///PRITEMPS///

spring showers

 to see the dirt but not feel the hurt

a bit of cleaning 'fore the summer

a sore mood washes out her eye

and the other only softly shut

crying just as much but stuck

to the other end of the spectrum

with blues with violets with indigos it goes

with the ghouls and the ghosts

of regrets passed

drip dropping pouring past that beauty-

mark. her words:

she'll fix this. while fixing her hair

brushing it away from swollen slit

sweeping the dust and bother

a bothersome eye and lips to tremble

a treble yell and not for wolf

beyond, a symphony chamber..

spring showers

to wash away the dirt but still see the hurt

///KLIMT///

At my all girls high school in Auckland, complete with preppy holiday-appropriate uniform, we briefly covered Gustav in art class. The femmes with the dreamy hair always alive with envious volume, floating along the periphery. A few years ago, I came across Fish Blood online during a search for a painting that mimicked the feelings competing against one another in my body at that moment: lost, carefree, stagnant, free-spirited, trapped, wild, cyclical, unpredictable, longing for something in particular but no idea what. On Saturday at [The Getty], in the 'Spirit of an Age: Drawings from the Germanic World' exhibition, that drawing made its way back into my life--a glass case offered an antique art book open to the exact page featuring Fish Blood. About his other similarly themed works it was noted: her luxuriant hair cascading around her head as if caught by a current of air or water; the fluid stylized treatment of the model's body and hair suggests his enduring identification of women with water--unbounded, immaterial and elusive--a common motif in his work.

Fish Blood
Gustav Klimt 1898

Playground Love

Air

///GETTY///

Is it not unusual for such a smile to mask the most devastating of frowns?

An all black ensemble draped upon the seemingly merry,

"Photographs can be lies too you know."

I remember when we took photographs merely to act as permanent memories of past events. They were candid & real. So it's an odd thing now taking photos with the rear-thought & omnipresent influence of: I want to impress others with these photographs. Hyper-aware & vain. This is not to say I am not guilty of this too, just pointing out that I miss the humble photographs & home videos of my childhood. The ones that were pretty much strictly for family reference, not for world wide web publicity. The evolved psychology from pre-internet days to post-internet days is intriguing to say the least.

Enjoy.

///LEATHER///

Spectacles & shades have been crossed off the list,

now for a [La Mer] watch, a [Vlieger & Vandam] bag, & an [Iosselliani] ring:

NB: for marila merzies exclusively.

Florian Maier-Aichen
[Galatea]

S&M

Rihanna

///COVERUP///

Around the age of seventeen, I blessed myself with one of the greatest gifts of teenagekind: what was to be referred to, shortly after, as a notorious tribal tramp stamp; an infamous meaningless LBT. I could just go to [Homeboy Industries] & have it removed for free, but that takes a long time & success isn't guaranteed. Besides, I'm pretty convinced a removal scar would just as badly say "hi, I once had a tribal lower back tattoo." I'd rather just cover it up & extend it into something I truly won't regret. Not sure exactly what but something perhaps abstract perhaps not, but definitely intricately technical yet elegant. Something I will look in the mirror backwards at & say "fuck my tattoo is fucking dope." Something I can wear crop tops & super low jeans with devoid of shame.

I have a general shape in mind: something that will cover up the existing tatt gracefully & carry it halfway up my spine to a point in a sort of tent-like shape.

An idea of some of the art I like that may be relevant:

Ixchel Lara

Augustine Kofie

Jose Parla

Gustav Klimt

Yoshitaka Amano

Stella Im Hultberg

Seventeen

Ladytron

///TICHÝ///

Miroslav Tichý: an inimitable talent.

Everything in his photographic process he created himself: the cameras, the editing, the photo frames.

He had a soft voyeuristic vision that gave way to seemingly metaphysical results; innocent, ghastly and divine.

"Photography is something concrete, a perception, what you see with your eyes. And it happens so fast that you may not see anything at all! To photograph is to paint with light! The flaws are part of it. That's what makes the poetry. And for that you need a bad camera. If you want to be famous, you have to be worse at something than everyone else in the world!"

Rest in photographs

11/20/26-04/12/11