Yes, I am trying to find my way back here regularly. Be patient, I am working on it. And as I was thinking about how I strive to always reach my own expectations of what the perfect me is supposed to be, the following video came up in my Facebook stream.
Today I will bring you one of the best things that came out of starting this blog… meeting Darylle Pollack. Our paths crossed in such crazy ways. First we blogged together at the now defunct 50-something mom blog (where I lied about my age at 49 to get in, how funny is that?). Then on some crazy winter day when my daughter was a freshman at UW, I tweeted something about the weather gods being kind so my daughter could get out of Madison safely. Moments later I received a tweet back from Darryle that she, too, had a kid there. From then on we became instant friends.
Everyone should have a Darryle in their lives. So today I am sharing her with you. Enjoy.
As you may know, I am all about girl power. I have raised a strong daughter and a son who has a healthy respect for women who feel good about themselves. We take pride in feeling good about who we are and blah, blah, blah blah, blah… This post features two women who surely take their ideas of strong body image to new places.
Lovely painting, no? Pretty colors. Interesting textures. Makes you feel sort of warm and happy and optimistic about your day, right? And the best part about this baby is it was painted by boobies.
Ok, sort of an infantile thing to say. But seriously, all I had to do was vow to blog again and that old Magnet For The Absurd kavorka reactivated like you won’t believe. First, I signed onto Facebook today to find this post about boob painting from Taxi, one of my favorite sites.
Yes, boob painting. Marcey Hawk, a rather well endowed young woman, has chosen to take her two best assets and use them to paint with, taking the idea of body painting to a whole new level. This chick certainly is creative. I won’t get into her different methods here, you can read about them over on that Taxi post. The paintings are actually not bad and some of the world’s most famous bad boys are collectors.
As most of my early mornings are spent with post sharing – some professional, some just entertaining – I shared this one. Little did I know that one of my favorite cybergurls would counterpost me in the comments with one of the more outrageous things I have ever seen. And you know me, I thrive on the outrageous. Not easy to make me both wish I had unseen something and be ever so grateful that she shared it.
This one comes with a warning, it is surely not for the faint of heart. You see, as they used to say when I was in High School… tits are for kids. This, my friends, is a video about Vaginal Knitting.
No you did not read that wrong, this crazy Aussie is a ‘performer craftivist’ who spent 28 days in a gallery knitting from a skein of wool that she inserts in… her hey nanny nanny, so to speak. My favorite quote:
It’s unusual and confining. It’s restrictive, but no, it’s not painful. People push babies out of there, it’s a pretty robust area.
Robust indeed.
Honestly, even if I had not decided to blog again, this one would have taken me out of hibernation.
There is nothing better than someone who remains passionate and true to their craft, even after many years of practicing it. I am fortunate (and proud) to still have friends from art school who have kept it fresh. One such person is my dear friend Scott.
We have reconnected recently and I love to follow his posts, seeing his new projects and looking at the world through his eyes that have never lost the wonder and sense of joy that each new project brings.
I am so very proud of his latest accomplishment and wanted to share. Scott entered the Architectural Record/AIA Napkin Sketch competition with this enchanting submission above. The requirement stated that the sketch must be on a 5×5 napkin… and as Scott stated, ‘No one said it had to be flat’.
Hence, they had to make a new category for his submission and gave him an award. You can read about it here.
A huge thank you to Scott for continuing to always see the world through those ever questioning eyes, for never feeling the boundaries and for taking every project that one step further.
This could be my favorite graffiti ever! The guy behind me on Prince Street was none to happy about me stopping a little too long as the light turned so I could get this shot, but it was worth it.
I kept trying to think of what the next line should be:
I was already in love with you by then…
… so it was not necessary for you to try to impress me.
… but it was fun to watch you still working it.
… so the fact that you made the effort was even more endearing.
Ok, a little too romance novel for you. How about these:
… so it was no wonder I did not care that you had just puked on my shoes.
… so I overlooked the fact that you were wearing that shirt.
… but I am not all that sure I was into you leaving the bathroom door open just yet.
Ok, time to open this one up in the comments. Don’t be shy, you know you want to throw one in here.
Take a guess whose garbage this is? If you have been following along you would know that this garbage belonged to none other than the folks that threw out the Kandinsky print.
This is one household that takes their art seriously! You have to have some really interesting garbage to be posted here more than once.
I will admit that I did not photograph this when I first saw it because two young hipster dads were walking back from the bus stop when I saw it with Mel and I did not want them to think I was some crazy lady with a dog.
My neighbors are known for exceptionally interesting garbage. I might be the only one in the neighborhood to take notice, but the quality is not lost on me. If you are not a regular reader, click the links to see the Kandinsky garbage, the headless garbage, a prehistoric sentry and the funniest directions ever.
