The Gilded Muse
In her book, “Queen of the Artist’s Studio”, German born artist Andrea Geyer would come to describe the moment at which her eyes met “the gaze of a woman” who was “golden” and “balancing delicately on top of a ball.” A first encounter with the famous statue at the tip of the Municipal Building that she describes as a “moment of intimacy between two living beings.”
Staring from her window at a studio on the 33rd floor of the Woolworth Building, where she was starting her artists residency, Geyer discovered that the statue, known as Civic Fame, bore the likeness of Audrey Munson, a long-forgotten New York model whose face and figure served as the muse for artist’s statues across Manhattan — 15 statues to be exact.
“All girls cannot be perfect 36s, with bodies of mystic warmth and plastic marble effect, colored with rose and a dash of flame,” Munson wrote, serving not only as the artist’s muse but also a critical voice against society’s lack of respect for models and challenging the prevailing standards of decency and beauty. Her strong nose and confident body had Munson celebrated as a personification of the Greek ideal of female body, but the fall from such peaks of Olympus in the second decade of the 20th century found Munson spending the last 65 years of her life in a mental hospital. Saki Knafo of the New York Times writes, “as though by an ironic oversight of some sculptor god, [Munson] ended up in an unmarked grave without even a tombstone bearing her name.”
Geyer, with the help of a New York arts group called Art in General, is raising money to buy a monument for Munson’s grave, in a cemetary in the upstate New York town of New Haven, near Oswego.
The Deadliest Yew
The Moon and The Yew Tree
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.
The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky –
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.
The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness -
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.
I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness – blackness and silence.
~Sylvia Plath
The yew is often found in churchyards from England and Ireland to Galicia; some of these trees are exceptionally large (over 3 m diameter) and may be over 2,000 years old. It has been suggested that the enormous sacred evergreen at the Temple at Uppsala was an ancient yew tree. It is sometimes suggested that these were planted as a symbol of long life or trees of death. The English Yew (taxus baccata) is one of the deadliest trees on the planet.
Links: Dark Roasted Blend– “Cute Killers: 16 Unassuming-but-Lethal Poison Plants” |
Wikipedia– Taxus baccata | Sylvia Plath Forum
Artwork by Heidi Burton, “The Moon and the Yew Tree”
Melted Keepsake
Ever caught from the corner of your eye a splendid bit of wonder that a melted down candle’s form had turned to. You have stared at it every day even as you burned it but only in that moment did you see what had become of its melted self and thought that that is the way you would like keep it forever and ever. Or, for a little less romanticism, ever see that candle that you’ve been burning on your kitchen counter and praying that your pain in the ass cat doesn’t decided to go skittering across to knock it over and set your home ablaze and thought that its dripping melted wax had managed to create something that looked cool as shit and wished you could keep it just like that forever. And then you figure what’s the point since you can’t use it for anything else other than burning — or collecting dust.
Well, Ted Muehling’s Vesuvious Candlestick has captured that melty moment in unglazed white porcelain. And for a mere $300 you can now hold dear that dust collecting object forever and quite possibly find some use for it. So go ahead and burn that candle.
Link: Moss Daily New
The Feather of My Pomander
Gilding has always had an infatuation with pomanders. While most think of pomanders in terms of those brightly colored balls of flowers splashed in every reality TV Bridezilla’s wedding, pomanders actually hold a more ironic sinister meaning.
Coming from the French term pomme d’ambre, i.e. apple of amber, a pomander is actually a ball made of perfumes, such as ambergris (Whence the name), musk, or civet. The pomander was worn or carried as a protection against infection in times of pestilience or merely as a useful article to mask odors. You know, lack of bathing and all. The globular cases which contained the pomanders were hung from a neck-chain or attached to the girdle, and were usually perforated and made of gold or silver.
Another modern form of the pomander is made by studding oranges or other such fruits with whole dried cloves and letting it cure dry, after which it may last indefinitely.
Now meet Gilding’s newest fascination. Ok, its not a pomander per se, for which ever design or deviation of the above you choose for your pomander graces, the key to the thing being a pomander is that it serves as a perfume, whether it be for person or for the aires that be there–in other words, the air around their stinky asses. But the design and softness of the Pluma Cubic Kugel suspension lamp by designer Heiki Buchfelder brings to mind the fleur that Gilding thinks of when designing her own assorted pomanders.
