We were drinking some cheap wine and discussing some of our plans for the (hopefully) soon to arrive warm weather. To help in visualizing just how we would be enjoying our upcoming summer beach/river excursions, we decided to look at bathing suits online. We stumbled upon what is maybe the best/worst website ever, skinzwear.com. Basically it is a weird sex clothing store for people with no taste that is masquerading as a “swimwear” shop.
Here are our choices for this summer from the fabulous skinzwear collection. We both decided to stay classy and go with a modest one piece…
..my favorite scene from one of my favorite films.
I’m sure most of you have seen the film Mulholland Drive by now, but I just wanted to remind you of this scene, featuring what is for me the most effective use of music in any film ever:
The first time I saw David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive was a rather postmodern experience. I was on an official date (the last pre-Paul one I ever had. It’s been 6.5 years now) of movie and a dinner. We were at a small independant theater in western MA, with maybe 5 other strangers. We both ended up breaking down in tears just like the characters.
It was wierd.
And maybe the most visceral movie going moment I have ever had…
This scene is of course the key to understanding the whole (non-linear) film. It has to do with false representions and fantasy and all this other stuff that is impossible to explain if you haven’t seen the movie. Regardless, I think that Rebekah Del Rio’s spanish version of Roy Orbinson’s hit song is not reliant in cinematic context to be a moving piece of art.
To see Roy Orbinson performing the original English version of this song live in 1972, click below….
“LucyandBart is a collaboration between Lucy McRae and Bart Hess described as an instinctual stalking of fashion, architecture, performance and the body. They share a fascination with genetic manipulation and beauty expression. Unconsciously their work touches upon these themes, however it is not their intention to communicate this. They work in a primitive and limitless way creating future human shapes, blindly discovering low – tech prosthetic ways for human enhancement.”
-Official Artist’s Statement
For more of these amazing images, check out their website, LUCYANDBART
Whether it be for the purpose of visual trickery (such as in Victorian stereoscopic photography), or as a means of making a statement about modern obsession and celebrity ( the most well known practitioner being Andy Warhol), the use of repetition as an modern artistic tool has always held a certian allure. By putting forward the striking sameness in a group of images, the viewer’s immediate intellectual response to this brand of art is to assign great importance to whatever differences do exist.
Artist Susan Dobson’s 2004 photographic collection No Fixed Address begs the question:If there truelly is a natural drive within human’s to find and create variation when reacting to repetition, then how does this need for controlled chaos manifest itself in our day-to-day lives? The answer becomes apparent when studying what is possibly one of the most visually jarring self inforced uses of man made repitition: tract housing in modern American suburbs. These highly planned communities use repeating or alternating floor plans and designs. Driving down a street in one of these neighborhoods it is easy to become lost as a result of the immidiate sense of deja-vu and confusion that sets in. In fact, developers of tract housing have created the design element of building curved streets even when geological factors don’t require it. This is done in order to prevent the creation of an endless repetitive horizon and the disheartening emotional reaction it would cause to a resident.
A similiar dissorienting affect is created in the presentation of Dobson’s No Fixed Address, in which the identically cropped images are hung in such a way as to mimic the visual sameness of her subject. Each photograph features the startalingly duplicated front entranceway of one of these homes. Each house has the same basic door, windows, bricks, and pillars. The slight differences that begin to emerge outside of that combination are all a result of individual intervention and the effects of aging. Some home owners choose to alter their walkways or paint their doors. Others make dramatic landscaping choices. The color of the brick facade is slightly weathered over time. However they choose to do it, all residents have found ways to stamp the immediate world around them as uniquely their own.
At the root of Dobson’s study seems to be a question of the confused duality of our human desire to at once find comfort in familiarity, but to also challenge the validity of that comfort. Though No Fixed Address does seem to be saying that there is a certain individual beauty and warmth that shines through in even the most uninspiring of conditions, Dobson chooses not to offer a direct qualitative answer to her overarching question. Instead, we are left to ponder our own existence as one of many, and to ask ourselves, “Am I doing enough?”
