Sweetgrass Honey
by angeliska on May 21, 2010
“Every place she goes she is picking up the abandoned remnants of other people’s lives.
‘We are dust’ is Monica Canilao’s first New York solo exhibition featuring found antique portraits,
enshrined in the collections she has amassed through time. Everything built is made up of things
abandoned, in a phase of decay. In the manipulation of these orphaned portraits,
gender and identity is blurred, redefined and made fluid. Monica’s compositions
seamlessly meld the old and new: stained paper, withered fabric, and bones
combine with her hands to take part in breathing new life.“ – from Fecal Face
(This photo and the one below both from Fecal Face)
Achtung all me New Yorkian lovelies! There’s only a few more days to catch Monica Canilao’s
gorgeous solo show We Are Dust, at Cinders Gallery in Brooklyn. I am so filled with distaste
for the typical sterile white box gallery, and seeing what Monica has done with the free reign
to transform a space so completely is really inspiring. I love the warmth and intimacy, and the
sense of wandering around inside the artist’s brain. The entire gallery is an installation, rather
than a soulless room created to house individual pieces. I hope to see more shows like this in
the future, and more galleries that are willing to step out of the glorified white cubicles we’ve
become so accustomed to. I feel that art is most effective and affecting when the environment
it’s presented in is created to compliment it, harmonize with it, or as a cohesive part of the whole
experience. I so wish I could be there to see this show, so if you are able, please do go in my stead!
The show is only up until May 30th, so go see it now now now!
This is Monica! (Photo by Faythe Levine)
Also, check out photos of Monica’s Oakland studio –
THROW MORE FACES ON THE FIRE from one of my favorite photographers, Tod Seelie
✸ La Veuve – Paris Gawks Again at the Guillotine
“The artful mayhem — images of severed heads, amputated body parts,
pale blue corpses and damsels with blood on their hands and daggers —
is drawing up to 4,000 people a day, nearly double the usual traffic for special exhibitions. ”
✸ What Every Girl Should Know – About Birth Control
Hop to it, y’all.
✸ Go Ask Ogre, by Jolene Siana (via Lesley Arfin)
I need this book! Jolene Siana wrote letters to Nivek Ogre of Skinny Puppy for nine years, and he read and kept
every single one (doesn’t that just make your inner 14 year old goth girl just MELT?) and one day he mailed them
all back to her in a big box! Holy cats! So she published them all, and I can’t wait to read it and re-live all my own
angsty, black-hearted teenage moments. Did you ever write fan letters to anyone and actually send them?
Did you get a response? I wrote to Francesca Lia Block when I was 17 and lonesome and pregnant in Los Angeles,
and she wrote me back! She’s a life-saver, that lady. I don’t think I ever wrote to anyone else, unless I just scrawled
a little note of thanks and handed it to them. Actually, come to think of it, I handed Francesca my letter at a reading.
I almost feel like people hardly even have mailing addresses anymore. It’s a pity, because tangible letters are so
magical. What will the biographers of the future do? Archive our emails? Lordy, how ridiculous. What a silly world.
Okay, so I know Paris is Burning is sacred, and totally perfect on its own (I hear you, Tara-baby!)
but I am really loving this Crystal Castles appropriation of PiB’s singular magic. This film changed
my life, literally. My dad raised me, and these queens taught me how to be the kind of woman I
wanted to become. I’m completely serious. This is why I often look like a drag queen. Toning it
down to the level I’m at now has taken me YEARS! I still view feminine trappings as drag (and they are!)
✸ Austin Fights! My friend Miguel Angel (uLOVEi) has a new blog of his candid photos
taken during random downtown throwdowns . It’s totally hilarious Weegee-esque shots of
drunken mayhem and bloodthirsty zombie hipsters rolling in the road! It’s the funniest part
of going downtown, viewable from the safety and comfort of your own home. Miguel dodges
the PBR cans and swinging fists so you don’t have to! I can’t help it – I’m always amused by
a street brawl, unless it’s a bashing or super uneven battle. Here’s hoping he gets a catfight soon!
✸ I’m adoring Sighs and Whispers very, very much lately –
how could I not, when she shows me things like Twiggy on the Mermaid Trail
and Daria: Glitter Girl? Utter swoon.
✸ Thirteen words not found in the English language: from Rima at the Hermitage
Some of my favorites:
1. Waldeinsamkeit (German): the feeling of being alone in the woods
5. Esprit de l’escalier (French): a witty remark that occurs to you too late,
literally on the way down the stairs…
6. Meraki (Greek): doing something with soul, creativity, or love
10. Pochemuchka (Russian): a person who asks a lot of questions
11. Tingo (Pascuense language of Easter Island): to borrow objects
one by one from a neighbour’s house until there is nothing left
✸ Strangely Familiar:
Acrobats, Athletes, and Other Traveling Troupes photographs by Michal Chelbin
“Michal Chelbin chooses subjects straight out of our myths and fairytales:
acrobats, ballet dancers, dwarves and athletes. But the people who appear
in this beautiful photobook are far from the enchanted, sequin-spangled stars
of our imagination – these are hard-working performers from small towns,
little-known troupes, and marginalized communities. They’re vulnerable –
we glimpse smears of blood, sweat, bandages, bare feet and scratched chests.
The look in the eyes of even the tiniest (so small she can stand in the palm of a hand)
is world-weary, knowing, and oddly wise.”
– from Lensculture – Photography and Shared Territories
✸ Chinese Boy Has 31 Fingers And Toes
I find his digits very beautiful, and I’m quite jealous. I’ve always wished I had a few extra.
