A piece from Yoshitaka Amano‘s book “Hiten” serves as a reminder of seasons, while comrade Nadya and I are being scorched by heinous 80 degree November heat here in Angel City. Ah yes, I vaguely recall something about death and rebirth, changes in temperature, nature’s mystery and its cycles changing gears – that sort of thing. It’s fuzzy, like a long-lost dream, really. Until weather takes mercy on us I’ll indulge in all things that remind me of what Autumn and Winter are meant to feel like. At times like these I really miss Moscow. Here’s hoping that today few of us are frying like gutted fish on yellow California pavement and for a swift arrival of rain, too.
The great art of films does not consist in descriptive movement of face and body, but in the movements of thought and soul transmitted in a kind of intense isolation. ~ Louise Brooks
On this day 101 years ago, Louise Brooks, patron saint of unrepentant flappers, was born. By all accounts, she was a fiercely intelligent and complicated woman who would not suffer fools in an industry that consists of nearly nothing but. She made only 25 films before being blacklisted walking away from Hollywood at the height of her career, and remains one of the most iconic, (in)famous starlets of all time.
Although she is perhaps better known for the trademark black bob that launched a thousand Red Hot Mamas, Brooks also happens to be one of the most remarkable actresses, um, well… EVER. Onscreen, the one-time Ziegfeld dancer carries herself with effortless grace. Brooks understood that great acting was more about reacting than anything else. In stark contrast to many of her mawkish, mugging co-stars, she seems more comfortable, more real, somehow.
The Einstein Robot isn’t new – a creation of Hanson Robotics, he was revealed at the 2006 NextFest, has been on the cover of Wired, etc. He’s downright famous. While some might find this little guy creepy, I happen to love him. But not without a bittersweetness – it makes me sincerely sad to know that in Einstein’s time we didn’t have the technology to preserve his head [+ brain] and stick it on a robot. And maybe make him fly, while we’re at it. He’d be powerful, zoom around, invent, solve. It just isn’t fair!
Oh, irony.
Click below for a video of Einstein-bot in action.
Last week, there was some great discussion here at Coilhouse about spotting interesting people based on personal style cues. No one trusts a haircut anymore, so everyone’s searching for something more subtle and specific; as Mike Jennings writes in the comments, “for example, anyone wearing jewelry featuring taxidermy supplies is probably going to be someone with whom I can have more than a passing conversation.” In the corporate world, ties can say a lot. If I see a guy or gal wearing a tie like the Cyberoptix one above at a business meeting, I know what’s up. Come to think of it, these days strict power suits can say a lot.
More to the point, I’ve found that one quick, reliable way to figure out if someone is on the same wavelength is to figure out if they’re into squids, octopi and tentacles. I’ve yet to figure out why or how this litmus test works so well, but it does. If someone’s eyes light up when the word “tentacles” is mentioned, chances are they’re my kinda person. Does anyone else find that this is the case? If so, why this, out of all possible things? Maybe it’s because tentacles quickly recall so many different facets of What Made Us Weird; Lovecraft, Japanese culture, a love for all things “alien-looking.” And it’s not like I obsess over tentacles on a daily basis, they’re not my favorite thing in the world, but somehow they’re just so handy in identifying people, like some sort of secret code word we all agreed on in our sleep. Or is it just me? What is about those things?
* Yes, I know that octopi don’t really have tentacles but “arms.”
Rhythmic gymnastics, as I’ve suddenly come realize, are possibly the ultimate hotness in sports, though I’d prefer it without the ribbon. But that’s not all! I see club hit potential – just look at those dramatic flowing gestures, practically reaching for a smoky club ceiling, interspersed with industrial-ish angular sharp movements. I’d like to have seen Ukrainian gymnast Natalia break these moves out at Perversion back when it was still bumpin’ – she could have been an instant superstar.
Friends! This is a good time to warn you that what you find on Coilhouse may not always be safe for work. We’ll try to keep the racy content after a jump and warn you about NSWF links, but we can’t promise that we’ll never blow our load right on the front page of the blog. Case in point: Franz von Bayros’ timeless masterpiece, “Ex-libris of Sweet Snail.” How can anyone resist putting an image like this right a the top? How? You tell me.
