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!
Languishing in New York
by angeliska on September 16, 2009
(From the collection of Mark Dion and Dana Sherwood)
I arrived in the city soundly,
despite Mercury’s meddlings
(delays, insane turbulence)
and headed straight from the airport
to the Hungarian House where my
beloved Zlatne Uste Balkan Brass Band
and The Luminescent Orchestrii featuring
my old friend Sxip Shirey were tearing it up.
It was a great show, packed with enthusiastic
dancers of all ages, doing a traditional circle
dance. Apparently they do this every Wednesday
night! Lots of teensy little old elfin ladies and gents
were putting me to shame on the dance floor.
I hope I’m still frolicking like that when I get ancient!
(Stinky Herman the hedgehog hangs out near a Galliano Diptyque
candle, hoping his musty death-smell will not offend passersby)
As soon as I rolled into town, I started going out every night-
dancing until dawn at the Rubulad Boat Party, and the next
evening at Disko Nouveaux, which no doubt contributed to
my run down system. Combine that with allergies, climate change
and general neglect, and it’s no wonder I’m sick as a damn dog.
I’m trying not to be despondent, and just hope to kick it soonly,
but my sinuses are just built wrong or something- and this sort
of thing tends to linger. Acupuncture appointment in Chinatown
is set for tomorrow, plus a visit to Congee Village! The horror
of not being able to smell or really enjoy food, (not to mention
feeling snot-ridden and unglamourous) is a bit of a problem.
How am I going to haunt the hallowed halls of Aedes de Venusta
and I Hate Perfume with a blocked-up nose faucet? Really, now.
(Dana and Mark have more Victorian taxidermy than anyone I know.
Quite an impressive collection, amassed on their various travels.)
Other highlights so far have included an immense steak dinner
at Peter Luger’s, walking home from the train at dawn, hearing
the multitude of birds singing in the eaves of a grand theatre
turned church. Getting very lost with the Tibetan lady who
was my cabdriver- the ineffable experience of connecting
on a deep level with total strangers in this huge/tiny city.
She gave me a yellow rose. The same night, I happened
to sit down next to the lovely Miss A., and offered her a
Choward’s Violet Pastille. Hours later, our wonderful
conversation unabated, I remembered the mantra I set
for myself as I was preparing for this trip: BE OPEN
— to experiences, to people, to the energy of the city.
So far, it’s served me very well indeed, as I’ve met some
wonderful people I never would’ve encountered by being
shut off. It’s so easy to pull down the shade here, to not
interact, not make eye contact. You’re never alone here,
even when you want to be, so people make that privacy
for themselves — so as not to go completely mad!
Too often, however, that solitude becomes complete —
a black impenetrable wall of protection, and we find
ourselves too alone, too isolated. I’ve been reminding
myself all the time to smile, instead of just staring,
and it’s been rewarded every time with warmth
and recognition. Try it and see what happens.
(Dana’s gorgeous wax orange blossom bridal wreath and hair collection.)
Oh yes, I also went to go see Nick Cave do an interview and reading from
his new book, The Death of Bunny Munro. His boy Jethro Lazenby Cave
was there, striding gloriously in my direction at one point, ooh-la!
I must say, the proximity to the Cave père et fils gave me quite a frisson!
More precious treasures, bisque babies, hair flowers.
Did I mention it’s Fashion Week here? Could’ve fooled me.
I’ve been completely oblivious, not gone to a single couture show,
fool that I am. Crikey. I hope I won’t miss it all! Living vicariously
instead through Yvan Rodic’s wonderful photographs, and
feeling The Gawker’s pain. Stupid sinus infection!
Dana and Mark’s tiny kitchen is quite inspiring. It’s like being inside a pastry
shell stuffed with antique lace and snails. They have the most elegant
refrigerator interior ever, lots of crocheted doilies and rush baskets.