(above: top and middle- Three pieces from KayLynn Deveney’s The Day-to-Day Life of Albert Hastings. Bottom- View of show from Blue Sky Gallery in Portland)
There is an obvious and intentional duality to photographer KayLynn Deveney’s new project, The Day-to-Day Life of Albert Hastings, now showing at the Blue Sky Gallery here in Portland. For this series, Deveney photographed the everyday routines of her then neigbor, 85 year old Albert Hastings, during her time studying in Wales.
Upon first viewing this collection, the ritualized nature of Hastings simple daily tasks, as well as the gratification that accomplishing them brings, becomes immediately apparent. However, the true importance of this show derives less from the viewers interpretation of these acts, and more so from Hastings’ own self aware translation. Where as similiar photographers may have retained control over this presentation of extreme voyeurism, Deveney has given the power back to her subject by allowing him to intellectually frame his own experience. For each image, Hastings was invited to create a handwritten caption, filtering the viewer’s response to the photograph through a lens that was uniquely his own.
As a result, it is easy to be swept away into an understanding that is at once individual, but also shared by the elderly community as a whole. Where at first there seems to only be a pile of folded shirts, we now see through Hastings’ eyes that it is actually “…a little bit of comfort.” We are transported to the world of the advanced elderly where every small detail holds a comforting familiarity while at the same time being imbued with a telling sense of urgency. The unexpected improtance of these everyday tasks and objects is further enhanced by the flat snapshot-like quality and physically small scale of Deveney’s photographs. By telling us that we are about to see is important and then showing us in such a way that it is mundane, we are forced to search for a deeper meaning than that of the simple aesthetic.
In this shared project, Deveney and Hastings show us the world through the eyes of the elderly while simultaneously forcing us to step back and also view it through our own, admittedly critical, vantage point. We feel all at once a loving sameness with the subject while still harshly judging him qualitatively for reminding us of what we all really are: boring creatures of habit.
The speed of change and the constant desire for “the new” that drives modern culture frequently devalues not only the lives of the elderly, but the simple and startling beauty that can be found in the mundane world of each of us. By giving a strong voice to a margenlized group that we will all one day be a member of, Deveney has reminded us to look around and to look ahead. Doing our laundry for the thousandth time seems unimportant till we realize that one day, there will be know more dirty clothes. One day, we will not be.
Deveney seems to say to us all “Look at those drying socks! And that delicately hung shirt! Don’t you see: they shine!“
Throughout the 70’s and early 80’s, photographer Arno Rafael Minkkinen created a body of work (no pun intended) in which he explored the idea of the inherent naturalness of the human form. While this is not a revolutionary idea, it is Minkkinen’s execution that seperates him from other artists working with similiar concepts in mind. In each self portrait, Minkkinen isolates parts of his body in such a way as to make them seem foreign. Upon first viewing, the body in question frequently appears either severed, unrecognizeable as part of a human whole, or existing in the world seemingly through supernatural intervention. Minkkinen is quick to point out in his artist’s statement that none of the images have been manipulated through digital or mechanical means. Everything you see is as the camera saw it in the natural world.
By seperating the human body from it’s normal social connotations Minkkinen is able to, without undo emotional reference, make a precise (almost medical) argument for it’s naturalness. This turn of logic is quite unexpected in viewing the pieces. It is easy to at first assume that by removing the human form from it’s natural genetic place in the world that the viewer would become alienated from it. In reality, it is rather the opposite that occurs. By changing it context, the spectator is able to finally see that the normative way in which they have always viewed the body has been shaded by cultural contextualization. By instead showing us the whole for it’s parts, Minkkinen has made is possible for us to view the human form as what it truly is: magnificent and mundane.
….yet another example of me being slow on actualizing my ideas.
About two or so months ago, the four members of Gaycondo were perusing the aisles of our new local Ikea store. Being there is like a consumption explosion! So much stuff I don’t need… but it is SO cheap. It really brings out the consumer in me. Anyway, we were all secretly feeling a little guilty for being so materialistic, and discussion turned to the idea of finding ways to make the Ikea experience more creative and less consumptive. Several plans of action were verbalized, but my favorite idea (which, the narcissist that I am, was my idea) was one in which we would write a script for a soap opera that would be filmed “on set” using Ikea’s model homes.