✸ Jonathan Harris photographs Eyjafjallajökull
“That suicide water.
That gurgling ash.
That crazy light.
That neon moss.”
✸ Miss Amy Earles was featured in the LA Weekly’s Art Blog!
Cute Freaky Nurses: Paper Dolls by Amy Earles Go girl!
✸ Mr. Clayton Cubitt raped my tender brainpan with this:
Jaron Albertin – My Dark Horse (and to think it was my reward
for being the only un-tattooed person in Austin. Time to get some ink!)
✸ Patti Smith is People Too! This is best thing ever.
Why can’t it still be the 70’s? This could never, ever happen nowadays.
✸ Stars above, y’all – the new Cocorosie is so mind-bogglingly fantastic!
I’ve been listening to it non-stop while I’ve composed this, and know already
that I’ll be listening to little else for the rest of these warm, insomniac nights.
I become completely nocturnal once the weather gets hot – fruitbats ahoy!
It would be perfect if I wasn’t supposed to be somewhere in the morning,
alas. Anyhow, go get Grey Oceans right his minute and stay up late with me.
✸ By the way, it’s been one month today that the BP Oil Disaster has been
spewing millions upon millions of gallons into the ocean. In case you
weren’t sure about what that means: WE ARE FUCKED. All of us –
not just the poor fisherman, not just the oily birds and the fishes,
not just the coast, but every single one of us. The repercussions
from this are going to ripple out and clobber us in ways we can
barely fathom right now, I feel it. I’m sorry to belabor a point,
but I can’t stop thinking about it, and my heart has been bearing
a deep sorrow every day since this happened. It’s been a rough
couple of weeks in general, really. I think I’d like to spend the
summer hiding in caves behind waterfalls. Care to join me?
Alright, darlings – that’s what I’ve got for you tonight. Anything divine I ought to be looking at, listening to,
reading, watching, drooling over or thinking about? Do tell, I need the cheering! Here’s hoping your weekend
is filled with long, aimless walks, sincere conversations, silvery pegasus-zebra hybrids and heaps of blue hydrangeas!
Magic Windows #13
by angeliska on May 18, 2010
These red shoes are so silly. I fell over putting them on the other night.
Falling down is so funny — I think it’s good to do every once in a while.
It always reminds me of being a child — up one minute and down the next.
These are cheap, pleathery heels that I’ve already messed up, alas.
Would you like them better if I reeled off the name of your favorite designer,
or if they cost $300 dollars? I like the laser-cut pinwheel pattern, and I’m
always craving naughty red heels. I also like that they cost $20 bucks and
that I don’t feel particularly bad about messing them up. I do feel bad about
the fact that the plastic used to make them smells like chemical death, and
the fact that they were most likely definitely made in a sweat shop. Things to
think about. Is your consumerism affected more by your ethics, or by your
pocketbook? I’m not passing judgement – just curious. I buy a lot of cheap
crap, but I also love well-made things. I do try to think about where things
come from, and try to be aware. Have you ever boycotted a business or
a company based on their ethics? I remember crying while watching
the documentary about Wal-Mart, and thinking I’d never shop there again.
I broke that promise one late night when I was desperate to play Scrabble.
I should have held out for the deluxe edition anyway. (Just in case you didn’t
know, I’m a giant nerd, hi.) Also, are you on Facebook? Thinking about quitting it?
The other day, I was feeling blue. Then this strawberry tart happened to me!
It came from Enoteca, the delicious bistro down the street from where I work.
I’m pretty sure it had medicinal properties, or certainly magical powers.
I love these Japanese dolls. I think their hair is human. Some of it is falling out.
Juanita -1944- “I’ll say it again – sad, sad as hell”
Who were you Juanita? Why were you so sad, and sassy and
covered in stuffed animals? Are you wearing a romper under there,
or nothing at all? This is a page from her scrapbook. Reading all her
funny comments in white ink made me think I’d like her. Mystery people.
FROZEN MEMORIES of FARAWAY YEARS
It’s getting hot here, after a magically long and cool spring.
I’m holding out on shutting the windows and cranking the
air conditioner. Tonight, there was a thunderstorm that brought
cold air and made me remember what it’s like to feel chilly.
I bought this collection of Aubrey Beardsley books recently, because I was
so charmed by their covers. Don’t mind the old adage! I’ve already got lots
of Beardsley books, but aren’t these wonderful? I couldn’t resist. The vibrant
colors and neo-nouveau graphic design popular in the 1970’s gets me every
time. I’ve always used the Albano version of the Rider-Waite Pamela Colman
Smith tarot deck — the colors are brighter and richer, and more psychedelic!
A while back, I found this box of Beardsley matches! Oh Ali Baba! I meant
to break up the set and send boxes to friends in parcels, but I haven’t been
able to do it! It’s too good! I should probably sell it, because all I do is gaze
at it in wonder. I have a lot of useful objects that are too decorative to use.
If this box of Golden Peacock Tonic Powder wasn’t empty, I think I’d use it!
Soyons Descrets! This is my paper journal — don’t you wish you could see inside?
I’m not an especially private person (yeah, obviously) so perhaps I’ll show some
of it sometime. I’ve been trying to write in it more. One day, I want to have a tea
party where everyone brings big stacks of their journals and diaries, and puts
them all in the middle of the floor and then grabs some others at random to read.
Just a quiet party where everyone reads everyone else’s diary. Is that weird?
I don’t care! I’m nosy, and I love looking at handwriting and delving into the brains
of my friends. Also, I believe that if you have a secret that you don’t want anyone
to know, don’t write it down. Unless you burn it after, I suppose. Or you could send
it in to Post Secret. I never have any good ones. No secrets keeps me light.