I spent all of yesterday languishing in bed. Luckily, the bed is very luxurious-
I have the honor of staying in Miss Jolie Holland’s room while she’s out on
tour (go see her if she comes to your town! You’ll be so glad you did!)
Stefan Jecusco playing his magical banjo (goat-headed, handmade from ancient wood)
and Jolie on her Strohviol at a wonderful potluck here. My dear friend Jana
is taking really good care of me. I’m so glad to be staying here with her!
I’m laying around, feeling awful, listening to city sounds, the neighbor’s laundry
waving at from from out on the line. The tinkling of brass coins, car alarms,
children playing, a man screaming. Slowing it all down, and resting.
Sunlight on the chandelier, reflected over the courtyard from a windowpane.
A whole day passes, and I’m still here. Make a wish that I get better soon?
New York Redux circa 2006
by angeliska on September 13, 2009
Oh my. It’s been a while since I was last in New York.
I just dug up these pictures from the last time I was there,
and I’m flooded by memories of how much fun we had..
Now I’m even more excited about visiting again-
it really is one of my favorite cities, and I feel that we have
and affinity for one another. Very important in a city like that.
If a city doesn’t like you- sometimes there just ain’t much you
can do about it. Make ritual offerings of flowers and goatmilk?
Get to know each other better? Maybe a mediator.
Luckily, New York and I are exuberantly fond of one another.
I can’t wait to go to my favorite Indian restaurants:
Milan I and Milan II – otherwise known as:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY INDIAN FOOD! If you know, you know.
So magical. It’s like being on the inside of a piñata.
I get to see my beloved Dana Kitten! My ravishing sister with the most
incredible stormy blue violet eyes. It will be so lovely to see her and
her dashing beau, Mr. Mark Dion– I haven’t seen them in ages and ages!
She is an amazing artist, and creator of confectionery oddities.
Wild Irish Rose, gone feral in the bogs! Beware her thorny parasol!
The incomparable Lord Whimsy led us on a fantastic tour
of his favorite stomping grounds, the eerily beautiful Pine Barrens.
We spent a lovely day there, hunting for carnivorous plants,
fungi, and the ever-elusive Jersey Devil! I’d love to camp there someday.
Sadly, I cannot recall the name of this very rare bloom! Whims, refresh me?
We parted ways at dusk, after an afternoon of tromping in the woods,
and junk hunting! We bought an enormous (4 or 5 feet tall!) glass bell jar
that had originally housed a waxen saint doll, who tragically melted
years before. Oh, how I wish I could’ve seen her! I ought to mention
that in a fit of folly, we um- attempted to have this incredible thing
shipped. How foolish we were- of course it shattered en route.
We rushed back for a dinner party, and what a soiree it was-
always attended by the most fashionable zombies, of course.
Dana and Mark’s elegant apartment is filled with all manner of exciting
taxidermy, and their collection has grown exponentially since my last
visit here. More pictures to follow! I’m in a paradise of artful living here.
It’s enough to make you swoon- especially if your waist
has been narrowed to 18 inches by silk and whalebone!
Too tight? Of corset is!
Sadly, my sweetheart wasn’t able to accompany me on this trip..
I took this picture of him when we were last at Coney Island,
and it remains one of my favorites. Isn’t he dreamy?
Little lost goat, wandering through the blue dioramic mountains-
don’t you wish you had a guide to the big city? Luckily, I have
a long list of favorite places to re-visit, and new things to explore..
Rachael Gibson’s (Fur Coat, No Knickers) Super-Big New York Guide
is proving to be extremely helpful, however! Anything else
on your personal New York list I absolutely mustn’t miss?
I’ve fully entered the whirlwind, and am running literally
from dusk ’til dawn- more current updates as soon as I
can catch my breath! Until then, back into the fray!
Laudanum Honey
by angeliska on September 9, 2009
This past weekend, we made a quick jaunt to San Antonio to see
Elegant Enigmas: The Art of Edward Gorey at the McNay Museum.
