Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Memory # 2 / The Origin of Trouble

"Can I have a pack of American Spirit Lights?"

"That'll be $4.25."

Memory # 3 / The origin of Trouble

"Do you have a car? Can you take me home?"

"No, but I can take you to my room."

Monday, March 27, 2006

Memory #1 / The origin of trouble

"This is Jon."

"Hello, it's nice to meet you."

"I hate you."

"Why do you hate me?"

"I just do."

Monday, March 13, 2006

Love Art Lab

Annie Sprinkle is doing a 7 year art project all about her relationship with her partner, Elizabeth Stephens. In describing the live performances put on by the couple, Sprinkle says "We create a theater/performance art show about our relationship exploring artificial insemination, breast cancer treatments, queer weddings, art experiments, aging, sexuality and more. As a response to the war, anti-gay marriage sentiment and the politics of breast cancer, we invite everyone to a genuine celebration and critical public exploration of the deepest realms of romantic, sexual and familial love to bring about positive social change."

The website includes photos of art exhibits and performances put on by the couple. Each year will explore a different facet of love, and each year is represented by a different color of the rainbow.


I love to see art projects where the artists is able to say "My life is art." Without artifice, the feeling and emotions experienced by a person are ART. I personally think that there is a poetry to each moment we experience. Sprinkle's art project embraces this. Our everyday emotional experiences can be reflected and appreciated.

Reminds me much of Tracy Emin. When I was in Amsterdam, there was a tent, in which Emin had sewn the name of every person she had ever slept with. Is one's kissing book art? Why not?

Thursday, March 09, 2006


America's Next Top Model is back in season. I'm a happy camper. I watched the premiere last night. Most of all I wondered how it must feel to NOT be picked. Women live their entire lives subconsciously believing that the ultimate achievement for a woman is to be beautiful, and then you work really hard to get on this show to be told that you are not good enough. You do not hit the mark of beauty.
I imagine the long term effects could be crippling. One could make a similar argument about American Idol.
On the contrary, I wish Janice Dickinson was still a judge. Even though she was a mega-bitch, I think her criticism was usually more thoughtful, and instructive than Twiggy.
Janice worked against the demure female personality. I miss her aggresiveness.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

  • Link

  • I'm going to be a crafty spinster someday. Just like these old australian ladies who knit an entire room with knitted cakes, record covers, and hamburgers. It's like YaYoi Kosama. Everyday art!

    Tuesday, March 07, 2006

    Meditation on the Idea of Love -- Excerpt: Everything is Illuminated

    Brod's life was a slow realization that the world was not for her, and that for whatever reason, she would never be happy and honest at the same time. She felt as if she were brimming, always producing and hoarding more love inside her. But there was no release. Table, ivory elephant charm, rainbow, onion, hairdo, mollusk, Shabbos, violence, cuticle, melodrama, ditch, honey, doily . . .None of it moved her. She adressed her world honestly, searching for something deserving of the volumes of love she knew she had within her, but to each she would have to say, I don't love you. Bark-brown fence post: I don't love you. Physics, the idea of you, the laws of you: I don't love you. Nothing felt like anything more than what it actually was. Everything was just a thing, mired completely in its thingness.

    If we were to open to a random page in her journal -- which she must have kept and kept with her at all times, not fearing that it would be lost, or discovered and read, but that she would one day stumple upon that thing that was finally worth writing about and remembering, only to find that she had no place to write it--we would find some rendering fo the following sentiment: I am not in love.

    She had to satisfy herself with the idea of love--loving the loving of things whose existence she didn't really care at all about. Love itself became the object of her love. She loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. It was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist.
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