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October 28th, 2006
04:01 pm - Talented people of the world Unite! Chapter 1.
Recently I've stumbled upon a Chicago artist by the name of Kerry James Marshall. At first I was like "Ooh?", and then I got hit over the head. Critical art at its best. Makes me want to stretch my own canvases and start painting again. I shall attempt to be unassumingly political... when I grow up, of course.
 
Disclaimer: Please don't sue me. I'm a fan.
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August 17th, 2005
01:55 am
What does one do at 1 am on Wednesday morning to avoid boredom? Why, be stuck at a club listening to a wannabe funk-rock-star grunting into a microphone to get some girly action. While laughting at the performance at a live is not something I'm known for, it was pretty hard to avoid at Chromeo (sp?) set.
Anyway, I think this photo was taken by Karl, but I'm not too sure. This is a glimpse of how I want to be dressed when I'll hit mid 30's. Mostly monochromatic black and grey insanely well-proportioned clothes, with crispy unusual white shirts and an occasional burst of colour: tangerine, scarlet, chartreuse, lemon. Comme des Garcons, Junya, Dries Van Noten, Anne Demeulemeester, with a bit of Alexander McQueen and lots of Yohji, not to mention some new talent. Basically, Japanese, Belgians and those who can cut a mean coat. Until then, it's play time! From dandies to kabuki and back to rockabilly I shall explore my muchly neglected at the time adolescence in an attempt to recover its pieces, and in similar fashion leap in the air.
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August 15th, 2005
11:48 pm
From an old blog dated July 5, 2003
...the streets of this uninteresting strange city. City is not a very good word. I can compare it better to a passenger on an airplane sitting next to you. You remain seated so closely for hours perfectly aware of each other's presence, yet oblivious to each other's lives. Once you land you'll never see each other again... thank god, for most cases. Edmonton is my airplane neighbour.
It's somehow comforting to witness the thoughts that one no longer has any memory of. One small benefit of having electronically recorded journal is its ease with which irrelevant information can be accessed pretty much anytime. In less than 9 days my life will be turned up-side down for the fourth time, yet I shall look fondly at the this journal and remember things that otherwise would have just slip through the cracks caused by everyday redundancy. I am glad that I came here and glad that I no longer feel the same way about this city. I have learned a lot, which is one small benefit of having a life.
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July 25th, 2005
12:29 pm
I. Need. To. Stop. Working!!!!
It supposed to be day 12 of my vacation. Vacation = NO work, or at least supposed to. F"$*&@#%*&~
HEEEEELP!!!!!! I need a break and working for free is not nearly as fun as I thought it might be, especially when I should be posting pictures of my 4" rockabilly shoes, practicing pompadour and perfecting pin curls. Gym? What is gym????
I need to stop this bullshit! Finally, time to get a life, and I can't. FUCK!
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July 17th, 2005
10:33 pm - It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that...
You got it. I introduce my newest obsession:
Three lessons and one dance party later, I am a convert and an addict with no plans of slowing down. I've been listening to a lot of early jazz and swing records lately, almost to the point of it not being healthy. I'm trying to break the limits of my musical horizons a little bit. A recent venure into country music may scare some, but beautiful things can be found in unsuspected places. It's a twisted form of the treasure hunt.
I also have discovered that twenty-something rockabilly guys with pompadours, mad dancing skills and plenty of attitude on their sleeves are in fact pretty fun people to spend Saturday with. Okay, I just met one and hardly talked, but old-fashioned dancing is more fun. Here, I fold my 40-inch phat pants (until Halloween), any desire to learn liquid with whatever remnants of rave culture left in me. With corsetted Dita Von Teese pinned up to the wall, I shall rock-step to the beat of Duke Ellington into the very thing I thought I could never do. In a couple of months, if I won't resemble a 40's gal there is no justice. This morning I picked up a pair of animal-print cat's eye glasses. Oh, yeah... it has began.
Upcoming:
1. Calgary Stampede and a picture of me in a pseudo-cowboy hat
2. Being a rockabilly poser is never complete without red lipstick, all 17 shades of it.
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June 23rd, 2005
08:54 pm - Mr. Yorke
Because years later I'm still bitter of not hearing Kid A (or anything else) live in hot-wave-ridden Chicagoan summer.