It was truly everything I could have wished for and more- completely
worth the trip. I was practically weeping over his grocery lists
(TV Guide, cat food, cat litter) and hand-stitched Figbash doll.
The illustrated envelopes from letters to his mother, oh stars!
So beautiful. What a genius he was. How amazing to see the
originals for the Gashlycrumb Tinies! They are tiny, too!
I reveled in any tiny mistakes, stains and smears, white-outs
and pasted on panels covering flaws- these made them so real,
and that much more amazing to me. It’s a traveling exhibit,
so if it comes near you- go! You will not regret it, I swear.
Afterwards, we strolled in a rainy garden- feeling like we’d walked into a Gorey drawing.
Lunch was had at the old Liberty Bar, a leaning edifice with serious food
that came highly recommended by all who knew of it. They did not lead us astray.
We Blenheim Hot Ginger Ale (the best!), mission figs and goat cheese,
venison burgers, portabellas and wild boar sausage. Serious food, indeed.
“Structural problems plagued the place from the get-go.
Cobbled together quickly by unskilled labor out of cast-off materials,
the building appears to have been designed and constructed by children
whose milk was laced with laudanum. (And who immediately changed
their minds and removed the entire store front so they could add ten feet.)
The flood of 1921 left water standing above the mahogany bar and a thick
layer of river bottom silt around the cedar posts and oak sills of the foundation.
The weight of the floodwater warped the walls and, over time, some of cedar
foundation posts rotted, giving way, warping the floor. By this time,
Grandma Boehler had fallen down the stairs, broken her neck and died,
leaving Fritz a corner room recluse in his daughter Minnie’s care.
After his death the daughter rented out the building.
There was no significant repair or maintenance for over fifty years.
Time went by and the building did a slow hula as in laws took over.
A family cousin encouraged the troops in rented rooms upstairs
while black waiters carried fried chicken and tamales out to cars
parked in the hackberry shade. Old rodeo clowns and Saturday
morning matinee cowboys drank beer, smoked cigars and cracked jokes .
They grew old and die but to a few mossbacks from
the brewery and the perennial under-age adolescent.”
It’s such a beautiful old building- I’m sad that they’ll be moving away from it soon.
The whole thing leans heavily, and the floor is so wonky and crooked
that you feel drunk as soon as you walk in. All the angles are wrong,
but the place is so oddly calming. It’s like being in a Texan version of
Through the Looking Glass, if you can imagine that.
It was there that Frannie and I discovered the enigma of the conjoined cornichon!
Funny thing is, just yesterday I found another one, in my salad..
Must be an epidemic. Siamese twin baby pickles everywhere!
Jordan Moser and Frannie Brown, two of my favorite folks-
both brilliant dancers and old-tyme musicians who love
silent movies and slapstick humor, and it would seem- each other!
Case in point. So gol-danged cute. Jeez, Louise!
Ain’t love grand?
★ I recently discovered the work of Aquirax Uno through Tara Sinn–
she does a fantastic interview with him that you can go read on her blog.
She’s got a shiny new portfolio, and her work is fantasmic, go check it out.
★Also, Thirty Book Covers from Poland from A Journey Round My Skull
is really inspiring- in a design-sense, but also makes me want
to go to Poland and nose around used bookstores looking
for some of these! Might help if I learned Polish, I guess.
★ David Lynch’s window displays via John Coulthart’s Feuilleton
are wonderful as well. Love that man. Let’s go to Paris, eh?
★ Oh yeah! I almost forgot- I got my ritual haircut done today!
I freaking love it. It’s better than I ever could have imagined.
Pictures soon, I promise. Hooray for coiffure bravery, I say!
Right-o, back to packing for my trip to New York- I leave on Friday!
Please do let me know your favorite people/places/things there,
and in general! Seen any art you loved lately? I’m going to be
meeting with and interviewing artists when I’m in the Big Apple-
so tell me about anyone you think I might dig, won’t you?
