008. Grateful Reliquary
Hello friends,
Due to the lack of newsletter last Sunday, I've decided to send one out today to pair with your meals, family visit, or time with friends during this all-too-brief vacation. For this bonus letter, I assembled some bits and bobs that have brought me comfort and enjoyment over the past week, the strange and the soothing. Enjoy...
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TOUCH
Last week, I got to go see The Exterminating Angel at the Metropolitan Opera. I knew a little bit about the movie from which the opera is adapted from, but I wasn't sure what a contemporary, Surrealist opera would look or sound like. First of all, the set. THE SET. Every prop in the show appears to be carefully curated. The stage itself was minimally designed, with a gorgeous wooden arch slicing through the stage, becoming both an object and force from which the characters are forced to interact with. This piece is somehow both tightly controlled and unravelling with claustrophobic chaos (the characters shriek and snarl, yet each arrangement of their bodies is gracefully choreographed--sheep stand grazing calmly on the stage before one of them is slaughtered out of desperation). A beautiful, deeply unsettling show. When the curtains closed, the audience collectively exhaled with relief. While I'm sad to see it go, the original film by Luis Bunuel from which the opera is derived from has ended up at the very top of my to-watch list.
I've been meaning to try out Bahi Cosmetics for months now. Since it's been getting colder (and my skin ever drier), I decided to finally test out Bahi's sunflower sweets serum. Right off the bad, it’s a light serum so its hydrating and you can apply it in the morning under your regular moisturizer without worrying about excess oiliness throughout the day. Already, my skin feels softer and smoother (I read some reviews and it also helps with dark spots and acne scarring). It's also got a small (but powerful) ingredient list: Vitamin E, Tumeric Oil Root, Orange Fruit Extract, Grapefruit, and Grapeseed Oils. Bahi has 3 different bottle sizes to choose from, so you can test out the serum before you decide to buy more (although, honestly, I got the smallest bottle for $20 and it was way more than I thought it was going to be so it'll last for a few months).
LOOK
Julie Mehretu creates paintings so large and intricately detailed that you can get lost in them. Even just looking at them on my computer screen, I'm entering into a new kind of abstract geography. She incorporates global urban landscapes (such as architectural renderings or urban planning designs) and energetic gestures into her work, layering different elements and materials across her massive canvases to activate their surfaces. I'd suggest watching videos of her at work, it's amazing to see how much time and detail goes into these pieces. They are wonderful maps for the mind. I think of this quote from her: "I think of my abstract mark-making as a type of sign lexicon, signifier, or language for characters that hold identity and have social agency. The characters in my maps plotted, journeyed, evolved, and built civilizations. I charted, analyzed, and mapped their experience and development: their cities, their suburbs, their conflicts, and their wars."
I've been thinking about Rosemary Mayer's work a great deal. She was one of the founders of A.I.R Gallery and sister to Bernadette Mayer. Her work is conceptual, ephemeral, floating. She is most known for constructing these wire and fabric draping sculptures, like skin rolling off the wall. I adore the way her pieces are constructed through various conceptual rules and systems. There's something to be said about her relationship with the open air (many of her temporary installations took place outdoors with objects such as weather balloons). One of her pieces, The Catherines, from 1972-73, remembers the many great Catherines (the Great, of Sienna, of Aragon, etc). As if breaking outside of the fabric silhouettes of traditional feminine fashion design, her pieces bloom beyond the laws of history and gravity. I'd recommend reading this piece by Bernadette on her sister and this piece by Adrian Piper on Mayer's artistic practice.
An experimental student-artist at Black Mountain College, Asawa (sometimes called the "Fountain Lady") produced these beautiful handwoven hanging wire sculptures, turning what is a utilitarian medium into ephemeral beauty. There's something pristine and peaceful about their suspended, spherical bodies. I love how she intricately braids this traditionally masculine, industrial material, playing with permanence, transparency, and the fluidity of form in space, like unravelling segments of shining intestine.
LISTEN
I've had "Flaming Hot Cheetos" by Clairo stuck in my head for the past week. She's got this delightful, bedroom pop sound. Perhaps the sweetest song about lady crushes and Cheetos with dreamy lyrics like "I wanna be the one you think about at night / And I wanna be the one that you would put / up a fight for / You know that I adore / That even when you're bored / I'd buy you anything and everything I can't afford." Who needs wistful subtweeting when I have this song to soothe my restless lil heart.
