Filed under: art, literature | Tags: art, book, brian dettmer, dark roast blend, fossils, sculpture
Dark Roast Blend has a lovely post about the art of carving up books. Part of me wants to cry when I think of butchering up a could be literary gem; I would say that feeling quickly resides when I see these amazing works that were created from them.
In the photo above Brian Dettmer creates a foss-ilized book; or rather a books-ilized fossil.
Filed under: art, literature | Tags: babar, cartoon, cmj, drawing, elephant, Laurent de Brunhoff, new york, sketches, The Morgan Library and Museum
You did didn’t you?
You thought I forgot all about my little scrawlings here.
Well I didn’t… and might I further add I have not forgotten many a thing;
Just as I have forgotten many a thing.
It’s really quite complicated.
Right, so let’s concentrate on what I haven’t forgotten and give me something to write.
Babar! That is one name I soon wont forget.
There is currently an exhibit of original drawings by Laurent de Brunhoff, the creator of the fantastical little elephant. Seeing as this is at The Morgan Library and Museum in New York it’s quite the trek for me across this vast country – Kerouac would agree as much. However, I know of many a man and woman going to CMJ… why not take a little peak at your childhood?
Filed under: america, literature | Tags: 1920's, algonquin round table, dorothy parker, poet, poetry
If I continue to read Mrs. Parker I’m afraid I’ll fall into what some may consider an abyss.
I’m sure I’d consider it bliss.
Razors pain you
Rivers are damp
Acids stain you
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful
Nooses give
Gas smells awful
You might as well live.
-Dorothy Parker
Never trite, ever so snide.
Always combating that which we hide.
Her wit certainly puts yours to shame.
Filed under: art, literature | Tags: book covers, george orwell, penguin books, political parties, propaganda, shepard fairey
To judge a book by it’s cover is to judge a person by their appearance;
Not always accurate but certainly a peak as to what’s inside.
Shepard Fairey has recently redesigned two book covers for Penguin Books, Animal Farm and 1984. Coincidentally these books just happen to be two of my favorite by the renowned George Orwell.
To read and see more: Kitsune Noir.
Filed under: america, literature, tid bits | Tags: america, books, borat, kurt vonnegut, literature, quote, robert pinsky
Having just watched Borat for the first time I couldn’t help but feel the usual disgust, shock and awe at just how deranged we Americans truly are.
However – and I use this with the utmost emphasis – after starting to read Timequake
by the late, great, Kurt Vonnegut I came across a quote by the poet, Robert Pinsky:
“It was all here for me, just as it has all been for you, the best and worst of Western Civilization, if you cared to pay attention: music, finance, government, architecture, law and sculpture and painting, history and medicine and athletics and every sort of science and books, books, books and teachers and role models.
“People so smart you can’t believe it and people so dumb you can’t believe it. People so nice you can’t believe it and people so mean you can’t believe it.”
Of course he was only referring to Indianapolis during this speech. I on the other hand like to think of it as an ode to the whole US of A.
God bless the unbelievably good parts of America.
Filed under: art, literature | Tags: "The Picture of Dorian Gray", art, books, literature
“It is a malady.”
“Love?”
“An illusion.”
“Religion?”
“The fashionable substitute for belief.”
A bit of a passage from ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’, written by none other than the man, the myth, the legend, Oscar Wilde.
Books such as this always seem to get me thinking. This tends to set me off on another one of my desperate attempts to pull myself together. I daresay it’s quite the mess. This time, I like to believe, is different. Well I think so anyway.
Though many of the philosophies and ideologies are that of a jest or cynical remark there is no doubt that they question many of mans emotions and creativities that are but taken for granted. When they speak of art in the book they speak of it as it should be, as a beauty. It is not supposed to be anything practical. It is supposed to be an indulgence of an emotion that is superior to sin.
The question this book has left me with is this:
Is conscience truly cowardice? For to scratch the itch and quench the thirst one is at times left to commit acts that are anything but honorable. Yet to live fear and yield not to such things, experience and understanding will continue to lay just out of reach.
It is all rather tedious isn’t it?
