Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Uh oh, are we lost again? I knew I should have hired a different guide at the ICA. This one kept on jumping on the benches, singing and trying to steal stuff from the gift shop. Was that supposed to be part of the tour? We're going on a pretend museum visit and studio tour today at Blicky Kitty, because we saw a show of Misaki Kawai's last year at the ICA in Boston and I just keep thinking about her art. OK, let's get in the time machine...where should we go? Weimar Germany to try and kill Hitler? 10 BC so we can find out what Mary Magdalene thinks about Dan Brown? 1986 and warn Geraldo Rivera not to open Al Capone's vault on live tv? Naaaah, lets go back to 2007 and see some cool art. OK, the driver seems distracted by that furry gentleman in orange -- "Sir, could you please have a seat?" OK, everyone make play car sounds, "brrroooooommm, broooooommm..." Oh that was so fast! Here we are!
OK, here we are. Oh, there's a guy from VBStv there too so we'll just go in with him (click here for video, part one). Emily Brouillet, Assistant Curator at the ICA writes that her work is part of a Japanese style coined by graphic artist Terry Johnson (King Terry) called Hetauma. The term that combines the words for good and bad. Kawai herself explains that "Everything has a balance of good and bad to it: for example, Hetauma for me is 'bad, but good'...when something looks cute but has a funny or weird aspect to it, I think it's really special." Part of what I find compelling about her paintings is that when all pretense and traditional measures of technical skill are stripped away this enables the artist to really explore compositions of forms and color in a basic and honest way. There is a fun tension that runs through her work between a serious respect for her own aesthetic vision and her disarming playfulness and irreverence.
Oh no what's going on down here? The Manhattan Project? * Note to self: maybe we'll pop in for a little talkie-talk with Oppenheimer, circa 1939 on the way back home to 2008. Let's listen in. "What don't you like about yourself Mr. Furface?"
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Possible macrocosmic interpretations for Spy vs. Spy:
- The TNT detonator is Bill Ayers, Joe Sixpack, the lobster dinner, Joe the Plumber, accusations of class warfare....uh oh, uh oh BOOOOOOOMMM! Blows up in their faces.
- The spies are Pyrrhus and Priam caught in a terrible cycle of violence.
- The TNT detonator is the war on terror and we're winning, the surge is working. We're the good team, they're the bad team...uh oh, uh oh BOOOOOOMMMM! Blows up in their faces.
- The monochromatic character of the cartoon symbolizes the racial tensions inherent in our culture.
Priam killed by Neoptolemus (Pyrrhus), son of Achilles, detail of an Attic black-figure amphora by the Class of Cambridge 49, ca. 520 BC–510 BC, found in Vulci, Louvre, Department of Greek, Etruscan and Roman Antiquities, Sully wing, Campana Gallery (F 222), Photographer: Jastrow (2006)
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
The instant burst of clamour that she made,
Unless things mortal move them not at all,
Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
And passion in the gods.'
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
- using dried lasagna to create a racetrack for Matchboxes,
- pretending that the artificial flower aisle at Walmarts or Michael's is a magical garden,
- cleaning the vat of A&D ointment that found it's way onto the walls and forms into clumps around the dollhouse furniture,
- reading to them about art, mythology, opera and ancient history then enduring the blank stares of the public school teachers that don't know what to do with a child with such eccentric interests,
- cleaning the clumps of expensive lavender hand soap that have been gauged out by a phillips head screwdriver,
- doing the voices for various stuffed animals (which sometimes turns into a double conversation when I, Mumma, am talking to them) or conversing with my little kitten's squeaky sounding feet which she's named Susan (oh, and one hand is also Susan, but the other one is Inchy-Binchy Sfider),
- being the prince for Cinderella and working out a killer dance routine for their closing number,
- doing pilates with a pretty little lump of almost 40 pounds on top of me, and then allowing the workout to degenerate into a circus routine that rivals Cirque du Soleil (sort of like Xtreme flying angel),
- turning up the volume on the B52's, Sublime or the GoGos and having a raucous dance party with two girls and hoping like heck the 7 yr. old doesn't notice the f-bomb in What I Got,
- and, of course, using the yoga mat to transform aforementioned screwdriver/diaper ointment technician into a mermaid,
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
- I try to make everything I can. Yogurt is a snap to make in a thermos and it saves a lot of plastic. Ditto on snacks for lunchboxes. I do a lot of homemade gingersnaps and popcorn.
- Alright, so the homemade pasta machine I got on Craig's list for 10 bucks is still gathering dust but just think how many cardboard boxes that I will save when it works like it did in my fantasy.
- We get our milk delivered in glass bottles.
- I try, whenever possible, to buy local eggs and drop off the old cartons there.
- Until I no longer suck at gardening, I try to buy from farm stands and farmers markets because it's easier to throw things into a canvas bag.
- His Halloween costume will be made by hand this year instead of insisting on a hand beaded one made in Thailand.
- He is giving up 2 of his 20 daily venti chai lattes,
- He is going to use acorns instead of plastic cutlery to pelt at hippie pinko's
- He's will only get one $389 cat bed for his guest room, rather than the matching pair
- He's resigned to turning the Hummer off now when it's in the driveway instead of hooking it up directly to the oil derrick in our backyard, although he'll miss the outdoor heating over the winter.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Brokaw: Sen. McCain, for you, we have our first question from the Internet tonight. A child of the Depression, 78-year-old Fiorra from Chicago:
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
I’ve been meaning to write this for quite some time. The last letter I wrote to you was in 1977. Remember? I told you that hilariously funny joke about how you always wore purple socks. That was so funny. I was hoping you’d be so intrigued that you’d want to meet me and invite me onto the Donny & Marie Show, but I guess it didn’t work out. I know how busy you were back then. You had legions of fans and here I was, an eight-year-old girl.
I had the whole thing planned out though; I even had my outfit picked out. I knew I definitely wouldn’t wear one of those long sequined dresses like Marie and all your other guests. Instead, I would’ve have worn my best jeans, a purple turtleneck, a preppy ribbon belt with purple flowers and, of course, matching purple socks. Of course you would have been struck by my casual beauty, but my dance performance would have really revealed my special, poetic soul. The lights would fade slowly as the music started: “When the deep purple falls over sleepy garden walls, And the stars begin to twinkle in the sky…” I had a carefully planned dance routine with leg kicks, axles, gymnastics and pretty arm flourishes that I had learned in ballet. I practiced every night in my room with the 45. It was a little embarrassing when my brother walked in, but I was determined to impress you with how graceful I was.
I suppose our relationship would’ve been brief. I hadn’t really thought through how it would work, but I had a vague idea that we would kiss and maybe move our heads around just the way they did on the Love Boat and Fantasy Island…
Anyway, a lot of the other girls at school started liking Eric Estrada, the boy from Eight is Enough and Rick Springfield, but I remained true to us. Dr. Blakely told me that I had to let go, but I never did. My love was so strong that I had to go away for a little while, but I’m much better now. I live in a small house in northern Utah now and I work from home. I have my own taxidermy studio in a cabin out back and I spend a lot of time in front of the computer or out finding small animals. So you still live in Salt Lake City? I get into the big city every so often now that I have discovered freganism. There are some great dumpsters between East South Temple and University Boulevard.
Anyway, I never got married. I know, huh? I heard you married Debbie of course. By the way, she threw out a perfectly good loaf of wheat bread last week. There were only two green pieces! It’s too bad about your cat being missing. I read the notices your grandchildren made and it looked like Mittens’ pelt was really soft. So maybe we could get together sometime. Isn’t it OK for Mormons to marry other people? If not, maybe we could just dance or hold hands and sing or something. I’ll be on University Boulevard next Tuesday morning. Remember, “In the mist of a memory you wander back to me, Breathing my name with a sigh…”
Willow Creek Health Center