what's costume?

emulation of a dresden doll

i have accidentally been aroused by the likes of lynn yaeger for quite some time. i first caught eye of her this summer around 14th street briskly passing the jamba juice, and was mesmerized, first by her snow-white complexion, gothic maroon pursed lips, symmetrically-even pink doll cheeks, and her orange-drenched short 1920s bob perfectly defined her face. then my eyes moved down and go caught sight of her layers of blacks and grey snuggled around her round russian doll-like figure, my heart got to beating a bit faster and a roar of mystery inside of me. WHO IS SHE?

i asked myself this question for days on, occasionally catching myself day dreaming about this real life dresden doll enigma, and the colorful tales she could tell me. after about a month my obsession slowly passed, and i still knew nothing about her. what was i suppose to do, put her traits in a google search and find her name? one sunday i was wondering about the chelsea indoor flea market but who do i see outside, but this character dressed as if she could have been adapted straight out of a tim burton/wes anderson collaboration. i am taken at the sight, and drift to a parallel doll land where me and here are downing glasses of wine and smoking stokes upon emerald fluffy clouds. i sharply return to reality, disgruntled months go by, the public pools close their doors and people are flung to buy fall coats and prepare for the cold; i briefly move to england. while in london, i attempt to keep abreadth of the new york fashion goings for new york and who else do i spot but her in the bankground of a show sitting in the front row. no title, at least none revealing a thing about her existence. though, i gain a clue: she works in fashion.

months and months pass and finally thanks to a check on the paper mag website i determine her name, oh hi dear lynn yeager. how long i yearned to know your name. now i do and have learned that you are the main fashion writer for the village voice as well as a freelancer to the times and vogue. yeehaww finally a mesmerizing fashion journalist. i think i have found my newest icon.

and now i even have actual images--what joy!

ghosts from the past

berlin: bliss or blaogney?

those twinkling, fuzzy lights as you are descending down into a city always gets me. i can't help but dangle my head towards the window focusing the blurs into a semi-comprehensive, semi-imagined picture. this time it was berlin, a place complicated by it's past and praised for its down-to-earth air. once the plane landed two nights, and one full day to truly discover berlin. after a moment to gather my bearings from the ryanair flight, a noisy combination of a ghoulish burgundy and yellow interior, techno trash, and smooth stella beers, i was greeted with a stamp in my passport and the word 'push' in english and german, directing me on how to handle the door. i quickly forgot my first german world, and swooshed my way into deutschland.

after the normal hassle of buying train tickets in a foreign country, which we later learned hardly meant a thing because you could easily just ride all of berlin's public transportation for free, we were on again on the move. this time to relieve our hands (and backs) of our baggage. after some time on the train, we are greeted by some want-to-be thug germans, who decided that the bus also wanted to hear their music, and proceeded to whip out their boom-box speakers, playing Tupac's "changes". not quite the pollination of flowers to my ears, but hey, i do like me some 'pac. kids, teenagers, adults, we are all the same no matter the country.


to be continued...

the poison seeps in

it makes the writing cease, and the serious thoughts come to an immediate hault. imagery, however, is always welcome. even when negative.

a sunset

This is what skimmed by me as I briskly passed the countryside:

A hobble of gray tainted sheep spread across the sky and as if on a mushroom trip the prettiest pinks and oranges, you ever saw, foamed out of their mouths, leaking into the monotonous blue of the sky.

One by one, the kaleidoscope puffs dispersed into the mouth of the newly reincarnated Tyrannosaurus with every intention to repeat the cycle in just a day’s time. The sheet turns a deep periwinkle. A navy. A black. The tantalizing fades and the curtain never reopens.

da surrealist manifesto

So strong is the belief in life, in what is most fragile in life ? real life, I mean ? that in the end this belief is lost. Man, that inveterate dreamer, daily more discontent with his destiny, has trouble assessing the objects he has been led to use, objects that his nonchalance has brought his way, or that he has earned through his own efforts, almost always through his own efforts, for he has agreed to work, at least he has not refused to try his luck (or what he calls his luck!). At this point he feels extremely modest: he knows what women he has had, what silly affairs he has been involved in; he is unimpressed by his wealth or his poverty, in this respect he is still a newborn babe and, as for the approval of his conscience, I confess that he does very nicely without it. If he still retains a certain lucidity, all he can do is turn back toward his childhood which, however his guides and mentors may have botched it, still strikes him as somehow charming. There, the absence of any known restrictions allows him the perspective of several lives lived at once; this illusion becomes firmly rooted within him; now he is only interested in the fleeting, the extreme facility of everything. Children set off each day without a worry in the world. Everything is near at hand, the worst material conditions are fine. The woods are white or black, one will never sleep. -- Andre Breton

essentials for the day

soul music

no more junk (except indian sweet shops)

occasionally be bored

prevent a headache

explore the new; remember the old

write  

write well

read

read often 

not being around sicknesses 

despise people watching

explain your feeling; inability to explain 

stay around good company 

watch a techno craze fairytale develop in front of your very eyes

take up watercolors

buy one of these                                                

and RIDE it.

realize we are all the same canvas

manifesto marathon, man

yesterday in between the typical saturdays goings of hyde park (picnics, football, dog walking, rollerblading goofs and so on) the serpentine gallery put on a manifesto marathon, where several artists took the stage declaring, singing, performing their own manifestos of the day. it was a wonderful feeling as all different types of people huddled in the outdoor pavilion, designed by frank gehry, and watched as filmmakers, designers, writers, and artists lay out their individual intentions. 