Photographer James Dimmock wrote in 2000: "I gave each memeber of the band a piece of cardboard and a pen and asked them to write how they would genetically change themselves. All these points were then retouched on the photograph. Genetics was a concern of Thom's during the Kid A time."
I could break into a 4 page soliloquy and say something unnecessary along the lines that the very things which in our heads make us ugly are the ones that bring out true beauty to surface, but I won't.
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June 18th, 2005
09:15 pm - Next in line of my affections...
I fell in love with a little movie called Mad Hot Ballroom". Facing a choice between overstimulating my visual senses by sights of Brad and Angelina or the Batboy, as opposed to searching for a vintage theatre in hopes of viewing a "dancing documentary" we opted for the latter. Joie de Vivre of mega-proportions! If you want a slice of heart with a cherry on top all appropriatly staged to the soundrack of rumba and swing look no further. Talent without boundaries all coming from people less than half my age.
Three things were learned from it all: 1. My dream of becoming a New Yorker is alive and well. 2. I must take ballroom lessons. 3. I should adopt all underpriviledged kids. I think one out of 3 is more than doable.
Also recently discovered is the musical brilliance of Sarah Vaughan and Shivkumar Sharma. Music can be so good sometimes.
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June 13th, 2005
09:29 pm
'Twas the time how I discovered glossy goth, namely, in a public library looking at Vogue magazine back in 1998.
True story, tres lame.
Shot by Steven Meisel and stored in the jungles of my virus-eaten harddrive, this is my favourite (the only) Versace campaign. It was like: IT'S ARRIVED!!!, mainstream and all. The photos are alluring and indirectly it all brings back the memories of high school. If only I had the guts to dye my hair dark purple back in the day... Here, I raise this glass to mid-twenties and self-reassurance with which I fearlessly wear my ludicrous accessories... outside and in broad daylight.
( I'm so over macabre arts )
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08:47 pm - Nota Bene I: Here's looking at you kid...
Brought by a venture into recycling a ton of expired drawings. In an attempt to increase my own literacy by avoiding the pittfalls of limited short term memory I make notes of clever things, which can be occasionally read in books. Half of the page almost faded so in an attempt to prolong its life a bit longer I shall post it here, and turn the page to ashes.
Bodily metamorphosis and the physical consequences of "moral" causes
( and the rest )
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June 12th, 2005
10:17 pm - Fangirl escapisms...
I shall forget it all, so here it is, to stay and to embarrass the author.
Subconscious by playing tricks on my unstable psyche has chosen to revert itself into a state of an impressionable teenage girl. The daily noise of local gossip bees that swears that Mr. Brad Pitt himself will be coming to this city in July to shoot a movie was the very last straw. Earlier in the week, infuriated by the arrogance of Mr. Pitt in relation to MY profession I crossed his name out from my mental worship list with a red dripping pen. (Explanation: Architecture is, like... demanding and sorta needs, well.. I dunno... training! And he kisses Frank Gehry's ass, Ugh! There are much better asses out there. But I guess kissing one's own ass would be challenging even for Mr. Pitt.) Ahem.... Fate intervened and the recent screening of the sappiest-melodramatic-piece-of-teenage-fluff-ever-to-be-put-on-celluloid-and-shot-in-the-Southern-Alberta (read: Legends of the Fall) concluded that Mr. Pitt may join the wonderful architectural profession anytime his design-loving heart pleases with a condition that on few occassions he would be dressed as Tristan when he came back after years of soul-searching. (Explantion: Most famous architects are unpleasant to look at. Even though I'd be Normal Foster's groupie anytime) Harsh words are taken back, and drippy pen is laboriously removed. During the opening credits, I believe I lost 40 IQ points, the reason which may partially explain statements along the lines of "I'd so do him!" and "O.M.G. He's SO fucking hot!", every 4 minutes.
Ahem... where was I? Oh, yes.... See, I had a dream that I was purchasing a telephoto lens the size of CanadARM, specifically to be taking paparazzi pictures of the aforementioned subject. Strolling along the icy surface of what appeared to be the Rideau Canal (!?!) mere meters ahead of Mr. Pitt I was clicking away, freezing every passing moment, not in hopes of selling the goods, but preserving such marvel of male speciement for eternity of my solitary old age.