AZZ EVERYWHERE #2!
by angeliska on May 11, 2010
It’s time for AZZ EVERYWHERE #2!
This time we’re bringing…wait for it…
BIG FREEDIA!
The Queen Diva!
The Late Night Creepa!
The Dick-Eata!
You betta Beleeeva!
Straight Outta New Orleans –
That Girl gonna make your booty go!
Are you ready to show her what you learned in bounce class,
or from your friends who went?
We’re gonna twerk it all night with
DJ Rusty Lazer + DJ Chicken Kiev
spinning the best NOLA Bounce music for you
to get all sweaty and nasty to!
Plus new & devastatingly gorgeous
Aerial Performance by
Miss Marion Ette of Mystic Pony from New Orleans!
Hostessed AND Mostessed by the lovely Miss Angeliska!
ALSO! Amazingtown-super-hyper-killer projection magic
from Miz Lau-Lau of the Recspec! She blew our eyeballs inside out
last time, and she’s gonna do it again! Wear your safety glasses!
Thursday, May 13th – 10pm-4am
$7 at the door – at The ND 501 Brushy + East 5th
See you there!
This was, without a doubt Christeene‘s most spectacular performance to date!
She and her dancers killed it, utterly. It’s like if G.G. Allin had a nasty tranny
sister-baby-lady-man that lived on the streets with her sweaty + hairy antlered
panda-men! You really have to see her in action to fully understand, and I hope
you get the pleasure sometime soon! You might have to take a shower after.
Cute Azzzzz!
Oh Elaine! What a beautiful laughing, dancing magic woman she is!
Amelia and Penny lookin’ fine
Miss Marion Ette doing her first routine – beautiful aerial dancer!
Her second piece was done to Ice Cream Paint Job! So freakin’ cute!
Miss Altercation taught an amazing bounce dance class before the show,
she’s such a pro – I can’t wait for her to come back here and teach us more!
See more photos from the first Azz Everywhere here:
AZZ EVERYWHERE!
and also photos from The Peen Scene:
Azz Everywhere at The Independent
Poisoned Honey on Blackout Beach
by angeliska on May 7, 2010
(Paintings by Myrtle Von Damitz III ,
a New Orleans artist and amazing lady. Her work is prophetic, and speaks to me about
what the elemental spirits might be whispering about what we are doing.)
Tonight, my grandfather, my sweetheart and I went to eat oysters.
We wanted to taste the last fruits of the Gulf before they are gone,
possibly forever. Succulent, roly-poly shrimp and fat loaves of catfish
all crisped in batter, two-dozen raw and glistening grey jewels on a
bed of ice. Our waitress at the Shuck Shack answering our hard
questions about the future of seafood restaurants, the future of
the ecosystem with a tremor in her voice and that weird, fucked-up
nervous laugh that I keep hearing from people when we’re talking
about the bleak and monstrous thing that we have done. Yes, we.
We are all complicit in this. We are all a part of this. A book came
in the mail for me today, and as I came home hunting already for
the words I want to nail down here, I took a minute to crack it open
and take a quick look. This is the first thing I found there:
“It’s 3:23 in the morning
and I’m awake
because my great great grandchildren
won’t let me sleep
my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the planet was plundered?
what did you do when the earth was unraveling?
surely you did something
when the seasons started failing?
as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying?
did you fill the streets with protest
when democracy was stolen?
what did you do
once
you
knew?”
–Drew Dellinger, “Hieroglyphic Stairway”
From “Nature and the Human Soul”
by Bill Plotkin
Tonight, I’m up late. Like Drew, I cannot sleep —
though I am very tired. I’ve never felt so helpless
to do anything useful in the face of such a vast
spoiling. I’ll re-shave half my head, my lover’s head,
my fluffy dogs and bag it up and mail it in hopes that
a part of me and those I love might soak up a tiny bit
of that poison. The poison that fuels my world, that
gets me to work everyday. I sit here hallucinating that I can
smell a whiff of crude on the breeze, knowing that folks
in Mid-City (NOLA) already can. The fertile delta is being
getting kicked in the cunt, repeatedly. Have you ever been
to the coastal wetlands? Do you know what a flock of egrets
looks like? White-white shaded red against the black and twisted
cypress castles in the sunset, the sound their wings make rising up
from the swamp, all at once. Rails, gallinules, and snipe slathered
in oil, eyes blistering. It makes me think of the first trip I made to the
Gulf when I was small. Port Aransas family vacation desperation,
scrappy sad sea-town with sad sea-shell shops that stunk of brine
and pina-colada. Bon Jovi’s Blaze of Glory on every radio, stirring
the first throbs of pubescently painful longing. I was the fetal shark
stuck in the jar at the front desk of the scab-hole, flea-bag motel we stayed at.
Noisy old mold-smelling air-conditioner and sand in the carpet, MTV on every
minute. Walking the apocalyptic beach every day, and finding nothing
but death. Sting-rays, countless fish and birds, and the pulsing, hypnotic
cobalt jellyfish. All rotting, rotten. I was thinking something must’ve happened,
but no one could tell me. I tried overcoming my fear of something sharp touching
my leg in the water and then tugging me down, and let myself be carried out far.
The brown water too warm, like salt-coffee, mud-sea. The bobbing and tar-smell
made me nauseous, but the sight of men fishing off the pier nearby reassured me.
Later, I walked up to see what they were catching so many of. Hammerheads, big ones.