MAGIC WINDOWS #2
by angeliska on September 7, 2009
So, our house caught on fire last night!
We were so incredible lucky that we caught it
before it spread into the ceiling- I am really
feeling so grateful right now to whatever is
protecting us. We smelled smoke, and discovered
that a fire was building in the wall behind our dryer.
The dryer vent got too hot, and caught the old, dry wood,
perhaps smoldering it again and again before in burst
into flames. I ran for a fire extinguisher while the boys
hacked into the wall with an axe. When I got back, there
were five firetrucks and ambulances with stretchers and
I nearly had a heart-attack. Luckily (between my sweetheart
and twenty or so brawny firemen) it was quickly dispatched!
Such a terrifying experience, though.We can deal with
the damage from this, though- and it’s a really good wake up
call to replace our smoke detectors and get new extinguishers.
Please do the same- protect your home and yourself,
because you really never do know. I shudder to think
what would have happened had we been asleep, or out…
Horrors. I’m pretty ready to not have any more disasters
or destruction in my life, okay? Seriously. Enough!
Alright, without further ado: the latest installment
in my Magic Windows series:
My friend Corrine had
a sparkle birthday party recently where being glittery from head to toe was mandatory.
Luckily, this has never been a problem for me. I live for the razzle-dazzle.
The latest acquisition to my treasure hoard: a hard carved (or is it pyrographed?)
wooden box from Russia, with firebird corners done in beautiful repoussage.
Some furry friends from the shop– actually the box, and the treasures below
came from there as well- of course! These fine fellows were formerly
scientific specimens tucked away in some dusty drawer. Now they can
come out and play! They need some jewels for eyes.
Chipmunks are so great- I wish we had them in Texas.
Monkey toes (not fingers!) and ivory fan. Have you ever seen such long toes
on sock monkey before? I sure hadn’t! It’s so hard not to adopt every
single orphaned sock money I see. I love them so.
Too true.
The storms have finally come, and everyone is so relieved.
You can feel the change in the air! I am hoping I won’t totally miss
that spell-binding time when the shift in seasons is so palpable
that everyone starts practically dancing in the streets.
I saw a double rainbow! Good omens. Double happiness.
Frannie also had a birthday, and we celebrated by going down to
Paradise Grove, along the river. We ate fruit-tarts and drank champagne
on the little sandy beach. Later when the moon rose, we built a fire
and danced and sang and skinny-dipped in the silvery water.
I just discovered that my phone actually does a quite good video-
I managed to catch this story from my Grampa Charlie while he
was recuperating from bronchitis in the hospital- he’s home now,
and feeling a lot better! The prelude to this story is that
my grandmother, Jean Goldstick Polacheck, was photographer
in New York in the 40’s and 50’s, and was good friends with
Weegee, and Stieglitz and all those guys.
She was working for Cue Magazine, taking pictures
of Zero Mostel during his show at El Morocco.
If you aren’t familiar with Zero Mostel, here are some clips of him
on the Muppet Show (!) and from The Producers
(it’s the great scene with Gene Wilder, who I adore.)
MAGIC WINDOWS #2
These magic windows are a view into my day-to-day,
and the wondrous things I espy. All photos
and video are shot on my magical celephone,
which has enabled me to capture so many of
the fleeting images that heretofore were
recorded only upon the back wall of my brainpan.
Endless Summer
by angeliska on September 2, 2009
Yes, so I’m aware it’s September and autumn is creeping in,
but here in Texas it’s going to be summer for a while yet!
It’s strange- Fall has always been my favorite season,
and yet despite this hideous drought and blaze we’ve been
experiencing down here, I must admit I’m a bit sad to see summer go.
I want more skinny-dipping, more slip wearing, more nectar sipping!
My body loves being warm here- it’s like floating in amniotic fluid.