Note to self: Please get a life and start the process of recovering precious IQ points. No.More.Television.
P.S. Today is the day I saw a trail of star-shaped confetti on a cold outside pavement, for real. Rose-coloured lenses didn't even need to be put to use.
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June 9th, 2005
11:41 pm - I've been tagged...
Judging by the wild success and popularity of my last meme, I'm glad this one is short.
( boring stuff behind the cut )
In rotation:
1. Interpol - Slow Hands
2. Postal Service - Such Great Heights
3. Nine Inch Nails - Hurt
4. Billy Holiday - Speak Low
5. The Bravery - Honest Mistake (oh, the shame! I've considered writing something more respectable, but I'm being, well... honest)
( 5 people whose music library I'd love to steal )
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June 8th, 2005
12:16 am - At first sight...
I fell in love with this dress.
( if only I'd have same escort )
A hybernating anachronism is ever so closely reaching to the surface.
Nota Bene: Why is the back of it so presumptuously Edwardian? Because what else a girl to do when the proportion is so right?
Hurray, my mother's dusty sewing machine! I'll be home by September!
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June 1st, 2005
11:42 pm - First of a kind, but not last...
My name was called and I shall gladly oblige:
1) Total number of books owned?
In my temporary Albertan home of 2 years: 27-28
Back home in Ontario: probably way over 100 (a lot of which are picture books, and great things I have yet to read)
2) The last book(s) I bought?
Opium: A Portrait of the Heavenly Demon (Barbara Hodgson, non-fiction)
3) The last book I read?
Siddhartha (Hermann Hesse)
4) 5 books that mean a lot to me? (assuming only fiction):
1. One Hundred Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
2. Master and Margarita (Mikhail Bulgakov)
3. Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy)
4. Invisible Cities (Italo Calvino)
5. Moonlight Shadow (Banana Yoshimoto)
Bonus 1: 5 books I need to read immediately:
1. War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy)
2. Architecture and the Crisis of Modern Science (Alberto Perez-Gomez)
3. Guns, Germs and Steel: The Fate of Human Societies
4. The Order of Things (Michel Foucault)
5. The End of Modernity (Gianni Vattimo)
Bonus 2: 5 books that I would love to own: (straight cut from amazon wishlist)
1. Dressing the Galaxy ( to-die-for 280$ limited edition)
2. The Sphere and the Labyrinth (impossible to find, reasonably, by Manfredo Tafuri)
3. Dreams Through the Glass: Windows from Bergdorf Goodman (Linda Fargo, picture book)
4. X-Ray by Francois Nars (picture book)
5.Time Museum Catalogue of the Collection: Time Measuring Instruments, Part 1 : Astrolabes, Astrolabe Related Instruments
6. Kabuki Costume (Ruth M. Shaver)
5) Tag 5 people and have them fill this out on their ljs:
Don't have to put it in your LJ, but simply reply to post if your so kindly inclined. I'd love to know what all of you who read this post have to say, but I'm especially curious about the following people's libraries:
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) bjorne_again, brassy111, bronfish, linarticulate, silent_bunny aaaaaaaaaand sarisa
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May 30th, 2005
11:30 pm - Goodbye winter comfort, hello migranes.
Today I sing a song to a mortal goddess, all flesh yet myth, a bizarre hybrid of Gina Lollobrigida and my own Greek grandmother. Anna Magnani is a sex symbol whom even those residing on a pedestal of worship could not touch. My limiting words fail, so I merely step away in marvel.
A French channel in customary manner was showing a brilliant documentary about Anna which I could not decifer. Note that all respectable television in the prairies is broadcast in either French or Italian languages (latter save for soft porn). A forgotten interest in Italian Cinematograhic Realism of the 60's is newly minted, as well as a desire to speak another language. Italian would be divine, as a fantasy of gallopping through countless architectural milestones from Renaissance to Baroque while chatting in such vivid tongue never really leaves me. Ah, yes... I love Baroque, but not for pedestrian reasons. Call me a dreamer. Further pondering yielded that Polish is more attainable. The pleasure of telling people that I can speak 3 languages is too great, especially while cutting corners. Who doesn't want to be called Pani?