This suspension lamp, designed exclusively for Moss, is made from white goose feathers inserted into perforated cotton chintz over a steel frame. The lamp hangs from a brushed stainless steel cejiling canopy and adjustable steel cable.
But just as down anything goose down is expensive, the Pluma is no exception, priced at a whopping $6,715.
Link:
Wikipedia–Pomander | Moss Daily New
Rosebuds and Hanging Baskets
A teenage granddaughter comes downstairs for her date wearing a see-through blouse and no bra. Seeing this, her grandmother pitches a fit, telling her not to dare go out like that! Rolling her eyes, the teenager tells her grandmother, “Loosen up Grams. These are modern times. You gotta let your rose buds show!” And out she went.
The next day, the teenager comes downstairs to a ghastly vision. Her grandmother sitting there, as brazen as the day is long, with no top on. The teenager wants to die. She explains to her grandmother, in that high-pitched wail-with-words learned in tweenhood, that her friends are coming over and that her gradmother’s unseemly display is just not appropriate. The grandmother says, “Loosen up, Sweetie. If you can show off your rose buds, then I can display my hanging baskets.”
Happy Gardening.
Photograph by Matt Erwin
From Soap Suds & Fluff: the Return Toy Greatness
One of Gilding’s
favorite childhood toys
was her Wuzzle Ellaroo.
There was something
pleasantly comfortable
about his dopey yet
genuine and sincere
demeanor. But one of the
single most greatest
things about the toys of
the 80’s is that many, if
not most, came with a
story, a personality, a
community, and lessons
and values to be had and
shared that you don’t find in toys of today’s generation. At least not mass-market ones. What lessons could be learned from these new fangled toys are often shallow. Their sense of personality is often shallow. Their community is often shallow — oh, and pretentious and rife with a “give me more attitude”. Nothing anymore seems to be as wholesome as it used to.
So let Gilding now introduce you to a new world of toys that brings her faith back in what it means to be a kid.
Flizkins are mysterious creatures from a distant planet where new life emerged from floating clouds of wool and fluff left over from the wasteful asses on Earth. The fluffy residue tumbling about the universe conbined with particles of H2O and soapy alkaline flakes in one sudsy chemical reaction that brought to life the species now known as Flizkins with one deliciously soapy pop.
Living on the planet O’Sudds, so named by their ancestors due to the vast, deep oceans of bubbly suds that slosh about its surface, the Flizkins are naturally inquisitive and adventurous. This penchant, of course, is what drove them to find out more about the planets that wink so mysteriously at them in the night sky.
One wrong turn and a wildly off course burst into the Earth’s atmosphere sent 18 Flizkins crashing into the Earth’s surface, catapulting them across the globe in different directions. By the time they had found one another again, they had grown accustomed to our planet, even adopting some earthly characteristics and a love of music. Each one learning how to play a different instrument, the Flizkins formed an eclectic band and now travel about the globe, each a character unto themselves having a distinct personality, ability, and talent.
And, of course, Gilding’s favorite is Enoch, a Flizkin burdened burdened by the world’s most sensitive (and stuffy) nose, and allergic to even the most single speck of pollen, the tiniest piece of puff. And a penchant for ear-splitting, volcanic, blasts and bouts of sneezing that happen at the most inopportune times. Big and clumsy, and prone to stepping on other Flizkin’s tails, he overcomes his deep embarrassment by playing the triangle, as it makes him feel dainty. Oh, that, and any other instrument would affect his sensitive nose.
See, now that’s what makes a great toy! Soft and plushy and filled with as much imagination as polyfill, Sebold’s Flizkin’s are what make childhood companions out of toys and inspire wild adventures that we daydream back to well into our adulthood, and maybe even revisit every once in a while when no one else is looking.
Link: Sebold’s Originals
Animism at Its Funniest
Does anyone else see a striking resemblance to Jack Black?
Whoa! Hey, this is Gilding’s 600th post! Jesus, she’s such a slacker.