Frances Glessner Lee had it all: heiress, wealthy divorcee, and one of the founders of modern forensic science. This detective-story loving lady would use her wealth to educate herself on forensic pathology (pursuing her passion by attending autopsies). Her greatest contribution to the forensic world are these miniature, intricately crafted crime scene dioramas (yeah, you read that right) called the "Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death" and were inspired by actual crime scenes Lee studied. I learned about Lee's life and passion through this episode of Smithsonian's Sidedoor podcast. This episode looks at Lee's life, her push against societal expectations of women at the time, and the influence of her dioramas today. She might just be the first ever true crime fan. I'd highly recommend if you're interested in art/sculpture or criminal history.
I recently listened to "A Place of Permission", the newest episode from the Poetry Foundation's Poetry Off the Shelf podcast. This episode traces the rise of female poets during the second wave feminist movement of the 60s and 70s. At the time, very few female poets were working successfully in academia and, more often than not, their work would be dismissed by the predominantly cis-male literary world. In New York, they began to develop workshops for women by women that would act as the earliest support systems for queer and WOC writers. Many of these workshops were taught in apartments, as these poets (including Sharon Olds, Alice Walker, Muriel Rukeyser, Adrienne Rich, Eileen Myles, Audre Lorde, each revolutionary poets in their own right) found new language and poetic forms to describe their own stories and experiences of sexuality, finding validation in their experimentation. Give it a listen for some poetic history.
My friend Emma recently turned me onto PHOX (who, alas, broke up recently??). Fronted by the always-angelic Monica Martin, they've got a lovely soft-spoken, bouncing folk sound. The kind that makes your heart ache until you weep, or urges your legs to dance in the sun across an open field. Watch any of their performances on Youtube and you'll be amazed by the sheer amount of talent that resides in this band. With tender, poignant lyrics, PHOX has warmed my aching joints. Some of my favourite tracks (so far): "Kingfisher", "Evil", "Satyr and the Faun", "In Due Time", and "Raspberry Seed".
LICK
I've become deeply interested in the world of art preservation (blame it on the Salvator Mundi and its history of poor restoration and possible misattribution?). Recently, I re-read an article from The New Yorker which had originally been assigned in one of my art history lectures. In "The Custodians, Ben Lerner spends some time with the Whitney Museum's conservation department. The article concerns itself with the complicated questions surrounding the material fate of art pieces (such as the mythological ship, the Argo, and Josh Kline's 3-d printed sculpture, "Cost of Living"). Art is never permanent, time does wear it away no matter how many years are spent restoring canvases, filling in cracks, layering paint, wiping away grime and it's up to conservators to decide how much decay should show through or when objects should be replaced (the museum becoming a kind of art-custodian). I'm utterly fascinated by the science behind art restoration, the kind of alchemy needed to create solutions capable of cleaning grime without ruining the paint underneath. Pair this article with Philip Mould's Twitter account. An art dealer and specialist in Old Masters work, Mould oftentimes posts videos of pieces during the cleaning process, uncovering all kinds of stories and secrets hidden beneath the grimy canvas.
In 1936, Joseph Cornell cut up and re-collaged East of Borneo after he bought a copy of the film at a junk shop into a new piece titled "Rose Hobart". The 77-minute film is whittled down to just 19 minutes, with footage of nature documentaries sliced in between. As he assembled the film, Cornell became obsessed with Rose Hobart, the lead actress. A kind of "fanvid", Cornell cuts out everything but shots of Hobart, her reactions to the action of the film. There's definitely something male gaze-y about this piece, but this movie can also be read beyond its blue aesthetic construction. I would argue that this piece, as pleasing as it is to watch, demonstrates the position of women in cinema, oftentimes passive and reactive rather than active agents in the plot, how they are reduced to objects of obsessive desire (in the original film, Hobart's character ends up in a love triangle and is warned that jungles are "too dangerous" for women) rather than fully-fleshed complex characters. If you have 18 minutes to spare, feel free to watch or leave its soothing blue in the background. I'll end with a fun fact: when the movie was first screened, Salvador Dali kicked over the projector and angrily accused Cornell of stealing the idea for the film "from my subconscious!"
