This morning I was thinking of how to seamlessly write about two very unrelated things, yesterday’s earthquake in China and today’s announcement of the death of artist Robert Rauschenberg. For whatever reason I didn’t want to write about one thing without mentioning the other. While mining the internets for information and imagery relating to these two events, I came across the following photos:
Rauschenberg’s Bed (1955)
Chinese woman clears earthquake debris
What can I possibly say to connect the catastrophic deaths of over 10,000 Chinese people with the passing of a famous, elderly Abstract Expressionist turned Pop artist? I guess I can comment on the random nature of beds — how they aren’t really supposed to be art but sometimes are just that, or how they are supposed to be safe but sometimes aren’t that at all.
I knew that when I started this blog I would dedicate my first post to the goddess who is Annie Sprinkle. Shy and awkward Jewish girl turned ’70s porn star turned post-porn performance artist, Ms. Sprinkle is one of my porny pop culture heroes. Not only that, she’s one of my feminist heroes too.
I was fortunate enough to see Annie perform twice during my college years in the mid-’90s. One of these performances was a rare college campus appearance, courtesy of Annie’s mentor/former lover/collaborator/performance artist extraordinaire and at the time UT Art prof, Linda Montano. If you’re unfamiliar with Linda Montano and her amazing (and somewhat literal) body of work, do yourself a favor and check her out.
The first time I saw her perform, Annie’s show consisted largely of a slideshow accompanied by her dead-witty dialog and industry stories. This was followed by a brief burlesque-y sort of number, and topped off by her now-famous cervix display. What struck me most and left the greatest lasting impression was not the graphic nature of Annie’s show, but the radiantly positive, funny and relaxed manner in which she delivered her saucy material. This is a woman who lovingly opened herself up to display her most “private” parts for audience members just so we could each get a good look at a cervix (because most of us had never seen one, Annie said). We even could take a picture if we wanted. I wanted, and somewhere this glossy shot is buried in my belongings. If I find it I promise to post it at a later date.
I haven’t seen the pic in years, but naturally the image is burned upon my brain forever: Annie is splayed open with a speculum, her stiletto-heeled feet in stirrups on either side of the picture frame. An assistant points the beam of a flashlight towards her opening. Annie looks down at the camera with her eyes full of sparkle. I am behind the camera nervous and smiling.
Harry Smith is the kind of guy who makes me feel guilty. Guilty for not going out and making art and documenting the human experience every minute of every hour of every day. Watching a folk music documentary on the Ovation channel tonight, I was reacquainted with the genius of Harry Smith. Harry Smith compiled (from his own collection) the legendary Anthology of American Folk Music, which was released in 1952 on Folkways Records. In 1965 he went on to record and produce the first record by avant folk/rock pranksters, the Fugs. Not only that, he was at one time “the greatest living magician” according to the godfather of experimental cinema, Kenneth Anger. Because even before Harry was capturing magical music, he was making magic with film. Check this piece out:
The life and work of Harry Smith is severly interesting. Visit his website here. And though I have only started this bad boy, here’s a hefty and heady analysis of Smith’s films, entitled Alchemical Transformations: The Abstract Films of Harry Smith (Jamie Sexton). Now, go make art.
Now that I have your attention, listen up. This album was released in 1974, and few original copies exist today (the copies that are still in existence will cost you mucho dinero to acquire). I just read this LP was reissued in a very small run (prolly for collector scum), so I suggest you take a few moments to download this here digital file. Amazingly good afro psych/pop/groove. A fuzzy lead guitar snakes its way through one catchy, rhythmic tune after the next. Highly recommended.
Oh gentle readers, my blog posts have been few and far between, I know. I’ve been sort of overwhelmed with attempting to navigate the sea of information online as of late. I’ve found the migration of users from Myspace to the cleaner, yet just as time-wasting, Facebook to be a semi-fascinating phenomenon. Social media — is it a groovy new way to communicate or just the next dot com bubble? I think that remains to be seen, and the future is unwritten so it’s anyone’s guess. I know lately that I crave to return to some more primal, pure, way of living. Twitter and Facebook are nice, yes, but what about steppes and tundras? Deserts, forests and oceans. Albert Hoffman in his old age and wisdom said that we must include nature in our everyday lives in order to be happy. I agree. A conundrum of modern life has always been how to marry progress with happiness. Here are ten historic clashes that kicked our intellectual evolution into overdrive:
I have to blog about this infographic from the New York Times article,Why Is Her Paycheck Smaller? While the results are annoying (yet not surprising), I find this to be a very cool little infographic. It’s interactive, so click on the below image to go to the NYT page then rollover the dots to see details.
Or collapsing, depending on how you look at it. People getting laid off left and right. The center cannot, and will not, hold. I’m trying to stay positive and forward-thinking, but it’s becoming really hard. I’m thankful to still be employed. The future is unwritten.
Here’s something nice I discovered this week, however: Picnik, the online image editor. My favorite feature is the Firefox extension, which allows you to edit and upload images without ever leaving your browser. Nice to not have to launch Photoshop just to do some quick image edits/fixes.
Another cool thing I discovered this week is the Maybe Logic Academy. Online courses are offered by well-respected authors and social critics on subjects such as Gnosis, NLP and secret initiation rites. There’s even a course on how to run your own cult. According to the website, by the course’s end “students will have designed and developed their own religious cult to the point of marketability.”
OK so I’ve sort of neglected my REAL blogging duties lately here at Pink Moan in favor microblogging over at Twitter. What can I say, I have a short yet intense attention span. If you’re interested, my Twitter handle is Gnat74.
Weekend before last my friend Kitty and I made a trip to the Integratron, near Joshua Tree. Long story short the Integratron is an acoustically perfect, wooden geodesic dome-type structure. A late UFO enthusiast built it over the course of many years, but now these cool women own it and offer sound bath therapy sessions in the dome. Per the Integratron website: “The Integratron is the creation of George Van Tassel, and is based on the design of Moses’ Tabernacle, the writings of Nikola Tesla and telepathic directions from extraterrestrials. This one-of-a-kind building is a 38-foot high, 55-foot diameter, non-metallic structure originally designed by Van Tassel as a rejuvenation and time machine. Today, it is the only all-wood, acoustically perfect sound chamber in the U.S.” During a soundbath sesh, a series of quartz bowls are rung that correspond to each Chakra. The effect is uber-spacey and trance-inducing due to the dome’s heightened acoustical properties. No, this isn’t just hippie mumbo jumbo. I don’t know if I was in between sleep and wakefulness at one climactic point during the soundbath, but I do know I was somewhere else entirely. Here are a couple of pics, one exterior and one shot of the roof of the dome. Hey the iPhone camera isn’t too bad, sure wish it had a flash:
