Lieblings mode.

dystopian, highly structured, a bit loligoth, medieval, ironic, deconstructive looks draw me in. and then there are the always chic, always sophisticated, high craftsmanship mainstays like Yves Saint Laurent.

1. Comme des Garcons: Rei Kawakubo and Junya Watanabe

The volume, structure, and tulle thing everyone is crazy about---Watanabe, a protege of Rei Kawakubo, definitely nailed this look in his big debut back in 2001.

stunning. If I acquired a dress like that, I would either display it somewhere, or most likely, find an excuse to wear it somewhere. or just wear it for no reason other than that I really like it. :-)

Rei Kawakubo. not a really good example of her work. Google images didn't have a lot of great images of stuff that I like.

Comme des Garcons. Anyone who dresses their models with bunny ears so that they look like the David Lynch bunnies is an inspiration to me!

2) Yohji Yamamoto: Victorian meets Orwell? and florals because it's spring?

and look at her hair.

3) Vivienne Westwood. The Tudors meet punk rock.

and her shoes are always insanely amazing.

4) Betsey Johnson. Say what you want about Betsey Johnson, I love her crazy, out of control, borderline slutty L.A. style. This may be blasphemous for some of you--but to me she's a bit of an American Vivienne Westwood. Not so much punk as she is pin-up/pulp girl. and we have a shared obsession with HOT PINK!

A look at the lady herself.

OMG LOVE!!!!!!! those ridiculous glasses top off the look.

5) BJORK. Say what you want again. the lady is an icon to me.

and we both admire Yoshinobu Araki

6) M.I.A. such a fun lady.

those are definitely the beloved AA vegas leggings.

M.I.A. for Marc Jacobs

Borderline drag. but i still love it. haha

Other notes: Things that influence my work. and if I ever became a designer I would think of these things.

Japanese transplants: Cibo Matto, Deerhoof.

Artists: Yoshitomo Nara, Takashi Murakami, Masami Teraoka, Kara Walker, Barbara Kruger, Yasumasa Morimura, Nobuyoshi Araki, Aya Takano, Chinatsu Ban (pretty much everyone in Kai Kai Kiki). Egon Schiele, Alice Neel
Cinema: Japanese Yakuza movies from 60's, Samurai movies, Tarantino, Japanese horror.
Music: Enka, Cibo Matto, Deerhoof, Polysics.
I want to start reading Haruki Murakami's stuff--starting with Kafka on the shore.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer has YELLOW FEVER!

From the Arts section of today's NY Times:



http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/05/books/05buffy.html?_r=1&ref=arts&oref=slogin

bahahhahhahahaha. what can I say, Japanese ladies are good in bed.

I love popular culture!

All kinds of fucked up.

1) ALADDIN: Does anyone find watching Disney movies uncomfortable? Don't get me wrong--I grew up with these movies and absolutely adored them. I'm pretty sure I was a princess every year for Halloween and I convinced my younger sister that her name was actually Jasmine. My favorite one changed from time to time--my current favorite is Snow White--because i'm in awe of the amazing amount of skill and care that went into hand painting each scene. And because I just love that vain old wicked witch. We would definitely get along. For a long time I really liked Beauty and the Beast.

omg. We could so hang out.

But. Something about the bold-faced artifice, rigid gender roles, tongue-less kissing, shameless stereotyping, pseudo-feminist moments, and exagerrated caricatures just make me want to stop watching. oh and the cheesy script. I know, I know, these are family movies made to cater to viewers with the attention span of a pigeon. but still. I can definitely appreciate these as products of the cultural age we live in.
and I hate to further ruin a "good thing," but "A WHOLE NEW WORLD" sounds to me like a song about sex. The allusions to orgasm are just too hard for me to ignore. No, Aladdin, I would NOT like to go soaring tumbling free-wheeling on your magic carpet ride. As much as i'm sure you can take me wonder by wonder, over sideways and under. I'm pretty sure female orgasms only exist in a "Disney" land of make-believe either way!
another thing--I have to go back and watch some other Disney stuff but Aladdin acts just like a regular guy. Saying anything to get in that girl's pants. and COME ON, Jasmine--how could you NOT tell that Jafar was hyponotizing your ineffectual father slash sultan. and yet you go on asking Aladdin if he thought you were stupid? Girl, maybe you should stop complaining about how shitty life is having everything served to you on a silver platter and open a fucking book.

okay. i'll stop hating on Disney (for now)--its not fair, I know--Disney is an easy target. haha

2) Nobuyoshi Araki: No brainer why I find this man immensely intriguing. (on the surface?) this man seems to get away with --not even borderline--pornographic "art" photography of contemporary Japan and Japanese women. He even looks like your stereotypical lecherous old man. Apparently his wife was his muse for a long time until she passed away--and his series featuring his work about her and surrounding her death are very humanizing and you begin to sympathize with him. But his other stuff, damn--google him. He makes American porn look like, well, a Disney movie.

here is one of his tame photographs. Look at those colors and that savage juxtaposition of decay, innocence, greed, and mangled fruit. It really reigns in your gaze and holds you there. stunning. Oh fellow Japanese people, we are so repressed and have the most perverse sexual fetishes.