Muscles unfurl, neck loosens, shoulders un-hunch themselves
and the smell of hot cedar sap and baking asphalt are a strange balm.
Popsicle season. Sweaty sassy dance party time. Sunset hour.
Summer! Who knew I could ever grow to love it so, especially after
years in the South- swearing up and down that I would never subject
myself to another blistering Texas or muggy Louisiana summer.
Here’s the thing though- I’m a perfume fanatic, and my tastes lean
far more to wintery or autumnal scents. I like manly, leathery, smoky,
spicy, woody tea and green notes. Almost exclusively.
I know what smells good on me, and yet my love of perfume
always leads me to try new things- sometimes this results in
fantastic discoveries. Or not. I’ve been disappointed far too often,
but still find myself engaged in late-night flurries of fancy on
perfume blogs and ebay, determined to find the perfect one.
Summer usually catches me off guard, you see- and my signature
scents are really far too heavy for hot weather. Hence my frantic
night-owl trawling. One day I will find something so heady and
amazing, that captures my vision of what summer should smell like.
It might involve snatches of some the the perfumes below,
which I have been experiencing this summer.
My secret dream is to be a perfumer, so perhaps one day
I shall just have to make it myself! Isn’t that always just the way?
Un Jardin Sur Le Nil by Hermès
The notes are: green mango, lotus flower,
aromatic rushes (calamus), frankincense, sycamore wood.
I adore green scents (in junior high it was Prescriptive’s Calyx)
and I bought this one on a whim in the Airport (I think it was Schipol)
on route to Serbia. This perfume is a huge reminder of the ability of scent
to powerfully evoke memories! Everytime I wear it, I am instantly transported:
washing off days of grime from the Guča Balkan Brass Festival in the mountains of Dragačevo.
Finding calm and respite in a too-snazzy Belgrade palace hotel. It makes me think of traveling with my grandfather, my favorite music, being a stranger, and dark green mountains. I had long looked for a perfume that utilized sycamore, one of my core home scents – so this one drew me in. I love it so much- it’s almost time for a new bottle!
Banane Vanille by Comptoir Sud Pacifique
“Direct from the French West Indies,
sparkling orange basted with banana cream on top,
clove wrapped up with banana leaf in the heart,
vanilla pod and white rum in a mellow background
for a super rich and surprising fragrance.”
I have no excuse for this one, other than that I have a sick
predilection for fake banana flavor. Give me your runts + laffy taffy,
I eat it up. I know it’s wrong, and I don’t care. This is way, way
sweeter than I can normally ever stand- but I wear it when I want
to masquerade as a fluffy sundae, or a tropical maiden. Mmm, nanners!
Oh, also it’s has kind of an effervescent quality, and my dog chewed
on my bottle of it, which is made of metal and now has bite marks.
It must be good, because Grrizelda gave it her seal of approval.
“Demeter’s Firefly seeks to capture the essence
of an early northeastern spring evening at dusk,
the smells associated with the kind of magical night
when the first fireflies of the year appear.”
This has been my number one summer scent this year.
Very reminiscent of Demeter’s Thunderstorm,
with a more earthiness, a bit of verdance, and luminescent
bug-butt squish. At least that’s what I perceive. The bottle
leaks a bit onto my hankies in my bag, and that’s quite nice.
Navegar by L’Artisan Parfumeur
I wear Navegar now and then, but it’s a bit light
for my tastes. Very elegant and understated.
I’d like more spice, more manliness. As usual.
“Inspired by the “black diamond”, pepper,
Navegar perfectly showcases the dual nature
of this king of spices, its warmth and its bracing freshness.
With notes of rum, lime, ginger and anise,
it is a piquant cocktail resting on a luxurious base
of precious woods and incense.
Navegar features notes of red pepper, ginger,
lime, absolute rum, black pepper, incense,
star anise, juniper, cedar wood, guaiac wood.”