Franz von Bayros was an artist from the late 19th/early 20th century who became known for his playfully perverse erotic imagery. Originally from Zagreb, Croatia, van Byros lived from 1866 until 1924. Van Bayros was constantly on the move: oft-expelled from European cities due to the sexual content of his work, he was forced to relocate again and again and start from scratch. During his lifetime he produced over 2000 works, and his most famous collection was a series of erotic images called Erzahlungen vom Toilettentisch or Tales from the Dressing Table.
What makes Bayros’ images so delectable is precisely what’s missing from average porn: a sense of everyone having a good time. In Bayros’ images, there’s a real atmosphere of pleasure, and I find myself feeling light and kind of giddy after looking his gorgeously-crafted scenes, thinking, “wow, that looks like fun! good for them.” See for yourself after the jump.
Many thanks to my friend Mildred Von for turning me onto Bayros’ work, and for the title to this blog post. You may have also noticed that Mil occasionally pops up on Coilhouse to make a couple of posts of her own.
“When I consider what Japanese culture is like, the answer is that it all is subculture. Therefore, art is unnecessary.” – Takashi Murakami
It’s easy to discount Takashi Murakami’s work as pure design – the explosion in his popularity has led him to work with rapper Kanye West and the Luis Vuitton label, both pinnacles of pop-consumer culture in their right. However, even five minutes within the (c)Murakami exhibit at MOCA will put an end any such assumption.
Seeing this art full-scale in all its Technicolor glory, hundreds of manga eyes, dripping fangs and rainbow vomit exploding from fields of flat color made me actually wish I were under the influence of psychedelics, yet grateful I was not. Video projections, massive acrylic sculptures and canvases with deranged cartoon bears ballooning into grotesque monsters, surrounded by grinning daises that look almost exactly like digital prints because of precision with which they’re painted. This is undoubtedly the work of an artist, despite the fact that Takashi Murakami rarely paints these works himself. While he remains in charge of all his art and products, the actual work is done by other artists in his Warhol-style factory.
KariwanZ is the name of a rubberwear designer couple from Japan. They create intensely elaborate outfits for themselves with themes ranging from Rococo to the space age to marine life, employing layers of ruffles that look like cake decorations, detailed appliqués and inflatable portions that transform their limbs into claws or unheard-of appendages.
The outfits are not for sale, and seem to be made purely for the couple’s roleplaying and creative pleasure. No matter what style the outfits, they all have one theme in common: the lady, named Karin, is always the mistress dog-keeper, and the man, named Wanco (“doggie” in Japanese), always appears as her pet.
There’s a lot of exuberance here; the smiling eyes peeking out of the masks, the comic book format in which they tell the story of why they began to make clothing, their willingness to share the steps of their creative process (they even publish the formula for their latex glue, a jealously-guarded trade secret of every latex designer in the West), all these things point to a genuine love for latex and their desire to share their creative fetish bond with the world. They also sell cute latex teddy bears, all of which are currently sold out.
On their “about us” page, they write “We can create costumes we want to wear, and can create anything that we want to have!” Good for them!
Some of us occasionally think we should rid ourselves of anything non-black or grey and wear only things resembling a uniform. It happens – I’ve had this conversation with friends, even – usually they’re just fashionable people tired of thinking about getting dressed.
We fantasize about the ease with which we’d face each day, choosing only between a pant suit and a skirt suit with plain heels or boots, abandoning all other options in favor of utilitarian ease. Reading about Cayce Pollard’s minimal wardrobe in Gibson’s Pattern Recognition cemented this secret desire some years ago. Though here I shamefully failed to comply with the Cayce Pollard Unit code and forgot to remove the annoying red tag on the outside of my coat.
The possibility of such simplicity is endlessly appealing, but, every time I feel resolved and seriously consider executing this, I find socks and things that match these socks. Then I remember why dressing up is fun and how I actually love the way 4+ inch platform sneakers make me look. Unfortunate, perhaps, but true.