I know, I told you! Our garbage kicks ass!
Today I came across the scene above. I might be wrong about this being garbage. It might actually be a front yard gallery of sorts. Note the decided placement of the twig in front of the little painting. I found the whole scene simply delightful.
Here in this little piece of Tribeca that used to sit in the shadow of the Twin Towers it struck me how resilient this city is. And how, almost 10 years since that horrific date, a neighborhood could thrive with families and culture.
Battery Park City and this edge of Tribeca are model neighborhoods in which to raise children. There is free music, public art, more green space than you could ever imagine, playgrounds, an esplanade along the hudson and restaurants, bars, galleries and shops all creating a quality of life that rivals any other neighborhood in NY.
It is hard to imagine how this neighborhood looked in the days following 9/11; a war zone in our very city.
Unthinkable.
And yet in the true spirit of New York it rose again to become a place to live where they encourage kids to:
“You had the grace to hold yourself, while those around you crawled”
Sir Elton, how about this bizarre rendering of Marilyn?
Hold herself? Is that what is going on in this painting? Are those supposed to be her hands, because I am thinking that it might be physically impossible for one’s hands to be in that position.
So then I thought, ok, maybe they are someone else’s hands. I mean, really, not such a stretch to think that someone would want to cop a feel of those bodacious tatas, right? But notice the french manicure. So that would make it a woman touching her (not that there is anything wrong with that) but I have never heard talk of Marilyn Monroe being gay. Hey, you never know, my dear friend Frank tells me that everyone is gay except my husband because he knows that will freak me out.
Are you wondering if this is hanging in my house? Don’t be silly, we only moved in 20 years ago. You can’t possibly think that I have hung the artwork yet.
I saw this in the art supply store. The same one that housed the ever famous bustier pocketbook and the Ricky Martin lunchbox on its sale rack. This place is the mecca for tacky.
Note to self: visit Pearl Paint at least once a month for blogging material.
If I ever doubted why I carry a camera in my bag at all times this little frivolity confirmed my desire to always have one handy.
When I see an item like this I wonder if it were transported to a different context might it be seen as the hottest fashion craze? Hang one off the arm of an Olsen twin and these things would be flying off the shelves instead of hanging on the sale rack. The very same sale section where I spotted the Ricky Martin lunchbox back in October.
The odd thing is that these items were not found in a novelty store. I saw them at Pearl Paint, an art and craft supply mega-store that I always make excuses to visit as often as possible. This is the art supply store of my formative art student years. I simply feel better in those aisles with all those tubes and brushes. Yeh well, ok.
This bustier purse begs the question, “What art supply store buyer would make the choice to stock this item in the first place?” Going through supplier catalogs checking off inventory: oil paint, brushes, gold leaf, erasers, drawing paper, hot pink satin bustier purse with rhinestone accents, erasers, picture frames, clay… Sorry don’t see the logic here. Kind of like the Where’s Waldo of retail.
You know, looking at it now it is growing on me. I am kind of sorry I did not purchase it.
Hmmm, do you think it will still be there tomorrow? Seriously, this could MAKE any outfit at a North Shore Long Island Bar Mitzvah, no?
Believe it or not, this van has been parked around the corner from my house for years and I have never thought to take a picture of it. I am sure the first time I saw it I was amused, but it became one of those weird things that are commonplace with routine. Still, not your average sight in a sleepy suburban town.
Now that I decided to make this my New Year’s post I had to give it some more thought.
I can’t help but wonder what the inside of this vehicle looks like. There are some makeshift curtains on the side windows. It looks like it was a school mini-bus in its first life which seems quite fitting. Not sure about the rack on the back, or is that apparatus used to keep the back doors bolted shut, like once you get inside you are not leaving so fast? Hmm, creepy.
What goes on in there? Is it piled high with German literature? What sort of weird activities could take place while driving around in a Kafka van? Do the occupants speak in run on sentences? Is there a sense of hopelessness when seated behind the wheel? Do other people think these things when driving by the Kafka van or is it just me?
I visited our dear friend Wikipedia and found out that good ol’ Franzy boy was an insurance man by profession. Not sure if that fits his aura, but hey, everyone has to make a living.
Here’s one more little interesting Wikifact about Kafka:
Prior to his death, Kafka wrote to his friend and literary executorMax Brod: “Dearest Max, my last request: Everything I leave behind me … in the way of diaries, manuscripts, letters (my own and others’), sketches, and so on, [is] to be burned unread.”[18] Brod overrode Kafka’s wishes, believing that Kafka had given these directions to him specifically because Kafka knew he would not honor them—Brod had told him as much.
So, which one of you do I ‘assign’ the deleting (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) of all my blog posts upon my demise?
You will have to excuse me now as I need to go drive around and see if I can find where the Fellini convertible is parked.
i could cry but i don't have time 