“What a brilliant concept!”, I thought. We could sneak the camera in and film the highly choreographed and organized show in less than a day!
What original gorilla film making!
Unfortunately, I have a habit of coming up with great ideas and then apathetically not acting on them. Boo on me.
I have been beaten to the punch by Israeli fim maker Guy Ben-ner. He created an 18 minute sitcom, Stealing Beauty, starring his wife and two children. It was shot (without permission) entirely within Ikea stores thoughout the world.
Here is a short preview of the film:
I love all the random bystanders that wander into the shots.
Anyway, lesson learned….
Ben-Ner was recently profiled in New York Magazine because of his amazing idea. That could have been me. Next time I am out getting drinks with friends and spout a genious thought, I’m going to act on it.
Wow, yet another community art project website with a deceptively simple concept! In fact, it couldn’t be more simple. All participants have to do is:
remove everything from their pockets and/or purse
place contents on a scanner
place face on scanner
scan
The results are often obvious and frequently boring.
HOWEVER, sometimes the image that is created can be abstract and beautiful. Take for instance the first image of the three above. The composition is stunning, and as if by luck of the draw, the color composition of this scanner is quite elegent. To see about 5 million more, check out Face Your Pockets.
All sorts of shitty countries have taken a cue from Tyra and started their own Next Top Model shows. While some of the spin-offs seem to be fairly legitimate such as the UK, French, Chinese and (the Heidi Klum hosted) German version, other ones have me wondering how the hell they manage to sell the idea. I mean, do backward ass third world countries really have that much modeling work. Personally, I’d rather be ugly and fat in America than the top model of a place like Kazakhstan. Even in the American version, when a contestant wins you never see their ass again until the next season when they come on and try to convince us they’ve been living this fabulous, jet-setter lifestyle. Yeah right!
All in all there are now 37 versions of this fucking show! Perhaps it wouldn’t seem so crazy if I weren’t so goddamn sick of Tyra Banks and the American version of the show. I think the whole idea is completely tired. It probably doesn’t help than in five years they’ve had ten seasons. There’s no way in hell that there are 10 legitimate “top models” running around because of the show. Rumors are circulating that Tyra will leave the show in the not too distant future. Perhaps some fresh blood will reinvigorate Top Model and convince me to watch it again, but I’m not holding my breath. I think if Miss J Alexander were the new host I’d watch it maybe. Jay Manuel is too much of a yam (i.e., he’s fucking orange).
Here are a few of my favorites out of the international versions…
Brazil
Germany
Italy
Ghana (the first African version)
Hungary (according to Jon, all Hungarian women are smokin’ hot at 18, but by 25 they have turned into haggardly babushkas)
…and it appears to be the costuming for “Interview with the Vampire”.
For Gaycondo readers not in the know, the man to your right is none other than seminal designer Hedi Slimane. He first gained major recognition when he became the head creative director and designer at Cristian Dior. In 2000, he created Dior Homme, a new line for the house that was very heavily influenced by the world of rock music. He is best known for his slim silouettes, inky/waxed denim, long coats, high collars, and leather bombers.
I was fortunate enough to meet Mr. Slimane (true story) early in the Spring of 2007 here in Portland Oregon while he was shopping in my store. I was so star struck and disoriented while speaking with him, that it didn’t occur to me to inquire about why exactly he was in Portland (I know, I know. Portland is fucking awesome…. But we are not a city that is regularly visited by fashion world heavy hitters). Shouldn’t he be in Europe somewhere designing his 2008 collections or something?
As soon as I got home, I of course went into heavy internet stalking mode trying to discover his reasons for visiting my fare city. While I didn’t find anything out about a secret Portland runway show or anything, I did learn that Slimane had just that week been officially ousted from Dior!
It turns out that he had been seeking more creative freedom within Dior, and was hoping to design a woman’s line under his own signature (i.e. it would be called Hedi Slimane, not Dior). The head honchos at Dior were not pleased, and apparently thought that the “Slimane” name was not commercially valuable enough to invest all that extra money in.
RETARDS!
Enter Kris Van Assche, the douche bag (or maybe “Assche Hole”??) to your left. After kicking Slimane to the curb, the reigns of Dior were handed over to him and his creative vision. Bad choice Dior. We just recently got to see Van Assche’s first collection for Dior Homme (Fall 08), and let’s just say, it is looking a little more Anne Rice than New York rock and roll.
For your consideration, examine the following:
First off, Hedi Slimane:
Seriously Slimane, you fucking kick my ass.
Second, Kris Van Assche:
Seriously Van Assche, are you fucking kidding me? Are you going to drink my blood or what?
The first time I saw a Chunky Pam video I thought “holy crap, who is this hot chubster rapping on the internets!?” She was a viral phenom, and the songs are really catchy. The first two videos were produced as MTV promos (one for Christmas, one for Valentine’s Day). They have insanely high production values, including sexy male backup dancers and blinged out junk food. The third video, which appeared last summer, seems a lot more DIY. It’s called Dirty Jerzy, and all members of Gay Condo love it, especially Jon(who grew up there).
However, once I actually paid attention to what Chunky Pam was singing about, I was kind of offended. In “Merry XXXLMas” and “Pampered” she mostly raps about how much she loves to eat junk food. We so rarely see fat women sexualized in our culture, I like Chunky Pam just because she’s undeniably hot while being unabashedly fat. But, then, she also falls into the same old traps that most other media about fat peopledoes- she’s the butt of a joke about how much fat people love to eat. Dirty Jerzy is really just about New Jersey, though, and when I pointed out to Jon that Pam is eating a huge meal in a diner during the video he said “But that’s what everyone does in New Jersey!”
The strangest thing about Pam, though, is that she isn’t real. The actress that plays her is Ashlie Atkinson, a member of the Gotham Girls Roller Derby. She’s been on Rescue Me, had a pilot on Showtime, and appeared in a fat suit (!!) in an Off-Broadway play called Fat Pig. In an interview in AmaZe Magazine she talks about only wanting to play positive fat roles, so I guess she feels ok about Chunky Pam’s love of milkshakes.
The other two people behind Chunky Pam are Geremy Jasper, the slim, male lead singer of The Fever,a mediocre New York indie-rock band and Meredith DiMenna, lead singer of Saint Bernadette. Meredith is the voice behind Pam and Geremy wrote the lyrics. Knowing a skinny man and an average sized woman are the reality behind Pam, it definitely makes me love her less. America seriously needs more fat babes. Only a jerky bro could say Pam isn’t hot. Even if you’re not into fat, she’s still one very attractive lady.
Too bad the most famous fat babe of the past year was actually a joke created by thin people.
All of us here at Gaycondo are officially obsessed with this new British fad that just crossed the Atlantic called Sleeve facing. Watch the video to learn more:
…conjures the creative and destructive sides of nature.
I was first exposed to multi-medium artist Kiki Smith when I saw one of her larger than life animal etchings at The Portland Art Museum a few months ago. I found her over all aesthetic striking. Smith’s female forms are frequently described as challenging the normilization of the sexualized female form. Though Smith’s characters can rarely be desribed as ugly (*ahem*… excluding of course our dear friend the wolf girl), their nude forms never speak to a sexual reading.
On a recent trip to San Francisco, I was lucky enough to get to catch one of her sculptures at Moma (it is image number two in the middle row). The crouching woman is attached to the vertical wall, creating a disorienting viewpoint. This particular piece makes a heavy statement about the way in which women are normally portrayed in sculptures. Smith is literally turning the viewers perception of the female body upside down.
Here is a kind of creepy video of Kiki Smith talking about her work:
FUN FACT: L-Word fans might recognize Smith’s etching of a deer pictured above in the third row. On the show, Bette owns it, but is forced to sell it when she is unemployed!
…separated at birth??? The other day I was at the gym, and per my usual routine I picked up an issue of US Weekly to peruse while on the eliptical. I was pleasantly surprised to find an article in which Hillary Clinton chooses her worst outfits of all time, and let me tell you there are some doozies. Now that she’s running for President she has a stylist and always looks tough, but likeable. Back in the day though she could never get it right. I guess the tabloid demographic is fair game as much as anything else, and they seem like they would be more likely to think of her as a mega-bitch for some reason. It may be catering to the lowest common denominator, but I find it refreshing that she can laugh at herself. Here’s a few of my faves…
As some of you may know, I am a total fag. As a result, I’m into some pretty classically faggy things. One of the most prominent of these activities has got to be collecting vintage brooches (side note: I bet you thought that was spelled with an “a” after the “o”. WRONG!), which is a hobby I picked up a couple of years ago.
I’m in no way an expert on the topic, I just buy stuff I like when I see it. My favorite category of brooches is for sure cameos. So the other day I was out fantasy shopping at a couple of fancy-town vintage shops,and a piece similiar to the one on the left caught my eye.
“How interesting!” I thought. “A photo cameo framed in silk! I must learn more!”
So, I approached the sales girl and asked about it.
“Oh, that is a great piece of mourning jewelry.” She said. “The child’s hair is still in such great condition. Very rare!”
Mourning jewelry? CHILD’S HAIR??? It turns out that Victorian people had a serious boner for being sad. This trend was started when Queen Victoria’s husband passed away and she went into full on serious mourning for 40 YEARS! She even dressed her servants in head to toe black.
So apparently they didn’t have E! or Bravo back then ( losers ), because the only fashion icon regular Victorian ladies had to mimic was a stodgy senior citizen Queen. Thus, a creepy trend is born. The whole country went goth for her and adopted mourning as a permenant form of fashion expression.
Lucky for the ladies of the time, they were not expected to ACTUALLY mimic Queen Victoria and mourn their husbands for the rest of their days .
No, they were only expected to wear head to toe black and a veil covering their faces for one year, followed by 1-2 more without the veil.
Geez. I’m all for listening to The Cure, but this is getting out of hand!
In addition to donning full black garb, those in mourning were allowed to ornament themselves with morbid remembrances of the deceased. These pieces of jewelry were made almost exclusively of black stones, gold, photo’s of the deceased, and braided human hair from their bodies! I guess you were lucky if the person you were mourning had blonde hair, because then you could jazz up the whole black-on-black thing!
ANYWAY…..
I didn’t want you to leave Gaycondo totally bummed out, so here is this to watch:
Freaking News is a website that features ridiculous photoshop contests inspired by the news. They have about five million more pictures to look at, many of which are a lot creepier than these.
Photographer Philip-Lorca diCorcia is most famous for his street portrait photography which transcends the typical limitations of the medium. In much of his early work, he would approach strangers on the street and offer them small amounts of money to pose for him as “strangers on the street”. This postmodern approach added a new dimensional layer in interpretting his work, but admittedly limited the “real” emotional response he could capture in his subjects. No matter what he did, they would always be posing for the camera.
As a way to counteract this artistic wall, diCorcia developed a simple, yet ingenious new method. He set up a remotely controlled strobe light in times square and photographed his unknowing subjects from a considerable distance. These strangers, cast in the otherworldly spotlight of diCorcia, seem to radiate a sort of religious importance. As if picked out from the crowd by the hand of God, it is impossible to not imbibe them with supernatural importance.
This of course raises new questions about the artist’s role in molding his subjects. Beyond the shaping of the model’s representation, diCorcia’s real message seems to be in the sculpting of himself in the the viewer’s eye’s as an omnicient, god-like creator. The stimulation in the photograph lies less in the model’s chosen expression of feeling for the camera, and more in diCorcia’s ability to grant those feelings importance.
So, in a way, these images are less about the people in them, and more about about the “creator” who had the vision to make them so beautiful. But at it’s root, isn’t that what all art is about?
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