“Navegar is a scent of stones, shells and driftwood collected on the beach.
The woody dryness almost makes me feel sand grains scratching my skin,
and as the composition begins its panoramic unfolding, I notice a touch of
salty freshness, which provides an interesting counterpoint to the spices
and woods comprising this Olivia Giacobetti’s creation for L’Artisan Parfumeur.
This imaginary beach is a deserted one–just as the sandy dunes slowly
descend into the dusky mist in the evening, the citrus shimmer of Navegar’s
top notes fades into the raw silk warmth of woods. The luminosity of
Navegar’s woody accord is accented by the spices, from the resinous
dryness of pepper to the pungent bite of ginger. The lovers of Olivia Giacobetti
will find much to enjoy about this L’Artisan—wistful aura, gauzy treatment
of woods and caressing whisper of spices. On the other hand, this ethereal
quality might disappoint those who prefer their spices fiery.”
Vetiver by Hove of New Orleans
This is my all-purpose summer scent.
It’s good for layering, great alone.
It’s pretty butch, yes- very dry and airy.
Just Vetiver, nothing else.
It comes from Hove,
which is very sentimental and special for me.
Such a magical place, do visit it when you’re
in New Orleans, and send me a bundle of vetiver root.
I’m always on the look out for the perfect Vetiver.
We wear the raw essential oil, which is very wintery
and intense. Most of the commercial vetivers are too
powdery and light! This is dark, dirty elder-god goat sap!
It is a grass, and all- but really. Roots! It needs to be rich.
I’ve tried Vetiver Tonka by Hermès as well as
Fig & Vetiver by Anthousa and found both too light.
The hunt continues on..
Check out this description of Vétiver Extraordinaire,
from Elena Vosnaki of Perfume Shrine:
Hello, I’m swooning. She is my favorite perfume writer
because of passages like that. She intrinsically gets it,
and always finds the most perfect language to explain it.
I’m reading Diane Ackerman’s A Natural History of the Senses
right now, and in the chapter about scent she writes that
we have no words to describe scent. Elena Vosnaki
has proved that wrong again and again.
Oh my, how I admire her! Too, too sublime.
Fig by Marc Jacobs
“Unfolds with the richness of fig and the freshness
of yuzu zest and Tuscan cypress—
warm and enveloping without overwhelming.”
Fragrance Notes: Wet Cut Grass, Wild Strawberry,
Clementine Zest, Dewy Cypress, Tropical Rain Accord,
Passion Flower, Sunshine Flower, White Orchid,
Beech Amber, Musk, Tree Moss, Teak Wood.
I bought a giant bottle of this and now sort of regret it.
It’s not dark and figgy at all, really. Oh well.
Anybody want to buy it from me?
It’s very pleasant and summery,
but just not right for me.
Dame Darcy – Sexy Summer Man
“It’s made from the leaves of Tomato plants
and smells like a wonderful citrusy dark green summer.
Many claim that it has helped their love life as well!”
I just got this in the mail from Dame Darcy
with a big bundle of Meatcake Comics
I bought to replace the ones I lost in the hurricane.
Crushed tomato leaves evoke
my most powerful summer memories:
Laying down between the rows,
looking up at the moon, making out.
Chin bristle and dirty fingernails.
The prickle and sting and sharp green
smell of trampled plants and sweat.
It seems like summer scents are usually either green or fruity and fluffy.
I need something versatile, sultry, long-lasting, and a little mean.
Lazy, blends well with my armpit smell, and totally irreverent.
I’m thinking: cedar, sycamore, fig, asphalt, pink pepper, vetiver, grapefruit, storm.
How do you solve this conundrum? What are your favorite summer scents?
(p.s. I can’t recall where I found either of these wonderful photographs, alas.
If you know where credit is due, please let me know!)
Voyages: Chicago
by angeliska on September 1, 2009
So, remember when I went to Chicago?
