What could be more boring than never having to work again? Here's a quick primer on how to make certain there's never a dull moment after you've won your jackpot prize, and discover your life's purpose in the bargain, involving risking life and sanity using a 15th-century magical grimoire to summon your Holy Guardian Angel.
Books make great holiday gifts. They’re not usually very big or expensive, though they can be both. And they can signal a regard for the receiver’s interests, intelligence, and aesthetic sense. This sort of multi-level communication is very much in vogue these days. The Philosophy of Andy Warhol from A to B and Back Again (1975) is maybe the easiest book to give, at least in my library. Everyone loves it. So many people that it almost cuts down on the specialness of the book as a gift. Except for that it is an incredibly intimate piece of writing. Not exactly in the sense offered by the latest Kitty Kelley biography, which imagines the uncovering of salacious gossip as some kind of final or conclusive knowledge about its protagonist. And Warhol loved every porny detail, don’t get me wrong. The thing is this is a “philosophy”: a warm, funny, charismatic, and full view of the world, its workings and its workers. The chapters alternate between a transcript of a telephone dialogue between “A” and “B,” and loose collections of anecdotes and aphorisms. Both genres are longtime staples of philosophical writing: Plato and Rousseau wrote dialogues, Pascal and Nietzsche wrote aphorisms. In [...]
.. . Antony Hegardy o Is the reason ghosts love the rain. “The Lake” Edgar Allen Poe Reinterpreted by Antony Hegardy In youth’s spring, it was my lot To haunt of the wide earth a spot To which I could not love the less So lovely was the loneliness Of a wild lake, with black rock bound And the tall trees that towered around But when the night had thrown her pall Upon that spot as upon all And the wind would pass me by In it’s stilly melody My infant spirit would awake To the terror of the lone lake My infant spirit would awake To the terror of the lone lake Yet that terror was not fright But a tremulous delight And a feeling undefined Springing from a darkened mind Death was in that poisoned wave And in it’s gulf a fitting grave For him who thence could solace bring To his dark imagining Whose wildering though could even make An Eden of that dim lake But when the night had thrown her pall Upon that spot as upon all And the wind would pass me by In it’s stilly melody My infant spirit would awake To the [...]
I used to have a definite deathwish. During my twenties, I decided that I would kill myself when I turned 33. I wasn't depressed, I simply didn't want to grow old. “Decrepitude” has such a nasty ring to it—did then, still does—and an even nastier smell. And now, almost four years past that expiration date, I can report that I was being stupid. But then I go and write stuff like the following...
Fashion photographer Karen Genetta jerryrigged her first studio in her parent’s basement as a teenager and hasn’t put the camera down since. She describes her style as OCD meets minimalism plus a dash of goth, which seems apt, as her work is still, sculptural, and sometimes a little dark. You can see evidence of her idols in her work: the stark obsessiveness of Guy Bourdin and the provocative daring of Erwin Olaf. The traces of them are there, but what you won’t find is direct imitation. Genetta says, “I reject alot of outside influence, and when it comes to magazines my only and holy subscription is Numéro. I think I’ve developed a style of my own.” Genetta is originally from London, went to school for graphic design in Miami, and now lives and works in New York. You can see her work at www.karengenetta.com.
Okay, people. Get ready for a shocker. This image is completely low tech. As in not digitally enhanced. As in, it is an actual piece of art on an actual piece of wood and not a pixelated representation as such. You know, except that, here, for our purposes, it’s a jpeg, but I think you get what I’m trying to say. Chris Berens is an artist out of Amsterdam, and he makes these delightful masterworks from ink on film. Each painting is pieced together in 2 to 3 inch sections of film, layered over one another to create one cohesive image. His work is a fully-loaded phantasmagoria of delights replete with 18th century Dutch references. It will be exhibited at Roq la Rue in Seattle in December. You can watch a video interview with Berens below (but it’s a little boring if you aren’t a behind the genius junkie like me), or skip on through to the gallery.
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