shitty-chic

This is from my new favorite blog, Talking Barnacles. It makes me feel better about my likely situation post-graduation. shitty chic, baby.

...Yesterday my bank account was down to one hundred and twenty dollars, but today it shot up to one thousand because of my tax returns. On top of that, with the freelance work I did this month and all the publicity of T.B., I have another month’s rent and living expense covered so I am basically in the clear for the next two months, which is great. I can eat something besides tea and two slices now… But in a way, looking back at it all, I kind of liked the hunger pains and the lack of energy that I felt everyday. I was kind of miserable then, but at the same time, it made me feel like I was at war with the world. And when you are at war, you don’t need anything – because you have a mission and a point in life – which, basically, is what anyone ever really wants.

Now I am sitting in a café writing this after I found out I had money in my bank, which for me being in a café by yourself and spending five bucks on a drink instead of on food to keep you going is a luxury… and I am ashamed because when you are at war, you don’t drink soy tea lattes.

But the struggle against earthquakes, radiation, unemployment, my parents, and society is basically over and I can’t deny it; and I feel like a vet at the end of a bad war movie going back home and not being able to adjust… or maybe it’s the opposite and I am adjusting too well, growing fat and dull and dim-witted when I just want to keep fighting dead enemies, whom now I view fondly like old friends.

War (not necessarily the one with guns) may be miserable, but at least, for once in a person’s life, it makes them feel like they had actually lived and, just as important, had something to say... Bob Dylan’s best work no doubt was when he was fighting the man, and when he had finally stopped, his work became shit. And that’s my biggest fear…

TINKER POT

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ナイスの森

Funky Forest: The First Contact

A: show me your dance moves.
B: show me your feelings!
A: what feelings?

Free Ai Weiwei

Who's Afraid of Ai Weiwei?

Between the Folds

I watched this today in my fibers class with eyed peeled, mouth open (granted, I saw a life-size origami Hachiko at the cherry blossom festival this weekend and thought that was pretty neat). I thought it was cool that many of the artists featured had or had had careers in the science and mathematical fields. Anyway, it's available on Netflix instant play.

One of the people in the video (I forget his name but he apparently started university at age 12, got his phd at 20, and was the youngest professor at MIT) talked about how the act of folding paper changes the memory of that piece of paper. I really like this idea, of a fiber's memory, which is something I started thinking about when I was researching shibori dyeing for my last project. I used a book called Memory on Cloth: Shibori Now by Yoshiko Iwamoto Wada as my primary source and found this quote to be especially useful:

Shibori recognizes and explores the pliancy of the textile and its potential for creating a multitude of shaped-and-resisted designs. When the cloth is returned to its 2D form, the design that emerges is the result of the 3D shape, the type of resist, and the amount of pressure extended by the thread or clamp that secured the shape during the cloth's exposure to the dye. The cloth sensitively records both the shape and the pressure; it is the "memory" of the shape that remains imprinted in the cloth. This is the essence of shibori.

Streets Dept

Apartment Complex vol. 4

Thanks to no. 18 for the tip on Philly photo/fashion/street art blog, Streets Dept. All of his featured Philly apartment photos and Becky's talk of dream houses, makin me itch for a nicer place than 733... one day.

Patrick Tsai

My Little Dead Dick

Modern Times

I really liked Patrick Tsai after reading his 7-day diary that he kept during the earthquake and subsequent events in Japan. His writing led me to his past photo projects, most notably My Little Dead Dick. It's not anything new in terms of subject or style. He's 29, he just got laid off, and in a recent post on Talking Barnacles he wrote about how his parents have no idea who he is but seem to disapprove of everything they do know about him. well, this sounds like what I may have ahead of me.