Maybe it's just the autumnal fever in the air, but I've been thinking about Rick Owens's Fall/Winter 2017 Ready-to-Wear collection. I love the layering of materials and colours. He toys with shapes and skin, especially through his simple, yet precisely constructed headpieces, hanging sleeves, and swollen forms. There's something so comforting about these pieces like I want to climb into their soft dermis. Perfect for wearing in the woods as you walk to the site of a full moon ritual.
Last week, I decided to put on the new Joan Didion documentary, The Center Will Not Hold, while I prepared a big pot of soup and left it to simmer. I've read some of her works before, but I knew very little about her life (as a casual reader would). Whether you're a fan of Didion's work or not, there are lessons to be learned from watching this. She carries herself with a precise grace (evident in her writing just as much as the way she speaks), and her determination and persevering spirit carry through the film. Excerpts from her work are read in between interviews and archival footage (both from the 60s/70s and Didion's own family photographs and videos). Oftentimes, documentaries about writers tend to focus more on the writer's personal life/personality, completely overshadowing the nature of their work or simply mentioning the publication of books as a professional note in their greater chronology. This documentary strikes the right balance between celebrating her narrative work, observing Didion's personal relationships and professional journey, and examining her emotional life of great successes and great tragedies (The Year of Magical Thinking is one of the most important books about grieving you could ever read). Didion's life and writing remain in tight dialogue with each other, mapping out the interior of a writer utterly devoted to her craft.
CLICK
Perhaps the wildest Twitter thread I've ever had the pleasure of reading, I'd highly recommend this series of tweets about the "postmodern design hellscape" that is The Cheesecake Factory. With the flair of an architectural critic, he unpacks the chaotic design of this restaurant chain, from their tacky menus to their buildings made of all kinds of clashing architectural motifs to create a look that is somehow both ostentatious and cheap at the same time. A gem in the greater history of tacky American restaurant culture (featuring "the glamburger").
If recent headlines have got you feeling sad, helpless, or stir up bad memories, I'd recommend reading Charlotte Shane's article, "A Century of Women Fighting Back" in the New Republic. She traces the history of women fighting back against all kinds of harassment and the early origins of the Women's Self Defense Movement. An important read if you're considering or have done self-defence classes. (Speaking of self-defence, please consider signing this petition to free Cyntoia Brown, who murdered her abusive pimp after being sex-trafficked when she was sixteen).
An Instagram account that has brought me tremendous joy is Ebaybae. This account is dedicated to the deepest, darkest, strangest corners of Ebay. Whether its overpriced designer wear, cheesy movie props, or just weird fucking kitsch, give this a follow.
A brilliant essay I read recently was Claire Dederer's "What Do We Do With the Art of Monstrous Men?" . As more women come forward with their experiences of sexual harassment in the entertainment industry, I've seen the debate of separating art from artist arise time and time again. Dederer does a wonderful job of unravelling these arguments, underscoring the misogynistic narratives that oftentimes run through the works of these """"talented""" male creators (Woody Allen is an obvious example). A necessary read.
Lastly, I sometimes forget just how wild the world of fungi really is…and then I read an article titled "Why This Fungus Has Over 20,000 Sexes"http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/d-brief/2017/11/06/fungus-genders/ and I'm abruptly reminded. The biology behind this wild hyper-deconstruction of the binary is so that fungi can mate with every individual (from their own species) they might encounter due to differentiation in genetic locations that drive their sexual behaviour (versus humanity's specific, specialized sexual organs). Fungi get it on by rubbing their cells up against each other until they fuse (you can't make this shit up). Such a simple mating method means that they can quickly exchange the nuclei in their cells, along with their genetic information. As a result, these fungi have to be ready to encounter a huge number of different sexual identities. Talk about Close Encounters of the Third Kind. // I hope, as you all prepare to sleep whatever food is digesting in your stomachs, consider supporting the Partnership with Native Americans, support Black-owned, Queer-owned, Native-owned, and Women-owned businesses if you partake in Black Friday or Cyber Monday. If you have money to spare, please donate to the families of Flint who are still without clean water and the citizens of Puerto Rico who are still without power. If you don’t, please download Bail Bloc, a cryptocurrency application that uses the energy you generate from computer use to bail out individuals who can't afford to pay bail.
I'll end this letter with a fact: Bisexual women would give the women they were wooing "broccoli" throughout the early 20th century. This is due to a poem Sappho wrote about her lover wearing garlands of broccoli.
See you on Sunday,
Ellie