Passion in Paranoia
A gorgeous mix of scary and twisted, perverted and perverse, warped and titilating. Paranoia Dolls work on the mental insides in a mindfuck that is both disturbing and erotic. The faces border on that dangerous balance that slips in and out between nymphet and nympholept; between that of innocent child and the child not so innocent. Not knowing much else on the dolls than that they are creations by Hara, one only has to look at them to see the artisan craftsmanship present in the details, such as the delicate texture detailed in the lips and the varying epxression within plastic made eyes created with only expertly applied “makeup” to give them life and meaning when in reality none exists.
Click on the individual thumbnails above to see a larger version of the image.
Link: ParanoiaDoll Official Site COming Soon
Via: picvi.com
Gettin’ Blobby With It
Following its current exhibition at the SCI-arc Gallery in Los Angeles, Greg Lynn’s Blobwall Pavillion is slated to be presented at this year’s Venice Architecture Biennial to happen in mid-September. As part of the exhibition “Out There: Architecture Beyond Building”, the Blobwall Pavillion is a collaborative work between Greg Lynn who designed the form, Machineous who developed the manufacturing method for the “bricks”, and Panelite who produced and distributed the architectural material.
The Blobwall is an “innovative redefinition of the brick — architecture’s most basic building unit — into a lightweight object made out of colorful plastic and reinterpreted into modular elements.” This freestanding, indoor/outdoor wall system is built out of low-density, recyclable, impact-resistant polymer, and the “bricks” are robotically cut, mass produced, hollow tri-lobed shapes that are formed through rotational molding. These shapes are then assembled via interlocking to form the wall.
So in other words, this is one badass playground that you are sure to get in an ass-load of trouble for climbing on, but if you see this thing in person you must most definately climb the bitch and take pictures of your triumph before security sends you tumbling to your bone breaking doom.
Link: cut ‘n’ paste weblog
The Jenga Initiative
Think playing Jenga is fucking frustrating? How about living in a Jenga block.
Created by Sou Fujimoto Architects, the house draws upon the classic Japanese tower building (or in Gilding’s case, tower of “soon to meet its ultimate destruction”).
Using retangular cut cedar logs, the house actually only offers a 13′x13′x13′ cube space that amounts to accumulations of bits and pieces of sections of square footage here and there. If manipulating such a design structure from the outside fries your brain, try doing so from the inside as you attempt to find yourself some nook of comfortable affordability. And aside from its claustrophobic conditions, the home apparently also comes with the demand that only the hard wooden surfaces be used for all your furnishing needs like seating, sleeping, eating and storage. That is, for those individuals willing to rent the eco-initiative home, located in Kumakura, Japan.
Link: The Design Blog
Accordian Relief
Designed for disaster relief, the Recovery Shelter can house a family of four for a month with eco-friendly components, is cheap to produce, easy to produce, transports, configurate, and is reconfigurable, and adaptable to multiple environments. The shelter can be set up by a single individual in minutes, and collapsed into either of two configurations (horse-shoe or flat). And its made of 100% polypropylene, hence the recyclability.
The ridges of the Recovery shelter, created by its accordian-like design, can collect drinking water, and the structure can be covered in local materials for better insulation.
Shelter for the disaster ridden aside, the Recovery Shelter would make one bitchin’ camping tent.
From designers Matthew Malone, Amanda Goldberg, Jennifer Metcalf and Grant Meacham.
Link: Yanko Design
Good Penetration
Thailand has banned a line of condoms whose name translates to ‘Good Penetration’. Their argument — the suggestive name could tempt youngsters into having sex earlier.
So, contrary to
naughty penetration
goodness, the
name of the
condoms is actually
“Tom Dundee”, after the stage name of a popular country singer. But ministry officials, the cultural watchdogs responsible for the banning of penetration goodness, said the name, when translated, is inappropriate and offensive to the culture.
A spokeswoman for the Cultural Watch Center said, “Although the name is not vulgar or rude, it is ambiguous, boastful and provocative…It could entice excessive consumption and lure children and youths with little maturity to start having sexual activities before their appropriate age.”
But what does the singer, whose namesake is at the center of this controversy have to say? The singer, whose real name is Puntiva Poomiprates (yeah, Gilding would change her name too…well, Poomiprates is kinda hilarious — but Puntiva has to go), has defended lending his stage name to the condom brand saying, “You can’t stop human desire, no matter how old they are, so it is better to protect them.” But where’s the country song in that when everyone’s protected.
Link: The News Vault