The most pre-historic and vicious of fishes, pulled up from right were I had been
dumbly treading water moments before. Blackout Beach is what I’ve been listening
to over and over while writing this. The perfect soundtrack for my heart’s bleak moments,
and for dark nights in general. Really, really good stuff. It’s Ass Saw the Angel on Ketamine.
Carey Mercer‘s lyrics make me wish he wrote books as well. More albums will suffice
for the nonce, though. I’m doing what I always do in times like these: I stay up late reading
everything I can find, poring over diagrams, fretting, wishing I had a whiskey, being glad
I don’t smoke anymore (because I’d be through a pack by now) and trying desperately to
write. To get it out of me, and out to you. An exorcism, and a hope that even through some
awareness, there could be a chance at helping. So, here’s a slew of what I’ve been reading
and looking at. Check it out, and at the very least, focus some of your consciousness on what’s
happening right now — and while you’re at it, please spare a thought for poor Tennessee,
seeing the images prickles my neck, it’s so familiar. Drowned cities. This earth, she’s a snake.
She’s being pierced with arrows, curled into a ball, biting her own tail from the pain, and now
rising up in anguish, her back rippling and knocking askew settlements nestled into her corded
muscles. Her hips buck up, and she’s thrashing, drooling and panting, tears and blood streaming
out in great gouts and overflowing the banks. How long until she shakes us off for good?
✸ Deepwater Horizon Response – Gulf of Mexico-Transocean Drilling Incident
✸ New Orleans Journal – As Oil Spill Looms, a City Plays the Waiting Game Again
✸ The Gulf oil spill blame game
“If you are searching for the perfect metaphor to describe humanity’s 21st century plight —
an energy-hungry and energy-dependent civilization occupying a resource-constrained planet —
then you need look no further than at a satellite photo of the giant spreading oil slick in the Gulf
of Mexico. That massive hydrocarbon stain is our collective scarlet letter, the price we pay for a
lifestyle of extraordinary affluence and comfort — at least as compared to most of the humans
who have ever lived.” – from Salon.com
✸ Sierra Club: “Oil spill is America’s Chernobyl”
✸ Sunset, Mississippi Gulf Coast near Waveland, 2008
“Katrina. The plight of poor working people. The Great Recession. The BP oil spill.
These aren’t just incidents, or accidents, or unfortunate circumstances.
I’m not saying they’re a conspiracy either. I’m saying they’re all a byproduct of a system
which is deeply, fundamentally broken, and increasingly can produce no other results.”
-from Clayton Cubitt’s amazing blog
✸ Photographs of the oil spill approaching Louisiana coast
✸ Just in case you can’t quite get your mind around it (I know I can’t),
the good folks at GOOD have provided us with this horrifying bit of perspective –
Infographic: The Size of the Oil Spill
✸ BP using toxic chemicals to ‘disperse’ spilled oil
✸ Black Death: Will Fisheries Survive the Oil Spill?
✸ Tracking the Oil Spill
A map of the extent of the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, day by day.
(Photograph by Karen Glaser)
from her breathtaking Springs and Swamps collection)
I can’t stop myself from thinking about what’s going to happen when this shit permeates
the bayous. No more crawdads, man. Looking at these gorgeous underwater shots from
Karen Glaser makes me weep for places that were far from pristine a month ago — now
soon to be poisoned beyond all saving. I’m really not sure if a lot of people are comprehending
how majorly fucked we are. This is going to have far-reaching, and long-lasting effects,
and the ripple’s going to touch you at some point. Next time you put a piece of seafood
into your mouth, consider where it came from. Consider the water it lived in. Even if you
don’t eat animals (which I respect, but can’t quite manage), or never considered the Gulf
of Mexico or its wetlands as important (they are), this is going to affect you. A good friend
of mine drove down to the Gulf coast the other day, to see it with her own eyes, and to
say goodbye before it’s ruined forever. She says denial is the general state of mind of
the people she’s met down there. What are the 5 stages of grief? When are we going
to get angry? I’m there, but what will it do? Help me write all this out, I guess.
Or, here’s some things we can do to help:
✸ Oil Spill Volunteers
✸ GREATER NEW ORLEANS FOUNDATION OPENS GULF COAST OIL SPILL FUND
“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none–
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.
– The Walrus and The Carpenter
Lewis Carroll
(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)
Puppy Love
by angeliska on May 4, 2010
Sometimes you wake up to a gorgeous, brilliant day
but things just don’t fit together right, and what’s happening
in your heart doesn’t jive with the cool breeze tangling in your
hair, or the baby birds singing, because you’ve argued with
someone you love and you can’t stop thinking about how
we’re irrevocably destroying this beautiful planet.
I’m preparing some musings on this latter subject for
posting later, but for now I just need a little cheering up.
How about you? You know what makes me feel happy
when I feel sad? Doggies! My dogs in particular, but pups
in general tend to make me follow their example in life
and forget my cares and just concentrate on what’s good,
like belly rubs and snuffling and prancing. My dogs are
really, really good at all of those things. The funny thing
is that I was never, ever a dog person until a few years
ago. I grew up with a big, sweet pit bull named Dot who always
wanted to be right in the middle of all my intricate games of
doll-dress up or castle-building and loved to slobber obnoxiously
all over my face. She was an amazing dog who gave me a big
soft-spot for pit-bulls (don’t trust the hype! They are wonderful
dogs!) If you don’t believe, just consult Gala and Hank! See?
(drawing by Brad Neely)
I used to work at Toy Joy, (the best toy store in the world).
So did Brad Neely, though he left a few months before
I started, so we never met. I came to adore him through these amazing signs
and doodles he left in his wake. This sign endorsing the hobby of vampire
dog-massage was hung up by the false mustaches. I have no idea what it
was originally meant to promote, but it’s one of my favorite things ever.
