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February 3, 2011

"Man Walking Down the Side of a Building"

A rarely-staged early work (1970) by Trisha Brown, it hadn't been seen in the United States since its New York debut nearly 40 years ago until the performance above, on July 5, 2008, sponsored by the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

February 3, 2011 at 04:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Pull-on Snow Shorts — "Wear your sled"


What took so long?

Gives "drive by the seat of your pants" a whole new meaning.

From the website:


Pull these shorts over a snowsuit and schuss downhill.

Much more fun than pulling a sled — sit down and go!

Foam padded PVC seat is fused to the pull-on shorts.

Steer by shifting your weight.

Six "runners" steer like a sled.

Flexible to -20°F.




[via CSYCB]

February 3, 2011 at 03:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Presidents/Prime Ministers 1981–2009


[via LikeCOOL]

February 3, 2011 at 02:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Cement Pearls


From the website:


These cement earrings are modeled on classical pearl studs.

Each sphere is cast by hand and set onto a sterling silver post.

With wear, the color of the earrings will deepen as they are exposed to the air and the oils from your skin.




[via CSYCB]

February 3, 2011 at 01:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Possibly true tales of lives richly lived


Edward Rothstein's January 21, 2011 New York Times review of "The Diary: Three Centuries of Private Lives," a show up at the Morgan Library in New York City through May 22 of this year, was replete with quotable morsels, some of which I've excerpted below.

A slide show of some of the diaries in the exhibit is here; a few appear above and below (from the top down: the young Charlotte Brontë; Thoreau; Sophia Peabody Hawthorne, wife of Nathaniel Hawthorne).


“I have tried to keep diaries before,” John Steinbeck writes in a giant ledger book filled with his methodical script, “but they didn’t work out because of the necessity to be honest.”

This particular journal, on display at the Morgan Library & Museum in a compelling exhibition that opened on Friday, “The Diary: Three Centuries of Private Lives,” has such a modest goal — chronicling Steinbeck’s work on “The Grapes of Wrath” — that it probably does not bend the truth too much. But spend some time with these diaries, intelligently culled from the Morgan’s archives by Christine Nelson, the museum’s curator of literary and historical manuscripts, and you see how fervently the keepers of journals labor to shape accounts of themselves.


These diaries span more than the three centuries of the exhibition’s subtitle. They are the chronicles of the famous (Nathaniel Hawthorne) and obscure (Adèle Hugo, Victor’s daughter); royalty (Queen Victoria recounting her journeys in the Highlands) and pirates (Bartholomew Sharpe, who preyed on the Spanish in the 17th century); and child writers (J. P. Morgan as a 9-year-old) and writers for children (E. B. White, who used his own diaries as a sometime source). Bob Dylan’s 1973-74 travel journal of his tour with the Band is opened to his sketch of a view from a Memphis hotel room; Einstein’s 1922 travel diary is open to calculations related to electromagnetism and general relativity, written on the page’s flip side.

The pioneers of the well-shaped self are represented by the first printed edition of St. Augustine’s “Confessions,” from the 15th century, and by the first printed edition of that book’s 18th-century secular heir, Rousseau’s “Confessions” — narratives that are meticulously shaped to make certain points and stake certain claims. More valuable for straightforward reportage is Samuel Pepys’ 17th-century account of the Great Fire of London, seen here in the corrected proofs of the first edition of his diaries, along with a single sheet showing the shorthand that he used to encode 3,000 handwritten pages; they were deciphered only after more than a century.

But how are personal secrets, shames and private sensations treated in these works? Some incorporate secret writing: hieroglyphs in one, mirror writing in another. Adèle Hugo expresses her passionate love using scrambled words in a diary that inspired Truffaut’s film “The Story of Adèle H.,” which will be screened at the Morgan in April in conjunction with this exhibition.


But other diarists edit their supposedly spontaneous texts, excising undesirable allusions, cultivating a desired image. A typescript of a volume of Anaïs Nin’s diary, which the author describes as the “uncut version,” is far from it, Ms. Nelson points out: “Nin — like all diarists —crafted the story of her life, choosing the identity she wished to present to her friends, the public and herself.” And a journal that was jointly kept by Hawthorne and his wife, Sophia, is shown with passages blacked out by Sophia to keep them from posterity’s glance.

Nevertheless, many diaries on display are almost painful in their confrontations with the recalcitrant reality of their authors’ lives and characters. An enormous volume by the British slaveholder John Newton recounts his spiritual conversion (which led to the composition of the hymn “Amazing Grace” and to his later opposition to slavery), but also his “repeated backslidings”: “I have been reading what I have recorded of my experience in the last year — a strange vanity. I find myself condemnd in every page.”

Unexpectedly touching is a hastily written series of entries by Tennessee Williams from the 1950s; he was being hailed for his genius even as he languished in loneliness and anxiety, dependent on drugs and alcohol.

“A black day to begin a blue journal,” he writes at the opening of the notebook on display; then an evening’s sexual encounters suggest that a “benign Providence” had “suddenly taken cognizance and pity of my long misery this summer and given me this night as a token of forgiveness.”

February 3, 2011 at 12:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

What is it?


Answer here this time tomorrow.

Hint: solid maple.

Another: hand made.

February 3, 2011 at 11:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Google Sightseeing* — "Why bother seeing the world for real?"


Won't be all that long till the question up top in the headline is inoperable.

If you can't tell what's real from what's not, then everything is real.

Or not, as the case may be.

But I kant be bothered with digressions like this when you just want the link so you can abandon all moorings.

Wrote Rob Walker in his "Consumed" column in the December 30, 2010 New York Times Magazine, "Google Sightseeing... presents Google-image-illustrated travelogues of, say, the restoration of a Dresden church or murals in the Mission District of San Francisco; roundups of satellite images of notable craters; or collections of funny signs, aberrant behavior and 'weirdness.'"

Here you go.

Free, the way we like it.

Fair warning: there goes the day (yet again).

*"Not sponsored by or affiliated with Google."

[The Times is getting excellent value from Rob Walker so I suggest a 50% increase in his remuneration, retroactive to the first of this year. No, I am not his agent. I have never met Rob Walker. I have never seen Rob Walker and I wouldn't know him from Troy Polamalu if I saw them both walking down the street. I have never spoken to Rob Walker. I have corresponded with him via email for years. And that's all I have to say about that. {joe, ever hear that Jamaican saying, "Enough is as good as a feast?" nuf sed.}]

February 3, 2011 at 10:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Felt Slippers


Made in Finland from one piece


of molded grey wool felt.




[via Svpply]

February 3, 2011 at 09:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack

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