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!
Glad you asked, Island Princess Barbie! How about letting the gloriously demented folks from Freeform Delusion circuit bend the ever-lovin’ frak outta you? They’re going to skin your pretty little head and soup it up with a switchable mono mini jack output, voice relay bypass, glowing/alternating LED eyeballs, and pitch manipulators. Would you like that, Barbie? Now you’re ready for the ball! You look like royalty. Let’s all sing.
Perhaps no fruit plays a greater role in ancient cultures than the noble fig. Subfossil figs have been found in Jordan that predate the domestication of even wheat and rye. The fruit also appears in many religious traditions, for instance the leaves of the fig tree were used, according to the Book of Genesis, as the first underwear.
No man may understand the fig like albertluk6043382973, a gentleman whose enjoyment of this fruit borders on the perverse. In his instructional video he shows the viewer exactly how to determine the fruit’s ripeness and how then to pluck it from the branches. Gently, he caresses the purplish skin, stretched taut by the bloated flesh within. With the intensity of an amateur pornographer he focuses our gaze on the ostiole, open and secreting a sugary dew.
Soon though, his movements become more daring. Grasping the fig with one hand he begins to twist the stem; splitting the skin with his fingers. Finally, released from the branch of its birth, he brings it towards us, tearing it open to reveal the sticky interior, flush and glistening. Only when we have drunk in this sight does the shirtless man bring the fig to his lips and devour it with an ardor tempered by months of desire and need. Here, truly, is a man whose love for the fig is unmatched. He is part of a long tradition, possessing a deep understanding of the natural eroticism of the Ficus carica — and in that knowledge he revels. Juice running down his face, he celebrates; for now is the time for figs.
Pink Tentacle recently posted a glut of gorgeously creepy children’s book illustrations by Ishihara Gōjin (or Gōjin Ishihara). A prolific illustrator in post-WWII Tokyo, the man has been repeatedly referred to as “The Norman Rockwell of Japan”. Which, of course, in the context of drawings of shrieking children being terrorized by human-headed snakes and anus-gobbling demonic turtle men, is pretty goshdarn special.
The first several images in Pink Tentacle’s gallery of Ishihara Gōjin’s work “appeared in the Illustrated Book of Japanese Monsters (1972), which profiled supernatural creatures from Japanese legend. The other illustrations appeared in various educational and entertainment-oriented publications for children.” But wait, there’s more! Soooo much more.
Kiddie yokai and sci-fi are only the beginning. Delve a little deeper, and you’ll discover that in addition to creating monstrous children’s fare, Ishihara Gōjin adapted the story of famed samurai Yagyū Jūbēi, which this manga reviewer describes as “Norman Rockwell drawing a manga series…about a gay love affair between Abraham Lincoln and a lean-hipped, square-jawed cowboy”. He’s also the mastermind behind this utterly mind-rending, eye-melting, Joe Coleman-would-be-proud cover of issue 2 of The Seikimatsu Club manga:
Lessee now… Charlie Manson’s got Sharon Tate in a chokehold while rubbing elbows with members of the Klu Klux Klan, and there’s benevolent ol’ Jim Jones, and AUM Shinrikyō’s Asahara Shōko on the cross… Alex Sanders… Ya Ho Wha 13… Anton LaVey (and barnyard pals), Deguchi Onisaburo… Ruth Norman (speak of the Atlantian!), and last but not least… Aleister Crowley? Holy fucking shitballs.
Quivering brainmeats not yet liquified? Observe more embolism-inducing imagery after the jump. Apologies in advance for the lack of English titles and references– most of the scans were ganked from an incredibleJapanese language shrine to Ishihara Gojin. Also, sure to read the in-depth feature over at Comipress covering his visionary career.
For many there is nothing like the taste of an ice cold beer on a hot summer day. For others, there is nothing like the taste of a beer brewed by gnomes on some remote mountain in the Himalayas at a rate of twenty bottles a year. You have met these people, no doubt, and they have explained to you in great depth just why you have never truly tasted an ale until you have quaffed one which has had its ingredients massaged by the tiny, nimble hands of Himalayan gnomes.
