Breaking news! I realize this is very last minute and only applies to our brethren in Northern California, but tonight Jesse Hawthorne Ficks is hosting a “Disco Extravaganza” at the gorgeous Castro Theater in SF. They’ll be showing prints of The Wiz, Staying Alive, and best of all, everyone’s favorite futuristic spiritual disco rock opera cult classic,The Apple.
Wait, what’s that you say? You’ve never seen The Apple before?
Mister Boogalow disapproves.
The Apple is a steaming Midas turd of a film baked in massive amounts of tin foil. It’s a glitter-encrusted, mylar-ensconced acid trip. It’s Jem and the Holograms’ flea market jamboree. It’s… it’s…. oh I have no idea what on earth these people were thinking, but the result is utter crackpot genius.
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.
“They call their series Exactitudes: a contraction of exact and attitude. By registering their subjects in an identical framework, with similar poses and a strictly observed dress code, Versluis and Uyttenbroek provide an almost scientific, anthropological record of people’s attempts to distinguish themselves from others by assuming a group identity. ” – Exactitudes Website
These pictures go a long way to remind me that no matter how individualistic people think they are with their clothes and makeup, in the end we are all divided into relatively homogeneous tribes. These dress codes, both on the street and on MySpace, make it easy to find new friends – or at least they used to. When I was younger, if I saw green-haired girl with weird jewelry on the train, I could easily strike up a conversation on basis of common interests. I’ve met a lot of friends that way. These days, that’s not the case. I’ve met freaky-looking people who had nothing in common with me, and I’ve met people dress completely “normal” who turned to be some of the most unique individuals I’ve ever known. People dress a certain way in order to send social cues to each other about common interests, but now with the Avril Lavigne generation, “alternative” cues that used to mean a lot don’t mean nearly quite as much.
It’s still possible to meet new friends in cities while simply walking down the street, but it’s a lot more tricky than it was when I was 15. Either I’ve changed, or social norms have changed, or both. Now, I pay attention more to what people are holding in their hands, what type of facial expression they have, what they’re reading, rather than their hair color or makeup. How do you find friends in the crowd?
Since the beginning of time, humans have appointed self-important and often hilarious ritual to the disposal of human remains (mummies anyone?). In an interesting and controversial addition to this extravaganza, artist Nadine Jarvis designs a bird-feeder made from bird food and human ash.
Yes, you too can be bird shit.
Clearly, maggots are not high enough on the food chain to touch us. It’s time we put a stop to this. Harsh as it sounds, it is a far more ethical and a vastly less ridiculous measure than the perverse, half-arsed preservation that traditional Western burial offers.
So far, no complaints from the avian demographic, although we’re still awaiting comment from the vulture community.
I’m lucky to have not one but two Russian grandmas. Every so often I crawl out of my home, cursing and half-blinded by unwelcome sunlight, shedding the paint-stained jumpsuit in exchange for something nice to pay a visit. Ever since the first drop of dye touched my hair maybe 13 years ago, I’ve been given the business. This, I imagine, is something many of us share, the nagging question, the hovering “When”. When will you go back to your natural hair color? When will you take out that lip ring? When will that ink wash off your skin? WHEN WHEN WHEN. I’ve tried asking myself too but the answer always comes back the same – quite possibly never.
Age is slowly decreasing in importance even now. Research, life extension, better cosmetic surgery – our options are evolving. I’m not inspired by the plastic buffoons of Hollywood, instead I look to people I’ve actually met – take inventor, writer and wearer of many hats Tom Jennings for instance; a brilliant ageless creature, tattooed, pierced and stylish, striped socks and all. And what about Marchesa Luisa Cassati or Betsey Johnson or other people who overflow with creativity and, sequentially, vitality and remain outside the tired norm despite their age?
So how do we explain “never” and “there’s no reason to”? I can hardly explain the Internet, in fact most of my life is led in what seems to them like another plane of existence. Not a new question by any means, but how do we explain an entire culture, developed and thriving entirely outside of the elderly’s frame of reference? As a possible solution, I’m entertaining an idea of a full presentation with a laptop and a projector. A crash course on alternative culture. Will grandmas approve?
Yesterday, our friend Warren Ellis posed an interesting question: “why doesn’t alt culture exist?” In his weekly column, The Sunday Hangover, Warren points the finger in the same direction as our mission statement, blaming the rapacious mainstream. However, Warren goes a step further, fingering another culprit:
We’re in Reynolds’ “anachronesis” — living in a time of constant, delusional recursion, in a limbo of a dozen different pasts. Re-enactment, like living as a medieval soldier for a never-ending Renaissance Faire. Being Lenny Kravitz. Being the White Stripes. Record collection bands. People who like Amy Winehouse. Reynolds again: “Things under the sway of anachronesis are just nothing. You might as well be dead.”
Here’s another theory: perhaps anachronesis is not the retardant of a burgeoning alt culture, but its catalyst. After all, every subculture has always been a mediated response to the mainstream: punk culture’s rebellion grew out of a disillusionment with the rewards promised by white-collar mobility; Rastafarianism was a subversion of the white man’s religion; both the riot grrls of the 90s and the flappers of the 20s adopted certain styles to reject – or reclaim – certain conventions of womanhood. What, then, is the mainstream culture that today’s alt puts under the microscope?
Just a season’s reminder of the unspeakable horror lurking outside your wooden hovel’s window, as you huddle atop a clay oven wrapped in ragged shawls and quilts for warmth. Beware, the vurdalak!
I can’t have been any older than 8 or 9 when my brain was permanently warped byThe Adventures of Mark Twain. My folks though they were treating me to fluffy kid’s fare. They were quite wrong. A full length feature directed by claymation innovator Will Vinton, the film follows the existensial journey of Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher as crew members aboard the funky, Verne-inspired flying machine of a very suicidal Mark Twain.
It’s been well documented that Twain –who was born and died with the arrival of Halley’s Comet– was a deeply depressed, reclusive misanthrope in his later years. In the film, disgusted with the human condition, Twain is determined to hunt down the comet and crash into it. “I will continue on doing my duty, but when I get to the other side, I will use my considerable influence to have the human race drowned again, this time drowned good. No omissions. No ark.”
Worried about their own fate, the kids plot to hijack the ship. With the aid of an inter-dimensional portal aboard, they meet several characters from Twain’s various short stories, including Captain Stormfield, the Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and The Mysterious Stranger (this last sequence has got to be one of the impressive displays of clay animation around, not to mention the creepiest):