vivienne westwood started off the day with her manifesto active resistance to propaganda, which she wrote a couple of years earlier and noted that today she might not have written it, because she believes the world will basically be crumbling into nothing in just 100 years and thinks she wouldn't have had it in her today. regardless of this small fact, she noted she still believed all of it and wished the audience to practice and follow it as well. her manifesto, written in the form of a play and adapting characters of lewis carroll's alice in wonderland, aristotle, and pinocchio, notes of the importance of the artist's and he or she taking part in alternate realities; yet the urgency for the artist to recognize the importance of being human and from this constantly pushing oneself to culturally grow, and this will bring about the change the world needs. occasionally westwood went on minor digression where her true composure and intelligence shined through, and the audience could truly acknowledge the unique set of ideas she has brought forth in her fashion and as an overall artist, while on top of it all keeping her rad aesthetic as seen in her carrot-orange hear and the white turban cap she wore with the word 'chaos' scribbled on it. now that is one icon i truly admire and her presence left me spinning with inspiration.  

another female icon and highlight of the day's events was no other than yoko ono. running a tad late, her small asian presence was quickly made up for her attire of a black, sparkly top-hat, gently leaning towards the left, and oval, lennon-esque shades at the brim of her nose at seven at night next to her strong, high-pitched voice.  she presented a quick manifesto in which repetitions on love and peace reoccurred numerous times without fail, and she ended it with: "we have a lot of work to do, but let's do it dancing and loving it!" at first she appears to be just this crazy little lady stuck in the 'we have to do something' thought of vietnam, but then you realize how wonderful it is to have that very attitude in the sea of our current disillusioned, apathetic society, and you just want to truly imagine and believe that this all could very well be possible. yoko then showed a quasi instructional video that explained her current performance art in which she wants everyone to flash lights (clicking them on in synchronized frequencies) as a new way to say  "i love you". these signals of love she wants to then be sent across the world and the universe. only yoko. yet, she ended it all with a full-blown bang where she declared dance music be put on and jumped down from the stage and made everyone dance with her. i danced amongst yoko. oh boy, what a wonderful moment. 

here are some more recaps/highlights from the big day of manifestos: 

richard wentworth : went through a list of things that everyone should have done before higher education. some favorites were appreciate difference, learn you don't need to measure, work at place where paper is made, and he then ended it by telling everyone else to make their own list. 

gilbert and george: snappily dressed in contrasting pastel suits got up and recited four manifestos. the first is the law of sculptors, which they wrote in 1969. 

      1. always be smartly dress well groomed relaxed friendly polite and in complete control

      2. make the world to believe in you and to pay heavily for this privilege 

      3. never worry assess discuss or criticize but remain quiet respectable and calm 

   

      4. the lord chissels still, so don't leave your bench for long  

their fourth manifesto was called ban religion where they simply repeated 'ban religion' 4 times. 

ben vautier: went on a rant about art being ego and went on to pass out blank, white sheets of paper as his manifesto and went through a brief history of other notable performances. he spruced things up with much needed comedy in sometimes a realm of too serious thinking.  he ended with 'just smile' and then quickly showed a sign that read suicide. 

jean-jacques lebel: did a long, theatrical speech constructed out of several languages (some seemed to be imaginative), ending in english with, 'peace in the world or the world in pieces.' 

mark wallinger: gave a 2o minute speech in which he drew from several areas going from nirvana to buzz lightyear of toy story. here are some of my tid-bits i caught, run against the boundaries of language; lust is endless; these are the rules but the rules are nonsense; shit and live shit and die; metaphors are like clowns with buckets of confetti running after you; we fear the end but at least it is the end; buzz lightyear and existential crisis

photos on the way... 

twoday's perspective

the rain gave me sunshine. 

theend. 

the historic circle

for the 40th anniversary of ny magazine kurt anderson gives a look back to 1968 in Boom-Bust-Boom Town there are many parallels for new yorkers today, and what has been going on time and time again.




the blackout of 1968





today: the downfall of Lehman Brothers

words to be expanded, thought on, dreamed-of, skipped to

"Love easily confuses us because it is always in flux between illusion, and substance, between memory and wish, between contentment and need. Perhaps there are times when the contradictions of love and lust are so intermingled that the only way to see the truth of love is to pit it against the irreducible reality of lust.

Of course, love can never be stripped bare of illusion, but simply to arrive at an awareness of illusion is to hold hands with truth--and sometimes the hard light of lust affords just such an awareness."

Tom Robbins

babar land

go figure. i cross the pond and make my way to this european realm, similar to a grand tour, minus a handful of train rides and pocket-sized tutors by my every move. But despite some of the drawbacks and struggles (the weak dollar for one!) compared to the former victorian social and intellectual elites, i am here. and as i am here my favorite childhood pleasures, Barbar the Elephant, has found it's way to New York with the exhibit "Drawing Barbar: Early Drafts and Watercolors" at the Morgan Library Museum. thanks ny times art review for the tip.

check out these illustrations. presenting the early stages of barbar as originally thought-up from the bedtime stories of Cecile de Brunhoff and then elaborated by her husband even later on their son, Laurent de Brunhoff, who is still in charge of the Barbar name.


and like a 10-year-old with a big box of crayola crayons and large sheets of paper these initial creations of Barbar do not disappoint. look at him in his immaculately-tailored green suit and cute elephant gray body--what a childhood joy!

my bloggerific return

okay, not like that many people read this or anything but I am back on the blogging path after a long, long, long hiatus. this time my travels and ponder are slightly different, that is geographically. i have fled from boston land and now in the cement jungle capital, also known as Manhattan. Well I know I have lots of catching up to do so to keep things timely, and to keep your interest, I will summarize with some visuals. Enjoy.

this is my darling kitty. at the time of this picture his name was sadie-belle, that was before we figured out our cat was boy, and the name quickly changed to sadie-boy...