, a country where females are victims of sexual trafficking
and gender oppression, a new tribe of empowered women is emerging.
Calling themselves the “Asgarda”, the women seek complete autonomy from men.
Residing in the Carpathian Mountains, the tribe is comprised of 150 women of varying ages,
primarily students, led by 30 year-old Katerina Tarnouska. Reviving the tribal traditions
of the Scythian Amazons of ancient Greek mythology, the Asgarda train in martial arts,
taught by former Soviet karate master, Volodymyr Stepanovytch, and learn life skills
and sciences in order to become ideal women. Little physical documentation
existed on the tribe, until recently, when renowned French photographer,
Guillaume Herbaut, met the Asgarda back in 2004 in the midst of the Orange Revolution.”


Looking at these images, I am filled with a powerful emotion I can barely articulate.
I think this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It’s so crazy that I had this powerful
urge to shave part of my head, as a ritual for shedding the old, and to become a warrior.
That was my impetus for doing it, and the minute it was done- I felt so strong and right!
It’s an Asgarda haircut! Please go look, and read about them.
I feel like I’ve been dreaming about this my whole life.
Pictures soon- I need to re-do it already, it’s grown out so much.
On a less profound note, some news from the ether:
✧ Did you know the Chuck Berry and Sylvia Plath were lovers?
You learn these things from Bishi, twitter, and The Independent.
“The archetypal rock’n’roller met the legendary poet at Smith College in 1955,
when he and his band played at a summer “homecoming ball”.
Berry was then 29 and tasting success for the first time with Maybellene,
named after a line of cosmetics. His band, the Sir John Trio, were No 1
in the charts and their hard R’n’B sound was a “cool” alternative,
among progressive colleges, to the soupy country and western fare
generally heard at college “hops”. Plath was 22, a senior student at Smith
and in the process of conquering her demons. After a failed suicide attempt,
a period of electroshock and therapy, she had sailed through the final exams
and was about to graduate summa cum laude. In a mood to let her hair down,
she danced through Berry’s entire set and, through the college ball committee,
arranged to meet him backstage. They conversed for an hour about
the underpinning of rhythm by the human heartbeat and Berry invited
the flushed and excitable Plath to join him at a nearby motel.
College friends provided a cover story for Plath in the next two weeks
as she accompanied the band on a tour of Maine, New England and Maryland,
occasionally helping with cooking and washing duties, before returning to Smith.
Berry fondly commmemorated their brief but passionate union in Little Silver Dollar,
while Plath immortalised her quondam lover in Berry Song
(“Love set you ticking like a fat gold watch …”)
She was to meet and marry Ted Hughes in Cambridge only a few months later.”


Thanks to Darla Teagarden and Coilhouse, I am now officially in the painful throes
of wool-want. For only £870.00 I can have this incredible thing, the CP 1919 Woolen Cape.
Now no other winter covering will do. I’m going to be shivering, naked in the streets without it.
✧ Speaking of naked.. Really? I want one!
Plans Put on Hold for Gold Statue of Semi-Naked Nick Cave
✧ Oh and I love this photo set of Kate Bush when she was a wee girl! Thanks Tara!

The past month has been quite a whirlwind. I feel like I’ve been on a constant carousel,
or perhaps in a speeding racecar with a lion. “Whee!” says the lion. “Waah!” says me.

Perhaps this should be more my pace for the next little while, eh? Llama races!
What else? Black tea, seaweed, Balsam fir incense, and cool winds.
Summer’s gone baby gone, just like that. Hello, October!
Tell me all about your favorite tidbits, won’t you?

R.I.P. Noah + Colby

by angeliska on September 29, 2009

The season turns, and I return home to find the scarlet
hurricane lilies abloom and two friends dead in New Orleans.
I don’t even know if they were acquainted,
but they both died in the same week,
probably within blocks of each other.
I have to write, have to attempt to honor them
in some way- and continue to make death public.
It makes me so sad to see the bereaved feel
ashamed of their grief, and to sense the
uncomfortable helplessness of those who
love them. I am sharing the lives and passings
of my friends here, so that you can know them too.
Of course, in these moments words desert me.
I don’t want to give Colby short shrift here,
but it had been a long time since we had
really seen each other. I met him when he
was sixteen or so, and went by the name
Famine. How gamine, and he was-
a violet-headed street urchin perpetually
on the brink of starvation who always looked
as if he had rubbed his eyes with ashy fingers.
He was very beautiful, and already looked
a thousand years old. The last time we
really shared a moment was around ten
years ago, when we left Fairyland.
There was an enormous farewell party,
of course, and as part of the evening’s
festivities, Colby enacted a performance
which involved being suspended from meat-hooks
driven through the flesh above his shoulder blades.
He was then raised 50 or 60 feet, dangling
in the air above our heads. He held his hands
in front of him and remained in quiet repose
in the canopy of pecan branches while the
assembled party gaped below. Eventually
the police came, called by worried neighbors
who thought someone had done themselves in.
When we explained that what was happening
was a completely consensual performance,
they were fascinated, and wanted to stay
and watch. I had to remind them that it was
kind of hard to keep the party going with
them around, and they respectfully left-
still staring at the boy hanging in the trees
as they backed out the gate. I’ve been trying
to find the photographs I have of that
for days, but the boxes keep eluding me.
Hopefully I’ll find them soon. I still don’t know
exactly what happened to Colby, but I’m guessing
from the silence on the subject that it can’t have
been a good way to go. I know that the walls
between the living and the dead are more
permeable in New Orleans, and I think it
is one of the best cities that you could die in.
Maybe that sounds strange, but no where else
will there be a parade with a brass band to
escort you on your journey. I know that’s where
Noah wanted to die, and he just barely made it
there in time. If you didn’t have the opportunity
to meet him in this life, here he is in an assortment
of his most lavish personas and permutations:

A periwinkle dandy-lion, hiding in the thicket.

A lord and libertine, insanely decadent.
His painted mouth, twisted comically, cruelly
crooked glitter-red lips perfectly pursed.

He loved his black pug Stimpy enormously.
Underneath the pomp and circumstance,
he had a gentleness, a child-like nature, very playful.

In the absinthe pavillion he created at Gadjo Disko.

The goat-pope at Easter, giving the egg-hunt his benediction.

With Ooops the Clown, making mudras at Gadjo Disko.

He participated in the Fashion Show at the last Disko,
and his satirical pink Hitler fop, with paper doll underpants
was a fitting swan-song before leaving Austin, and Earth.

This photo was taken by Ooops after his last major heart surgery.
Noah had Marfan Syndrome, which affected his health in a lot of ways.
He was 33 when he died, and had commented recently that he had
outlived the life expectancy for someone with that disorder.
He died in the night, hopefully in his sleep.

In his own words he was..
“..A cake eating, ale swillin’, razor cheeked, gypsy fortune-teller.
Mercifully bereft of the ravages of indirect communication.
I am a classically schooled witch-doktor with an emphasis
on Afro-Carribean technologies. I am a dress maker, a tailor,
and an impromptu utilitarian. I am the unfortunate product
of pomp and circumstance, and in some cases I am
an unlikely anti-hero. I am skilled in the services I offer.”


R.I.P. Noah, aka Baron Zubi, and Colby-
may you both eat cake
with the guede and learn all their secrets.
One of Noah’s favorite sayings,
“…However mankind has baked his cake,
and he must eat it, every crumb,
and when he has done so
he can clap his plate on his head
and use it for a halo.”

Magic Windows #3

by angeliska on September 18, 2009

A quick Magic Windows update from afar,
these are actually all Austin related images
that I’ve been meaning to show you for awhile..
Don’t worry, the New York edition of Magic Windows
is shaping up to be pretty great. Just you wait!

A friend of mine from teenage days recently dug up some pictures
taken by my best friend all throughout middle and high school, Milé Boban.
Milé, I miss you! If you’re reading this, thanks for inspiring me in so many ways,
and for capturing these moments. I was 15 or 16 in this picture, and very sassy-
(and goth) as you can see. I dabbed on a bit of Robert Piguet’s Fracas recently,
and was immediately transported back to this time- well, maybe a few years
later, but remembering discovering that very sophisticated, flirtatious, grown-up
lady perfume for the first time. Precocious, yes- very. At least I had good taste!

Found a giant spider in my bathtub a few days before the fire-
not an omen, though. Spiders mean money is coming- the bigger
the spider, the more money! I saw a tarantula on my doorstep when
I was 12, and the next day found a $20 dollar bill in the school parking lot,
which was a considerable amount to me at the time. Still is, really!

I love this heart-shaped locket with Steve McQueen lovingly taped in.
It’s musical, and plays the theme from “Love Story”, of course!
I like to imagine the swooning young boy who had this hidden under his pillow.

Magic mirrors. Ten minutes after I took this picture, a beautiful artist from France
came into the shop asking for help in finding a small, crackly mirror. Bingo.

I’m obsessed with this amazing mineral. I wish I knew what it was.

I love transfer-ware. I am totally not allowed to start collecting it, ever.

Birdy, birdy why so sad? Maybe he’s a bit claustrophobic in that box!

Ducky nubbins! We had a bunch of the field specimens in the shop,
liberated from some scientist’s or museum’s dusty drawer. I want them all!
Okay, the rest of the week is shaping up to be insane-
lots of interviews, writing and making up for lost time,
so it may be a bit quiet around here, but we shall see!