I’m just now finding a minute to write about all that,
so forgive the vast rewind- as per usual, I create my own
time-space continuum and all that.
I find myself in a hulking city packed with bodies
and marvel as I let myself be buffeted like a bit o’ flotsam
down the human river. So many facets of life’s vicissitudes
moving all around me. I love to get lost in that thick
stream, to wonder about lives and languages and stories.
It’s what I love most about big cities, and what would no doubt
drive me mad if I lived in one for a long time.
If you’re even a little bit empathic, it can be quite overwhelming
to be constantly surrounded by minds on all sides-
though in smaller doses, it’s a sublime delight.
This Egyptian Temple had been converted into a climate-controlled storage unit facility.
Guaranteed to keep the contents of your canopic jars fresh, and your mummified cats
perfectly preserved for all eternity. The night-watchman’s a Setian Priest, no doubt.
We had the pleasure of staying in the marvelous sprawling apartments of Elena Brocade,
though she was on honeymoon in Cairo until the very end of our visit. Romantical!
It was wonderful to explore her world- it is truly a wonderland of exotic plants, ostrich
feathers, intriguing books, mannequins, puppets and fancy hats. In other words, paradise.
Elena is a very talented and inspiring creature- she’s an aerial artist, amazing all with her
feats on the static trapeze, silks, and Spanish web. Strength, grace and incredible fashion sense-
all wrapped up into one sassy package of sinew, satin and sequins. We totally raided her closet,
which has a whole section devoted to nothing but jumpsuits! Her costumes are the best, ever.
Check her out! Also, if you saw Public Enemies recently, that was her looking all dusty and consumptive
and clutching at Johnny Depp’s arm after making him egg-salad sandwiches. She’s a movie star!
An amazing shop window downtown- little did I know, it was done by a
good friend of Lady Lavona’s. Infinitesimally small world we wander through.
This was glued to the wall in Elena’s kitchen. Sexy!
Appetite-stimulating! I wish I could read the whole comic.
Grandmother Wolf.
Al and Raven, (very tipsy and adorable) were our trusty guides to Chicago’s nightlife.
It was so good to hang out with these dear ones- I had missed them both enormously.
We went new-wave dancing at Neo, and it was hilarious.
Chartreuse + soda and Bauhaus. Almost like being 15 in New Orleans again!
Hunger in our bellies led us to a glowing bastion in the night, the only thing open-
(aside from that hot-dog stand where all the drunk asshats harass the hot-dog ladies.)
The Golden Nugget! It was filled with faux-art-nouveau stained glass,
southwestern themed frosted glass and grumpy waitresses!
Also, greasy blinis! Perfection. Latkes at 3am, so happy-making.
Obligatory 4am post-nightclub late-night diner bathroom photo.
Back at Elena’s the next morning we discovered some grisly evidence.
Curtains, for you
Magic doorways.
Have you ever tasted durian? Do you adopt ancestors?
I want this iridescent peachy wallpaper, please.
Elena’s sad soldier sculpture. He looks like a peat bog man to me.
This is Diana. She works at The Red Apple Polish Buffet.
She became our friend, first because of her amazing outfit and hot accent-
but then because she played good music just for us in our private room,
and was totally amenable to being kidnapped and taken to the beach.
Diana, we love you! Run away with us, and then take us to Poland with you!
The Polish toy shop, where I had to get dragged out of here, and was thus prevented
from buying heaps of faded birthday cards with kittens and indecipherable greetings.
Lukewarm Dude Puma. Need I say more?
I sat by this window, and read this book about Michael Jackson. It was strange.
Okay, next time I go to Chicago it’s going to be for more than just a couple
of days- so I need lots of suggestions for wondrous and interesting things
I need to experience there. Pony up! I love wandering around aimlessly,
but please make me a magic map of destinations. It’s such a fantastic city-
tell me your stories about it, won’t you? What must I simply not miss?
