In a new series titled Machine Punk, artist Laurie Lipton (previously on Coilhouse, with a cameo appearance by Caryn Drexl) skillfully renders a series of cumbersome, beautifully sprawling machines whose tangled wires and polluted textures conspire to create a sense of unease. Lipton states that the series was inspired by steampunk, but notes that the machines in her images run on “madness and electricity” rather than steam. “I was vacuuming one day, and noticed the amount of plugs and cables on the floor… a veritable wasp’s nest of wires and sockets connecting a hoard of gadgets and doo-dads intertwining around the house and my life. I was trapped like a fly in an electrical web. What had happened? Were these things making my life easier or more complex?” The resulting series features contraptions ranging from rickety flying machines to torturous exercise equipment, and critiques – among other things – CCTV surveillance, a broken recycling system, and the empty thought-calories of spending too much time online. Most of the images in this series are best enjoyed at a larger size, so click here to see them all.
Machine Punk will be on display at La Luz de Jesus Gallery in Los Angeles from November 5 – 28th in Gallery 1, side-by-side with artist and Coilhouse collaborator Jessica Joslin in Gallery 2. Also, if you’re a fan of Laurie Lipton’s ghostly older work, it’s worth mentioning that she recently collaborated with clothing company AllSaints to produce a line of t-shirts featuring the wraiths and skeletons of her previous work, and that some of these shirts are now on sale. [Many thanks to the awesome Coilhouse reader who sent this in – I received your submission a while ago, but can’t find it now to credit you! Was it via Twitter?]
Very sad news out of Japan yesterday as it was confirmed that visionary director Satoshi Kon had indeed passed away, after a long battle with pancreatic cancer. He was 46.
Kon began his career as a manga artist, working with Akira creator Katsuhiro Otomo. He wrote a section of Otomo’s anthology film Memories entitled “Magnetic Rose” and in 1997 he made his directorial debut with Perfect Blue. This was followed by Millennium Actress in 2001, Tokyo Godfathers in 2003, the television show Paranoia Agent in 2004 (featured previously on Coilhouse), and finally Paprika in 2006. At the time of his death he was working on the film The Dream Machine which may be released posthumously.
Just a courtesy notice for those of you still seeking out Coilhouse Issue 05, which sold out on our site a while ago: you can still find Issue 05 in stores nationwide. Click here for a list of all the stores that carry Issue 05. We suggest calling the stores before you go over there, just to confirm that the issues are still in stock. Unfortunately, we don’t have an updated database of store inventory, just the list of stores we know received copies of Issue 05. If there are any other stores you think should carry Coilhouse, please let us know. We love hearing about places like Criminal Records in Atlanta and Powell’s in Portland… perfect candidates for Coilhouse! If you’re a bookshop interested in selling Issue 05, you can go through your wholesaler to get it. If you deal with someone like Ubiquity, Ingram, RCS or Last Gasp, they will hook you up. Thank you again for your support!
There are also two places where you can buy it online. For those of you living in Australia or New Zealand, you can still mail-order Issue 05 from our esteemed friends at Wildilocks. In the States, we recently learned that Last Gasp Books is offering Issue 05 for sale online. Atomic Books also had it, but it’s now sold out. It’s costs $12.99 at Last Gasp (as opposed to $15, which is how much it cost on our site), and it’s less expensive there because the copies Last Gasp has are unsigned and don’t contain the exclusive Dorian Grey art postcards which were included with the version of Issue 05 you could get directly from us. We hope to have something special for those who order directly from us for every issue.
If there are any other shops you know of that carry Issue 05, let us know! Thank you again for your support.
A frantic time-lapse of artist Meer One creating images for his mono-distortion series Sketches of Babylon. A set of 33 individual paintings sharing a common style, Sketches of Babylon depicts the rising, skeletal spires of a totalitarian society on an alien world, rendered in fiery oranges and yellows. They make me think of 60s-era science fiction paperback covers. Baurmann Gallery is going to begin selling them today at 1pm PST for $500.00 apiece. If you’re interested and have the cash you can email them.