If you’re not familiar with his genius, go check out his work and this:
When I was in middle-school, I lived in a neighborhood with
lots of trailer-trash dogs. Mean, embittered Rotties and Chows
hell-bent on getting a taste of teenage ankle. We’d sneak out
late at night and walk around aimlessly, smoking and vandalizing
things and they were the monsters we skirted. They’d freak us out
by barking ferociously, alerting all to the fact that we were shimmying
out of our bedroom windows. Being chased by a dog while riding a
bike is one of the scariest things ever. I only got bit by a dog once, and
I guess it was sort of my fault. I got off the school bus one day, and this
little kid with a kool-aid and BBQ-sauce mottled face invited me to peer
under his trailer to see his new puppies. The protective mama mutt bolted
out from the shadows like a pudgy arrow and attached herself to my leg,
ripping my dad’s ugly green corduroy pants I’d taken to wearing everyday.
(I was in that adolescent phase of wearing your dad’s oversized, ugly old
clothes and being incredibly awkward. Remember that?) It left a nasty bruise
and some punctures, and taught me something about not messing with wild
mamas and their young. Years later, I found myself in New York working for
a few months. There was a period of time during my stay there that I felt
incredibly isolated and cut-off from my fellow humans. I was unused to the
lack of eye-contact and greeting that big city folk tend to protect their souls
with. I’m from the South, and we say hello when we pass you on the street.
Everybody had their walls up to me except for the street-people and the dogs.
The dogs were always happy to see me, eager to smell me and get to know me
whilst their owners would tug at leashes and roll their eyes, in a hurry to get on
with the business of walking. My feelings about dogs were changing, and I
began to respect and appreciate them in a way that I never really had.
This is me with Dougal and Selma the Sideshow dogs and constant
companions of Harry and Elizabeth Anderson. I liked it when people misheard Dougal’s
name as “Doodles”, so that’s what I called him. They would get so excited
to see me that they would pee a little bit. Now, that’s enthusiasm!
This illustration by Marjorie Moore reminds me of Grrizelda and I.
I’d been a cat person my whole life, but after my best cat-friend
Junior died after 21 years of companionship, I just don’t know
that I will find that kind of connection again. Don’t get me wrong –
I love our kitties Loki and Rusty Jack-knife (except when they’re
doing very evil things like knocking in the ceiling and slaughtering
baby birds) I never imagined I would have that kind of deep
bond with a canine. I never had a dog of my very own before, and
it’s pretty intense. It’s a bit like having a furry child that can’t really speak.
I am so grateful for the love and loyalty our dogs give us – I wish we could
go to the pound and adopt 20 more. One day. Walk out in the woods with
your dog, or be with them late at night when you’re alone in the house.
If they’re worth a damn, they will always let you know when they smell or
hear something that we can’t. Even the littlest dog will throw themselves
at a much bigger opponent to protect the one they love. That’s so amazing
to me, and such an inspiration. I’ve been thinking a lot about the way that
humans and animals can transfer love and healing to each other – have
you experienced that before? Whether it’s your cat making biscuits of ecstasy
on you, and purring like a motor or your dog wagging and dancing in
apoplectic spasms of joy to see you come home, I feel that there’s something
deeper going on there. I’m really interested in the beneficial effects of spending
time with animals for the ill and elderly. Have you heard about these studies on
dogs sniffing out cancer? Amazing. I think they make us better people. I hope so.
Also, sometimes you can dress them up as elephants! My dog lets me floss
her teeth. Can you believe that? I barely can. We’ve been training her to be
patient and tolerant of bathing, foot-handling and now maybe even
tooth-brushing? (Okay, I just tried it, and she totally let me brush her teeth!
Best dog ever!) Something else I just thought of — dogs in other cities are
different. On Lamma Island in Hong Kong, all the dogs I encountered were
totally indifferent to me. They ran in dirty packs of smallish scrappers, similar
to the curs of Mexico, though the Mexican beach dogs are far friendlier.
We had a pack adopt us in Tulum, and their leader, El Jackalito even
followed us to a neighboring village. French dogs seemed quite snobby
to me (though I found the people I met in France to be very sweet and
personable!) What can you tell me about the dogs of the world? Do you
like dogs? Do you have a dog of your own? Tell me a dog story, please!
Oh, and I was just alerted to this:
Antique Pups from Teenangster
(Thank you Oola!)
Further reading:
Dog Days
Corazones quebrados y perros ciegos
Ortolan Honey
by angeliska on April 26, 2010
(Painting by Remedios Varo)
Are you ready for a journey through the wilds of my brain, via l’internet?
Let’s go! Oh, but first — I can’t stop singing this song:
There Goes a Tenner (Tara got it stuck there!)
It might be my very favorite Kate Bush song. Maybe.
“Ooh, I remember
That rich, windy weather
When you would carry me,
Pockets floating
In the breeze.”
Best lyrics, ever.
Marry me, Kate.
✶ I’m very excited to hear that The Invention of Hugo Cabret
will be made into a film soon (directed by Scorsese, in 3D no less!)
It’s really a little redundant, as the book is such a work of wonder.
If you’ve not come across it yet, I entreat you to do so — promptly!
✶ Also, I’m waiting with baited breath for this:
THE THOUSAND AUTUMNS OF JACOB DE ZOET by David Mitchell
Mitchell is probably my favorite living author. For real.
✶ B. Traven: A Mystery Solved
I’ve been totally absorbed in this fascinating BBC Documentary
about the elusive author, thanks to Rusty Lazer who turned me
on to his books in a late-night kitchen-table mind-meld recently.
