Writing, anyone?

I went to the MoMA today, and spent a lot of time in the Sweet Violence exhibit. It amazed me. This piece, -tentatively- titled Who Calls You Beautiful?, came from it.

You are wearing Gucci sunglasses that draw attention to your perfectly sculpted cheekbones, and I am wondering, “Who calls you beautiful?”
You are pictured on a black couch, sexy, smoking a cigarette.
You are posing for a camera, naked, splashing water onto your face.
You are bathing, radiant, under magazine-heading text that reads Risveglia la tua pelle!
You are brushing onto your cheeks rouge that conceals scars.
You are painting the image of your child, perfect and happy, smiling in a bubbly tub.
You are showing your pregnant belly in front of a window filled with light.
You are whipping egg whites, your cherry-patterned apron tied tightly around your waist as you stir in a cup of sugar.
You are wearing Gucci sunglasses that draw attention to your perfectly sculpted cheekbones, and I am wondering, “Who calls you beautiful?”

The Good Ol' Days

I tend not to be nostalgic. But, when Nicki Minaj was "exorcised" at the Grammy's last night, it was hard for me not to yearn for better days. Rather than gluing my eyes to her levitating body, I took a stroll into the history of Grammy's of yore to find respite.

This is terrifying! And not in a fun way.
Image c/o googleimages

The first Grammy awards, originally called the Gramophone awards, were held on May 4, 1959. Domenico Modugno took both Best Record and Best Song of the year. Perhaps more familiar to our twenty-first-centurion ears, the Chipmunks also brought home an award, as did jazz superstar Ella Fitzgerald. Music Man won Best Original Cast Album. And, if only out of pity, the red-nosed, half-lit picture of Frank Sinatra on the face of Frank Sinatra Sings Only for the Lonely won Best Album Cover Photography.

Sad Sinatra is STILL more aesthetically
pleasing than Nicki Minaj
Photo c/o googleimages

Even with its tinges of pathetic, I'd take the portrait of sad Sinatra over a performance of maniacal Minaj any day. It may be easy to view the past with rose-colored glasses, but the ceremony back then really did seem to be easier on the ears, and on the eyes. After all, at the Grammy's of 1959, there were no crimped, blue-haired wigs. No barely-there lace kimonos. No black, birdcage veiled, golden-sceptered, half-black-haired queen. No levitating, pink-lipsticked, little-red-riding-hood-with-the-pope-for-a-date....alright, I give up, this is ridiculous!

Domenico Modugno at the Grammy's,
back when they were classy.
Photo c/o googleimages

In celebration of the Grammy's 1959-style, I've been jamming to Nel Blu Dipinto di Blu (Volare). It's a simple song about the highs of love, accompanied by the visual high of Modugno's adorable 'stache. I can't get enough of it. Compared to the 2012 Grammy's hulabaloo, the Grammy's of yesteryear offer simple, and welcome, perfection.

Love, Loss, and What I Wore

Love, Loss, and What I Wore puts love and loss at center stage. The show features four women who go through multiple marriages, come out, lose their mothers at young ages, get raped, and more: all of life's worst bestowed on this small sample population. Veanne Cox and Lillias White deliver convincing performance, but the show's handicap is in the script, not the acting. While the actresses harp on their crises, the audience craves meaning in stability.

Perhaps the "what I wore" aspect of the show is meant to deliver the consistency so lacking in the leads' lives. However, the joyful, creative element of style is reduced to superficiality as the women put so much emphasis on that wrap dress or those suede boots. After sitting through one too many monologues about a purse, it behooves the audience to ask why the people in their lives then aren't given as much value as the material things these women adore. We yearn to see their fashion-centered romance and devotion play out in their human relationships, we hope that the play will conclude on this happy high, but such affection never leaves Filene's Basement.

Surely, the goal of Love, Loss, and What I Wore is not to expose a bunch of superficial ladies who have their priorities screwed up. It probably hopes to empower women. However, LLWW forgets that empowerment is a human phenomenon, one that requires a lot more than the occasional mention of fashion.

Surprises

2012 is upon us, and I have some pretty big items on this year's bucket list. Graduate College. Get TEFL certification. Travel like mad. Things of that nature.

Oh, and, of course, write until my pens run out of ink. Buy more pens. Continue writing.

On New Year's Eve, Neil Gaiman posted on his blog some advice that I found inspiring. He talks about creativity, the power of love, intentional kindness.

I got into reading Gaiman's wishes from new years past (which, by the way, are now old years, ha!). And, harking all the way back to 2001, I saw in front of me a goal that was already at the top of my bucket list:

"May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself."

Surprising myself. A big goal for 2012.

I hope that you, too, surprise yourself in 2012. I hope you laugh with abandon. I hope you see beautiful things. I hope you love richly, in spite of yourself, when it isn't deserved, when it's inconvenient for you.

Here's to our best year yet.

Startin' Off the New Year Right

I thought I might start off the year with some writing. Really, could there be a better way to welcome 2012??
This is called The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living; it's a meditation on Damien Hirst's exhibit by the same name. I got to see the exhibit at the Met and it was awesome.

Image c/o googleimages

Silence. Blood rushes to the ears and brain and quickly flows to the nose, chin, fingertips. Reality vanishes. There is pulsing, a hard pounding from within and, simultaneously, from the skies. Pounding rises from the ground. The heavy air throbs. Yellow taxi cabs and eclectic lighting, the smell of spicy, exotic foods and the hum of crowds are all drowned out of existence. Bright blue thickness surrounds, submerges, engulfs; it is vibrant like the neon advertisements of Times Square, overwhelming like the horns of taxi cab cars, tangy like the flavor of Little India’s ginger, though it is also acidic, stinging, viscous.

Removed from the busyness, a stranger stands in the still water of formaldehyde. He is silent, motionless. Open-mouthed and obscure under a grey coat of collagen, he is suspended. He does not breathe. He makes no sound. His eyes do not blink. Triangular razors jet out of his body; he is built to glide, to puncture. He is water-resistant and oblong and pointed. He does not swim. His jaws are large with sharpened teeth and opened nose holes. He does not sense. He acknowledges no existence. His sandpaper skin has turned to softness. His eyes are blinded and his blades are dulled. He is paralyzed by his vivid ocean, but he remains indifferent. He is encased. He is defeated. There is no threat.

Reality returns.

Best of 2011

As every radio station in American features Best of 2011 countdowns, I've decided to make a countdown of my very own. Here's my list of the best songs of this year. A disclaimer: they haven't all been released in 2011, but they've all helped define 2011 for me.

Without further ado,

The 15 Best Songs of 2011 (according to me)
15. Resta Cu' mme- Pino Daniele
14.By Your Side- Tenth Avenue North
13. Talking in Code- Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos
12. Hello- Martin Solveig & Dragonette
11. Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)- Lady Gaga
10. If I Die Young- The Band Perry
9. Farther Along- Anthony Reese
8. Fidelity- Regina Spektor
7. You and I- Ingrid Michaelson
6. Mean- Taylor Swift
5. Rocks and Daggers- Noah and the Whale
4. Somewhere With You- Tyler Ward
3. 5 Years Time- Noah and the Whale
2. El Camino- Amos Lee
and....
1. Umirem 100 Punto Dnevno- Perpetuum Jazzile


Auld Lang Syne by Dougie Maclean is a runner-up. I chose not to include it because I haven't been obsessed with that all year, just recently.
Perpetuum Jazzile took number one by a long shot.

Happy New Year to you!

My Week

My Week by ginasil featuring skinny leg jeans