Friday, 26 August 2016

I'm Not Perfect But I'm Perfect For You

I was watching Grace Jones music videos and I realised something about my two favourites I'm Not Perfect But I'm Perfect For You, and Slave to the Rhythm: they both show artists at work. Slave to the Rhythm opens with an artist making the famous image of Grace with the elongated neck that would eventually became the cover art. I'm Not Perfect shows Keith Haring painting a massive piece of material that would become a skirt that Grace goes on to wear in in the video. (There are also great cameos from Andy Warhol, Nile Rogers, and Timothy Leary)

I think my favourite pictures of Keith Haring are ones that show him working. The same goes for Basquiat. I don't know what it is about watching people work, watching people create. Beyond fascination and voyeurism, there's an intimacy about seeing how the sausage is made. I find it really motivating too because no matter how talented and genius an artist or writer is, seeing them work emphasises that yes they are humans, and they worked with their hands, for hours and hours, often making mistakes and starting again, crafting something beautiful.

Saturday, 20 August 2016

Normally I Don't Like Pink

Diana Ross by Bruce Davidson
Kwesi Abben Sett Studio


I haven't done a moodboard in a while. These are some images I've recently reblogged on my tumblr. The photos of the estates were taken by Laurent Kronental in Paris, and they're of these estates which I find amazing. All the thousands of photos I've seen of Paris, I've never seen any of the estates. Here's an article about the photographer's project covering the forgotten modernist estates of Paris.

Thursday, 18 August 2016

Kennedy Trash

I've been going to bed around 3am almost everyday since I quit my job. The half hour before I shut my laptop is spent on Youtube confirming my ultimate trashiness by watching JFK tribute videos. 

I wish I could tell you how this started but I honesty have no idea. Okay, maybe a little bit of an idea. Probably some sort of latent yearning for the return of Scandal and House of Cards, and all the mess of the US presidential elections, and it's summer and I live in a sort of inner city village. I felt to take a visit to "Camelot" via Vermont

Now. Everything I know about the Kennedys I know from A Level History studying the Cold War, Conan O'Brien's impressions, The Simpsons, a couple documentaries on Yesterday and good old Wikpedia. 

But it's far too easy, especially when you're curled up on the sofa in the early hours of the morning, to fall into the trap of the aesthetic. It's easy to get drawn into the tell-me-I'm-your-National-Anthem-Kennedy. Especially when Baby!Kennedy had a face like this:

And I've been unable to resist on multiple occasions. I've steered clear of the fanfiction, though. Yes, there absolutely is presidential fanfic. Most of it is just downright surreal and hilarious ... from what I've heard! There's a lot of tribute videos out there from the more objective and historical record of achievement, to the dreamy and nostalgic. 

Here are my favourites. Bobby gets a shoutout too. 

I'm not naive, I know how problematic the idealisation of the Kennedys and "Camelot" are. But sometimes I just want a little escapism, you know? I mean I once made a zine analysing in intense detail THIS moment between Reagan and Former Soviet Union leader Mikhail Gorbachev (nothing sexual, mind you! Just to amuse myself because I sometimes have the sense of humour of an 80s comedian, and conspiracy theories make me laugh. Look at Gorbachev's face).

So yeah, this is how I've been spending the last few evening this week.

p.s I just remembered a story I wrote a couple of years ago about Gorbachev working in Pizza Hut. Does that count as presidential fanfiction?? Gah, I'm trashhhhhhh!!!

Wednesday, 17 August 2016


To say it has been a while would be an understatement. And not a lot has even happened.

I turned 22, and the day began as usual with feelings of despair, and annoyance because 22 isn't easily divisible by 7 or 4, by favourite numbers and a whole load of other things I made up to explain why I felt weird about turning a year older. 

I also left my department store job so I can have a little bit of a holiday because I'm intending to go back to University for a Masters in September. We had a leaving do, one I was reluctant to organise for fear of rejection, but it was great. We had fun, we laughed, took photos, I was presented with cute gifts. On the train I felt strange, like I was suspended above my seat. There was the jarring feeling of something having been severed prematurely, but also the weightlessness associated with finally being free. 

I bought the diaries of Franz Kafka, King of Anxiety but I'm waiting to finish re-reading Keith Haring's Journals for the third time. I also bought Maggie Nelson's Bluets, which I'm excited to read, my favourite colour being blue.

It's about 335 days since restarted my writing streak. I've made the promise that when I get to 365 and I'll start blogging here every day, so no more long absences.

What's been going on with you lot?



Sunday, 24 July 2016

Jeff Goldblum is Trying To Kill Me

If anybody is out there, this may be the last time we speak for a while.

I'm currently bunkered down in a location I can't disclose. I packed up what I could and left before daybreak in fear for my life. The farewell to my family and my Steve Buscemi framed print was gut-wrenching but they understood that I had to leave for their safety as well as mine because...

Jeff Goldblum is trying to kill me.

Anybody who reads this blog and knows me, will have sensed that I love Jeff Goldblum. And despite not personally knowing me, I would have thought Goldblum would reciprocate in that vague but universal teen superstar agape "I love all my fans" way. But no, I am convinced he is trying to kill me.

My suspicions first arose when he took this photoshoot but I brushed it off. He may be eccentric, but he's no killer.

But then I saw this, and I knew it was no mistake. He is actually gunning for me.

by Michael Schwartz for Icon El Pais

by Michael Schwartz for Icon El Pais

The tan. the salt and pepper. The long ass legs. The man is in his 60s! LET ME LIVE!

And I'm not the only one. Even Evan Ross, the style editor for Mic, was alarmed.

Mr Goldblum, you cannot do these things to people. It's not right. I don't know when I will be able to emerge from this safehouse, but I will forever be on guard. Who knows when this man will strike again!

Stay safe