I realized after hearing a description of this man, that the author
in Roberto Bolaño’s 2666 had to be based on none other!
I just bought The Savage Detectives today.
My summer reading list is gettin’ real tasty — blankets and margaritas and books, ahoy!
✶ Does anyone here remember this movie playing on television all the time?:
“Just One Of The Guys, the 1985 crossdressing teen comedy that
seamlessly integrated boob shots and gender discrimination critiques”
This movie made a huge impression on me when I was wee! I loved it, a lot.
✶ WILD WOMAN: TALLULAH BANKHEAD
I love Tallulah — hooray for Violetville!
✶ If you’ve ever asked a doctor if you could keep a piece of your body
they’ve recently extracted, or if you’re obsessed with the ballet, (or
my case, both apply) then you absolutely must read this article:
A Ballerina, Inside Out – by Toni Bentley
“A ballet dancer goes onstage on a given night, in a specific theater,
in a specific ballet and executes, in a specific fraction of musical time
a movement that is already past just as it appears. And it takes far more
than 10,000 hours of practice and repetition to make this movement exquisite,
worthy. A dancer’s entire career consists of these moments of non-existence;
they are not even fleeting, they are, somehow, never there at all,
a shadow in someone else’s mind at best.”
So brilliant. Many thanks to Odette O. for sending me the link!
She’s also the one that turned me on to this – (which I must see!):
✶ The Desert of Forbidden Art
“How does art survive in a time of oppression? During the Soviet rule
artists who stay true to their vision are executed, sent to mental hospitals or Gulags.
Their plight inspires young Igor Savitsky. He pretends to buy state-approved art
but instead daringly rescues 40,000 forbidden fellow artist’s works and creates
a museum in the desert of Uzbekistan, far from the watchful eyes of the KGB.
Though a penniless artist himself, he cajoles the cash to pay for the art from
the same authorities who are banning it. Savitsky amasses an eclectic mix
of Russian Avant-Garde art. But his greatest discovery is an unknown school
of artists who settle in Uzbekistan after the Russian revolution of 1917,
encountering a unique Islamic culture, as exotic to them as Tahiti was for Gauguin.
They develop a startlingly original style, fusing European
modernism with centuries-old Eastern traditions.”
See also: ART; In a Far Desert, a Startling Trove of Art
✶ 36 chilling photos of last Wednesday’s earthquake in Yushu, China (via brainpickings)
So many earthquakes. Volcanos. The end times are feelin’ kinda nigh, eh?
✶ This is one of my very favorite Siouxsie and the Banshees songs:
– Il Est Né le Divin Enfant (It’s a very grainy rip of a televised performance
of a French Christmas carol that was the b-side to 1982’s “Melt!”)
(Thank you, dear Monsieur Scythrop!)
✶ I love, love, love, love this:
Marina Abramović Made Me Cry
Thanks for the link, Tavi and thank you for your work Marina!
✶ New favorite blog: Ephemera Assemblyman
✶ Loving this: Miu Miu in Japan from Mlle. Clever Nettle!
✶ Other new favorite blog: Crappy Taxidermy
It’s my favorite kind! The rattier and weirder, the better.
✶ Okay, and one more thing:
LOST Tarot Cards by Alex Griendling
(These are beautifully designed!
Hi, I collect tarot decks and I’m a dork. Gimme.)
What are you reading/singing/loving right now? Do tell!
Magic Windows #12
by angeliska on April 20, 2010
Hooray, it’s Magic Windows time! It’s been the most
gorgeous, luscious spring here – the last few days
have been stormy and sullen (in a really enticing
way!) Normally, I’m not a fan of gray and gloomy
weather, but the rain has made it okay for me to
stay in and write during the day without feeling
too guilty about not being outside in the glorious
riot of blossoms that is our garden. I have a block
against staring at a screen when it’s a pretty day,
and recently I’ve been incapacitated by Spring
Fever! Sitting at my desk, trying to meet a deadlines
set me to squirming in my chair like hyper-active
second grader. Has anyone else been experiencing
this? All I want to do lately is play outside!
I just wanna be this guy:
Isn’t this the most amazing painting? I’m cursing myself for
not buying it when I had the chance. Luckily, I got to take a
picture before it was swept away. Look at the giant grasshopper!
I just want to hang out with big green bugs and talking irises and be five.
Can that be arranged? Thanks. Damn, why isn’t this painting mine? Foolish!
Here’s another wonderfully naive iris painting. I love the bare trees in the
background and the crackling paint. It’s kind of sweet and depressing all
at the same time. We get some really great artworks by mysterious painters
in the shop fairly often. I have the urge to start collecting some of them,
but I know what a slippery slope that is! My collections are already pretty
out of hand as it is. But, still. I guess if I had nabbed the first creepy iris
painting, I would’ve had to get this one too, right? That’s a pretty obscure
genre: weird iris paintings! I suppose it’s really for the best. Alas, alack.
Instead, how about I collect real irises, and iris perfume?
I remember endlessly poring over iris catalogues with my
mama. Even then, I was obsessed with the pure black and
bright blue irises, the odd green ones and the bi-colors and
tiger striped ones. I love their regal beards and crazy names.
Irises are pretty metal, as far as flowers go. Case in point,
the one I can’t wait to order for my metal-loving blacksmith
boyfriend: Anvil of Darkness! Hell yes. We’re going to have
the most hardcore garden. So far, we have some lovely purple irises
that Violet planted, and white ones from our sweet botanist friend.
I have to wait until Fall to plant more, so in the meantime I’ve been
dabbling with Iris scents. I’d always wanted to try Bois d’Iris
by The Different Company, but I have to say – it’s just not ringing my bells.
The notes are: iris, vetiver, bergamot, cedar, narcissus, geranium and musk,
but I’m only getting old lady. My favorite perfume blog, Now Smell This
describes the sensation of wearing Bois d’Iris as “…closer to being in an
undergound tunnel, with the smell of damp wood and roots.”
I wish I could agree, as I feel like I’m missing the damp and earthen
root smell I crave. In Le Labo Iris 39 sounds more my style with iris
“as earthy and inviting as a rundown house with a wild garden”
I’d also love to try Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist one day,
though it’s probably too civilized for a beast like me.
“For Iris Silver Mist, for instance, the idea came to him
in a Moroccan bookshop that he should look for an iris
so refined, so almost grey, that it could be worn by a man
in a grey flannel suit as easily as by woman.
— From Seducer of The Senses,
a long profile of Serge Lutens in the Financial Times.
Sodden rose-petals on the front porch. Cross your fingers that it keeps
raining all spring. We need it! Our roses are going crazy – busting out
in fuschia and lavender all over the place. I do love me some wild roses.
I think these look like pomegranate kernels, do you see it too?
Mlle. Verhext’s sweetheart + husband to be, Mr. Lee
sent us the sweetest parcel filled with mangosteens (aka. mogwai eggs!)
and (holy cats) Amorphophallus konjac corms! We are going to have voodoo lilies!
Hello, dream come true! On a much graver note,
please, please send good finding energy to Tam’s friend Alex.
She’s been missing for almost a week now. If you’re in the Bay
Area, or have friends that are, please take a minute to re-post
the information about her. I can tell that she’s an amazing person,
and my heart is clenched up wondering where she is.
More treasures from Uncommon Objects:
the best rabbit brooch ever, a very handsome pocketwatch,
and some Victorian woven-hair mourning jewelry. I want it all.
Oh, and here’s another intriguing painting from the shop! Luckily,
my friend and colleague Jeff bought this one, so I can go visit it.
It was painted by a man named Richard Wilt,
in 1951. Jeff was so intrigued by it that he looked up some information,
and ended up talking on the phone to Richard’s widow! She remembered
the piece well, and was very happy to talk about her husband’s work.
Everything we come in contact with at Uncommon Objects has a story –
sometimes we make them up, but sometimes we get to solve mysteries.
Often, I can hold something old and let it tell me its story. Have you ever
had that sensation? Psychometry. I’d like to get better at it. By the way,
I really love my job – I’m super lucky to be able to work in such a creative
place that’s constantly stimulating my imagination with magic, history and art.
I’ve worked some awful jobs in the past though, and I wish I had read this
back then: ordinary magic – part 2 (via Lorra Faye and Gala Darling – thanks ladies!)
Feral Honey
by angeliska on April 14, 2010
Here’s a mosaic of some images that I’m very much in love with right now:
1. halloween, by Annie Alonzi, 2. flowers, by Annie Alonzi, 3. Moth Mask, by Jhaan,
4. remember this by Annie Alonzi, 5. thanksgiving, by Annie Alonzi,
6. rare, by Annie Alonzi, 7. Untitled, by Lady Havisham, 8. Old Curiosities, by Lady Havisham,
9. close, by Annie Alonzi, 10. breakfasttime, by Annie Alonzi, 11. shadow, by Amy Earles,
12. Scar’s room, by Nadya Lev, 13. 32, by Nadya Lev, 14. [unknown], by Renee Dhoa,
15. front window, by Tamera Ferro, 16. Saw Whet on the Moss, by Big Brother Bear
As you can see, it’s most artwork by friends – particularly that of my
very dear friend Miss Annie Alonzi. She is amazing. I think she might
have revealed her true nature in the upper left hand photo, which I
am seriously obsessed with staring at. It makes me want to only dress
as beasts from now on. Not in like, a furry way. I guess. Um. Yeah,
anyways! Her artwork is extremely gorgeous, and she makes me
very happy all the time. Also, she has a friend named Soda Pies.
I think this week’s honeyed round-up is all about wild things,
forgotten places and people. I have long held a deep fascination
with feral children, raised by animals or no one at all. It all started
with Genie, for me, years and years ago. I need to write about her
properly and also show you the amazing doll Pandora made for my
birthday last year. She’s almost too special to share, but I think it’s
important, so I will – eventually. Back in New Orleans, in 2002, we
were doing our big Dada Balls. As hostess for each one, I would
build a character, and inhabit that persona for the entire night.
Who knew that the most difficult one would be the Feral Child?
I had hoped, that by embodying this wild being, that professors
and nurses would emerge – that I would encounter those who
would want to teach me, tame me, civilize me. Oh no. That was
not the case at all! No doubt, I was exasperating – scampering
over the tables. Wordless, howling, scratching, stealing things
and all – but I really imagined that some kind soul would take
me in hand and try and at least teach me language, or manners.
Mostly, I was treated like a bad dog. I didn’t speak a word all night,
and it was quite an experience. I recommend simulated lycanthropy
as an experiment for everyone, but just maybe not at a wild party
like I did. Especially not if there are raging rednecks who threaten
to knock your jaw in for lapping up their whiskey and getting your
muddy footprints all over the bar. A word to the wise, civilize!
Me as a girl raised by wolves.
Feral forever!
★ Eva Hornung has a new novel out, entitled Dog Boy,
that I am very curious to read. A review and excerpt are here:
‘Dog Boy’: The Complicated Humanity Of A Wild Child
(via Odette O.)