Close on the heels of the announcement that filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki may be preparing a sequel to his 1992 animated film Porco Rosso, Roger Ebert posts some well-deserved, effusive praise of Miyazaki and his first masterpiece, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind:
Much of anime in the past 20 years has concentrated on a utopian future, filled with technological wizardry and innovation, which is abundant in Japanese culture. But Miyazaki tends to look back instead of looking forward, inward instead of outward, looking at treasures of futures past that might have been. Like most of his films, his timeline here isn’t technological, but pastoral, with people relying more on each other and the Earth. He favors gorgeous green panoramas usually near blue bodies of water. He is in love with flight with his heroes soaring through the sky, representing our dreams of breaking through our limitations. We sense his hope in women more than men, believing them to be the key to humanity’s progress as opposed to man’s history of violence. These creeds and themes are held dearly and instinctively by the young and hopeful, and its Miyazaki’s ability to convey these naturalistic ideas through his visual imagination, which makes him unique.
Only Pixar has been able to rival Miyazaki’s creative energies in forming entirely new sights, sounds, and stories with each subsequent film. But Pixar is a collection of talent (all of whom pretty much worship him), while Miyazaki is a singular force. While even the greatest of directors have to rely on cast and crew to carry out their visions, Miyazaki pretty much IS the film. He might be the closest thing to the idea of an “auteur” which filmdom has.
Ebert has pointed his readership in the direction of Google Video to watch Nausicaa for free –and apparently guilt free– online. Hooray!
This week’s edition of BTC goes out to Comrade Lev. She’s currently packing up and preparing to roll out to Burning Man 2010 with the Syzygryd crew. I have no doubt whatsoever she’ll hear this classic house anthem by Opus III (as well as its Orbital offspring) out on the playa at some point. Wish I was going with you, hon. Bust some of those signature swirly stompy hottie-in-black moves for me, won’t ya? Unitard optional.
Jack Horkheimer, beloved TV personality and executive director of the Miami Space Transit Planetarium, has died, age 72. Countless legions of us grew up watching the gruff-voiced, wide-eyed astronomer hosting Star Gazer and Star Hustler on public television. Week after week, decade after decade, he’d walk in front of that green screen and excitedly tell us what we could expect to see in the evening sky. His enthusiasm was deeply infectious. He taught us all sorts of things about the universe, and he made us smile.
Farewell, farewell fellow star gazer. We’ll keep looking up.
Howard Phillips Lovecraft. Born on this baleful day back in 1890. Portrait by Bruce Timm
“There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the stories and visions of their youth; for when as children we listen and dream, we think but half-formed thoughts, and when as men we try to remember, we are dulled and prosaic with the poison of life. But some of us awake in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of fountains that sing in the sun, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick forests; and then we know that we have looked back through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy.”
A ride through the dusty landscape of Australia’s Outback as the FAM presents 2005’s brutal Western The Proposition; directed by John Hillcoat, written by Coil Beat heartthrob Nick Cave, and starring Guy Pierce, Ray Winstone, Emily Watson, Danny Huston, and John Hurt to name a few.
The world of Hillcoat’s Australia, circa 1880, is a harsh, desolate, and unforgiving wasteland; an Abadon devoid of compassion or solace. It is this land that Ray Winstone’s Captain Stanley, having moved there with his proper, English wife Martha, attempts to tame. His immediate aim is to hunt down the Burns gang, who are wanted for the rape and murder of the Hopkins family. Having captured two of the brothers, Mikey and Charlie (Guy Pierce), he makes Charlie an offer: he and his brother will be released and excused of all crimes if Charlie kills his brother Arthur (Danny Huston), an eloquent psychopath so vicious that he is known to the Aboriginal inhabitants as “The Dog Man”.
Cave is an accomplished writer and The Proposition calls to mind many of the same themes as his first novel And the Ass Saw the Angel, a book I’ve read twice and still not decided whether I actually enjoyed. As with his novel, The Proposition comes close to merely becoming gruesome pornography of the soul. Cave constructs stories devoid of the concept of innocence — in the end all are guilty and shall be punished.
Still, the images of sun-baked emptiness and blood red skies evoke enough strange beauty to transcend, if only momentarily, the unyielding parade of violence. Winstone plays Stanley as a land-locked Ahab whose intentions, while principled, are not exactly pure in contrast to Arthur, a man with no illusions as to his place in world. The penultimate scene, taking place during an absurd staging of a traditional English Christmas dinner, is superb in its tension making for a dénouement in which no one wins.
It would, perhaps, be easy to dismiss The Proposition as a simple tale of violence begetting violence and indeed that might be a true assessment; but it is so raw in its telling, so unapologetic in its delivery that in the end such an observation is moot. It’s a film that refuses the viewer any consolation and expects no quarter in return. You may either watch or, like the Stanley’s Aboriginal servant Tobey — removing his shoes and abandoning them in the meticulously cultivated garden — you may quietly take your leave.