3) Enka Music. LOVE IT AGAIN! the "Japanese blues" as they would call it. So much better than the chipmunk on speed, pop-y shit they churn out these days. Seriously. The new "J-pop" genre is making a farce of Kohaku. Old stuff forever y'all.

4) The Kill Bills: loved it the first and second time. and STILL LOVE IT. Nothing will ever be as good a pulp fiction--but comparing the kill bills and pulp fiction is like comparing apples and grapples. Same family, but different. and both good. Original is always fresh though.

...another Disney-related comment: SCAR is by far the hottest sounding Disney villain. Thanks to Jeremy fucking Irons. One of my favorite old British guys.

RETAIL THERAPY!

want. this. dress. I believe this is the material equivalent of valium.

I would call this an elegy but that would give this fiasco way too much credit. and it would be emo.

After crying my Lacrimal glands out non stop in self-pity for the past forty-eight hours I think that I may be approaching a tipping point. I have said my peace and have no regrets because it was precisely how I feel. This is interesting for me because its the first time that I, in spite of the sting of heartbreak and rejection, have said and done everything that I wanted in this disastrous relationship--and felt supremely honest about my actions. I tried my best, whole-heartedly, shamelessly, and with all earnestness.



.....AND conducted most of it over Instant Messenger. Not only a first for me, but also a testament to the distortion of human interaction via technology these days. No?

Looking at Adrienne Rich

Last night as I was NOT working on my art of Islam paper, I opened my fatty literature anthology from high school (good old X.J.K.) and rediscovered an Adrienne Rich poem that we read in English. Living in Sin She had thought the studio would keep itself; no dust upon the furniture of love. Half heresy, to wish the taps less vocal, the panes relieved of grime. A plate of pears, a piano with a Persian shawl, a cat stalking the picturesque amusing mouse had risen at his urging. Not that at five each separate stair would writhe under the milkman's tramp; that morning light so coldly would delineate the scraps of last night's cheese and three sepulchral bottles; that on the kitchen shelf amoong the saucers a pair of beetle-eyes would fix her own-- envoy from some village in the moldings... Meanwhile, he, with a yawn, sounded a dozen notes upon the keyboard, declared it out of tune, shrugged at the mirror, rubbed at his beard, went out for cigarettes; while she, jeered by the minor demons, pulled back the sheets and made the bed and found a towel to dust the table-top, and let the coffee-pot boil over on the stove. By evening she was back in love again, though not so wholly but throughout the night she woke sometimes to feel the daylight coming like a relentless milkman up the stairs. --Adrienne Rich

the proverbial "straw that broke the camel's back"

"The Last Straw": the last in a series of grievances or burdens that finally exceeds the limits of endurance.

The results of "MAKE THIS PHOTO BETTER" from February 7-14:




What was HELP MAKE THIS PHOTO BETTER? An ex of mine gave me a very large photograph that he took of a very phallic silo in the middle of nowhere. Intriguing, yes, by virtue of its content, but in its execution and overall composition--rather boring and mediocre. (Although I must admit, at the time that I accepted the photograph, I told my then boyfriend that it was beautiful and very postmodern.) Rather than leaving the photograph to collect dust in my closet, I decided to conduct an experiment in participatory art. I posted the image on my locker in the art building and bid anyone to effectively do what ever they wanted to the image. Most people stuck to writing and painting on the image, as you can see.

(special thanks to the ex for providing the photograph that served as the foundation for this experiment.) how you like them apples?

on a side note: I think, contrary to popular belief, that I am actually capable of falling in love. I think that i've come closer to the perimeter of love than before--and I now hypothesize that one has fallen in love if one has sacrificed every last shred of his/her dignity for the object of desire. Because now (after numerous attempts at retail therapy) I am not only utterly broke but also missing my dignity--I have lost my pride (however temporarily). Despite the mass of recent purchases, I have not one article of clothing that will cover my ass.