For those people Scottish brewery BrewDog has created The End of History. At 55% alcohol by volume it is currently the world’s strongest beer. BrewDog is making 11 bottles of the stuff which will come in two editions: Stoat and Squirrel, priced at $763.00 and $1068.00 respectively, making them also the most expensive beer at the moment. Also, in case you haven’t noticed, the beer comes in bottles — bottles that have been inserted into nattily dressed stuffed stoats and gray squirrels like furry, taxidermy beer-cozies which, at that price, is really the least BrewDog could do for it’s customers. Much higher and I would expect something endangered impaled on my drink or, perhaps, a rhino’s horn bottle opener. Further details, instructions for proper consumption can be found at BrewDog’s website.
The YouTube channel of Toby Turner (aka Tobuscus) has been a guilty pleasure ’round these parts ever since he first posted “FALCOR THE URINATOR” back in 2007. That’s a very long time in internet years– almost as long as the amount of time that someone here at the compound [not naming names] has been secretively compiling a vast personal stoke material archive of erotic clipsof amorousturtles. Imagine [REDACTED]’s joy when they discovered that Tobuscus made this remix:
When an artist as prodigiously talented as Chris Conn Askew* tells me that I’ve got to check out an artist, I don’t hesitate … especially when he tells me, “he’s been on fire lately!” I couldn’t agree more. Hiroshi Hirakawa has that rare and delicious combination of ferocious talent, tempered by a deep appreciation of historical techniques and precedent. Ukiyo-e or “pictures of the floating world” is a traditional form of Japanese painting and printmaking whose subject matter reflects a deep appreciation of earthly beauty, coupled with an acknowledgment of it’s transience. Hirakawa’s paintings, with their frequentallusions to mortality seem to fit into this genre – or at least to represent a vividly contemporary re-imagining of it. In addition to his epic allegorical works, there is also enough cephalopod love, tattooed odalisques, oblique geishas, and dissolute rapture to enchant and mystify even the most discerning viewer. As far as I can tell, the man behind the images is utterly mysterious, although his website provides a tiny peephole into his world. Luckily for all of you, there is a new print edition by Tattoo Elite International of his ravishing piece, Shrine, now available.
*Be sure to check out our upcoming feature on Chris Conn Askew in Coilhouse #5!
O frabjous day! Our beloved friend, the cellist Zoë Keating, has finally released her long-anticipated new album, Into the Trees. It’s streaming free on her website. It is gorgeous. If you like what you hear, you can purchase all eleven tracks for immediate download –directly from Zoë– in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format your heart desires. You also have the option of snail mail-ordering an artfully designed and presented CD. Quoth the composer: “No middlemen involved other than PayPal and your purchase allows me to keep making music, for which I am profoundly grateful.”
Last spring, while Zoë was still finishing up the album (and still pregnant with her beautiful baby boy, Alex, born May 13!), she granted Coilhouse Magazine an extensive, giddy interview. We discussed all manner of things both whimsical and practical– from the spirit of old growth forests and her biological imperative to counteract those proselytizing Quiverfull weirdos to the advantages of musicians self-producing and releasing their own albums, from the joy of nerd solidarity, to stage fright, to Tulip Mania. The article, titled “Into the Trees With Zoë Keating,” will be running in our upcoming issue #05, and features photography by our own dear Nadya, as well as Peter Hinson (the pictures you’re looking at are outtakes from that shoot), typography and illustration by Teagan White, and an exquisite custom-crafted wardrobe courtesy of Gibbous Fashions.
I don’t know about you but we here at the FAM are beat, dog-tired, perhaps even, knackered if you’re of the sort who use that specific verbiage. It’s been a long day and after a long day nothing soothes the soul and calms the nerves like a dose of the dulcet tones of David Attenborough. Here, then, is the naturalist (at the spry age of 45) in the BBC documentary A Blank on the Map from 1971, which details the first meeting of a previously uncontacted tribe in New Guinea. As I’ve noted before, the man could read a Denny’s menu and make it sound interesting. The FAM apologizes for the brevity and will return next week, fully refreshed, with a healthier helping of exposition.