P.S. I'm fighting an insane compulsive urge of pre-ordering a 185$ book, and that is in US funds. Linh and Karine you might know what I'm talking about, and I'm thinking that I'm not alone. Tuition? What tuition?
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May 5th, 2005
11:21 pm - Guilty pleasures = picture books
In near or not so near near future, the plan is to acquire these (but not before my architectural shelf will go through serious upgrade. Yosh, I'm getting all 4 volumes of Renzo Piano's details, soon. Hurray!):
I am not sure what is it about 70's and 80's visuals that appeals to me with whistfulness and nostalgia. From birth of subculture to the annual rite of passage it's terribly interesting. Maybe it's due mostly to authenticity. These people weren't playing in costumes, it was their way of life, which makes it ever so interesting. Fruits are just for kicks while We're desperate is a real deal. The later was spotted in New York, but how does one spend hard-exchanged American cash on pictures books, when one tries on velvet bowler hats?
 
 
P.S. I left my favourite goose-feather pillow in Brooklyn. I have unfinished business in that city.
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10:26 pm - 2 days observations...
1 - Lunch hour. Due to my uttermost detest of domestic responsibilities and lack of culinary skills of any basic levels lunch is bought daily from overpriced market vendors. Walking along the path right at the heart of downtown me and just as equally hundry friend found a whole bag of weed. It's a pretty funny picture if you actually see it in broad daylight. A zip-lock third-full of Canadian (I assume) marijuana. I was assured by my friend that it's the second time she'd seen one of those in 2 weeks.
We looked. We laughed. We kept going.
2 - Walking home from a stuffy architect reception. Since blending in the aforementioned visually non-descript architectural mess of accomplished firm-owners have never been a priority, knee-high fire-engine red socks, red shoes, vintage looking red tote and a flower the size of my boob were utilized to their fullest in otherwise a rather boring outfit. On the way back a fire truck was cruising around and a driver gave me a thumbs up which I accredit to the matching properties of my accessories to their mean-looking vehicle (since I can't possibly fathom how anything else of mine might ellicit such a supportive non-verbal argument from an Albertan firefighter. Trust me y'all, it's not my body). I'll take it, nonetheless. It's not the first time my socks get an ovation. Oh, shut up, let me gloat in my glory.
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May 4th, 2005
10:51 pm - I only watch reality tv and documentaries...
That's it!!! I've had it and will keep quiet no longer. I'm going on ANTM rant and will proclaim my true love for Project Runaway.
First thing first and minus the spoilers. What the hell is that show turning into?!? How many times I've heard that witch say that "you take amazing pictures" and merrily send poor broken creature home? The competition is supposed to be about the pictures. I think I'm not getting something here, or my view of fashion industry is completely whack, but models take pictures and walk. End of story. They don't talk, they hardly ever smile at a runaway (and I prefer them non-smiling and non-talking) and I sure as hell don't want to know their "real self". It's the dumbest comment that I keep hearing. Just because a poor and scared creature is crying doesn't mean that someone can claim to know their "true self". I'm just dumbfounded by the fact that Tyra tries to show off modeling industry as anything other than walking and posing. That pretty much what the work comes down to. She makes it a pageant and I swear the winner will get a tiara this season.
The show can be so much fun, instead it just turns more and more into Tyra's thinly disguised self-promotion. Show me the process of freaggin' make-up being done (that would send me into euphoria), talk to stylists, artists, photographers. BLAH!!!! I'm beginning to really hate that woman. Oh, and that awful red wig also must go.
Onto the project Runaway. Thank you Canada for bringing it like a year late, but I love you still. It's the best show ever. I'm so hopelessly addicted because the focus never shift from making clothes. I have no deity to worship and to be reminded of every 2 minutes, thank god.
Okay, I got that out of my system. I can go back to pretending to be introspective and cultured now. Um, false hope, I know.
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May 2nd, 2005
12:11 am
( +5 )
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May 1st, 2005
04:56 pm - I'll delete this later..
I just have a question if anybody knows how to get a microscopic fraction of a metal splinter out when it's not even visible? I'm just afraid that it will sink further and further inside the tissue. Should I check it out even if I can't prove that it's there? Do you think it will surface on it's own after a while? It's the metal part that I find troubling.
Hello needless worrying.
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April 28th, 2005
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