★ I adore thisCanadian insect collector who eats his specimens
Georges Brossard: “I dream about them, I eat them – I love bugs”
(also via Odette O, with thanks!)
★ Have you ever seen the mysterious olm?
Here’s some footage of the olm, a blind salamander
that lives in the Balkan caves. (via le Curio Cabinet)
★ Jugend, 1899 – you want to know what does it for me?
Symbolist magazine illustrations, that’s what.
★ A happy new blogly/photo/local-lady discovery: Search and Smoke
★ Atlas Obscura is the best thing ever, if you love traveling and exploring
the most bizarre and amazing places, that is. Even if you’re not in position
to travel anytime soon, you almost feel like you have after you spend awhile
perusing the wonders they have found for us. Lots of strange and wondrous
abandoned places! Such as: the once luxurious abandoned Prince’s house
in Abkhazia, and an entire island off of Japan, once densely populated
now abandoned – Gunkanjima Island. There’s also this very sad place,
Oradour – a French ghost town from World War II,
left as a memorial to German atrocities
★ “People talk in private about their dreams dying right now
due to economic contraction. But few will talk publicly.”
Arthur Magazine has an interesting article about talking openly
about the recession: DOES IT HURT? by Jay Babcock
★ One the other end of that spectrum, I want every single thing
on Gala’s Current Crushes Shopping List. Just so you know.
★ Oh my goodness, look at this uncovered gem:
Tom Waits on Fernwood Tonight in the late 1970’s
(via brainpicker extraordinaire, Maria Popova)
I just have to say: holy goddamn moly, Tom –
what a beautiful man you are! Look at those
gorgeous long fingers! He just kills me.
AZZ EVERYWHERE!
by angeliska on April 11, 2010
The weather’s getting warmer, the bees are buzzing
and all the butts I know are gettin’ itchy for a little
rump-shakin’! I don’t know about you, but if I don’t
get my dance on fairly regularly I start getting a mite
tetchy. Shaking it loose it often the only cure for a slew
of ailments, including but not limited to: the mean reds,
the dirty blues, scurvy, gout and neuralgia. It’s true.
So we can’t help ourselves, we’re putting on another
dance party – this coming Friday! Be there, sassafrassies!
This one’s gonna be extra special, because not only is
my sweet brother Rusty Lazer coming all the way from New
Orleans, but he’s also bringing Miss Marion Ette to wow you
with her aerial dance skills, and Miss Altercation to teach you
all her moves! Ever wanted to learn how to twerk it right?
Here’s your chance: as of right now we still have 19 spaces
left for the A Bounce Dance Class with Miss Altercation herself!
It starts at 9pm, you gotta pre-register, and spaces are filling up!
Sliding scale- 10-20 bucks, for one hour. Send an email to:
bounceclass@gmail.com now to register!
Cost of the class includes FREE admission to the PARTY!
At 10pm we open the doors and roll out sets from
DJ Rusty Lazer
Christeene
DJ Chicken Kiev
Plus a very special aerial performance by Miss Marion Ette!
Hostessed by your very own Miss Angeliska!
Presented by the insatiable Glitoris!
Friday, April 16th at The Independent (ND, 501 Studios)
located at East 5th + Brushy.
This is gonna be a hot hot mess, dress appropriately,
or inappropriately if you got it and you wanna flaunt it!
More info and RSVP over on the Facebook.
Until then, here’s some dance party videos to get you in the mood:
Miss Altercation, Rocky and ReRe dancing
with Katey Red at Gay Bi Gay Gay 2010
Ass Everywhere from Nathan Brescia on Vimeo.
Super-fun times in Detroit!
Christeene! So very, very NSFW, okay?
5TH WARD WEEBIE & YA BOY BIG CHOO
Learn all these moves, and you’ll be alright!
Magic Windows #11
by angeliska on April 6, 2010
A miraculous thing happened the other day – my sweetheart found a magical dumpster
filled with all sorts of wonderful things. The very best was this killer cotton candy maker:
As you can see, it works very well indeed. The process is quite magical, like
there’s a big spider hidden in the hot coil that spools the sugar out into clouds.
We made pink peppermint and blue lavender candyfloss, and it was the prettiest
and tastiest we’d ever had. We even started making it with turbinado sugar, so
we could feel a little less guilty about playing herds of children with it. Needless
to say, whoever was operating the cotton candy machine was the star of the
Easter party! The little yickens were totally transfixed, sugar maniacs in heaven.
Colin is so happy and proud of his sweet machine! Adorable, adored.
He also found me this cake-shaped porcelain vase in the same dumpster!
Gene Tierney presents it for our delectation. She lives on my lavatory door.
The sweetest little duckling that was gifted to me for my birthday made her
way onto my Easter bonnet – photographic evidence to follow!
I love the illustration style from this 1920’s children’s book so much.
The graceful branches, the owls and lanterns!
The pastel cicadas and the full moon. It sends me.
This little poem from the same book is a keeper, too.
Check out this kick-ass Ozma of Oz tattoo! She’s basically my very first style
icon. I still am obsessed with that style of headdress. I need to make more!
We rolled out of bed after far too little sleep for the free matinee
showing of The Dark Crystal at the Alamo Drafthouse recently.
Can you believe this skeksis lamp? I cannot. The lightbulb looks
like a purple shard! It was so fantastic seeing this film on the big
screen! It’s such a work of genius! I’m so inspired by the creatures
in this film. If by some shocking twist of fate, you’ve managed never
to see it – then I adjure you to remedy that immediately. Okay?
