poupees

RICH

2011-11-18T04:05:00.001-08:00

photo: aron gent

LIGHT TOUCH

2011-05-12T09:48:00.000-07:00

Christine Godden

2011-05-10T14:19:00.000-07:00

Annie Collinge

myth girl

2011-05-01T15:05:00.000-07:00

Kishin Shinoyama

Portraits

2011-04-25T09:26:00.000-07:00

Jocelyn Lee

I've been here before so many times

2011-04-18T08:29:00.001-07:00

BLUE

2011-04-18T08:13:00.001-07:00

2011-02-21T15:11:00.000-08:00

photo:: Paul Outerbridge

Claudine Doury

2010-12-24T05:36:00.000-08:00

belle de jour

2010-12-18T05:05:00.000-08:00

photo by: Tatjana Suskic

2010-11-21T09:02:00.000-08:00

you give me so much to forget

2010-11-17T05:07:00.000-08:00

Sylvia Sleigh

my indigo

2010-10-07T10:26:00.000-07:00

it's late.

Little sister, my indigo,
my secret, vaginal and sweet,
you unfurl yourself shamelessly
toward the ground. You burn. You live
a while in two worlds
at once.

by:Li-Young Lee

SMALL ETERNITY

2010-09-19T12:55:00.000-07:00

photo:: Tatjana Suskic

2010-09-19T12:43:00.000-07:00

Sweet Adeline

2010-08-28T16:05:00.000-07:00

Say you'll be mine
Won't you come and let me whisper in your ear
Way down yonder in the old corn field
For you
I've pined
Sweeter than the honey
To the honey bee
I love you
Say you love me
Meet me in the shade
Of the old apple tree
Eva-Iva-Ova-Evaline

T.S.Eliot "The Waste Land"

telo svetlosno ti

2010-08-03T07:59:00.000-07:00

2010-07-10T10:44:00.000-07:00

poem

2010-07-09T15:36:00.000-07:00

when I am in your presence I feel life is strong
and will defeat all its enemies and all of mine
and all of yours and yours in you and mine in me
sick logic and feeble reasoning are cured
by the perfect symmetry of your arms and legs
spread out making an eternal circle together
creating a golden pillar beside the Atlantic
the faint line of hair dividing your torso
gives my mind rest and emotions their release
into the infinite air where since once we are
together we always will be in this life come what may

Frank O'Hara

dark lava

2010-07-07T10:02:00.000-07:00

things were electric and the days
were long

in small towns where people easily
get bored

the situation has a situation

your tongue was out
when I tried to reach it
your eyes glowed like a flashed flock
in the dark

in the fruitless dark
cold as ever
cactus is male
fading dog shows
we captured in her divorced mother’s
room
she ate all her letters

or turned them into confetti
stretched out
on unfancy pillows, blanket

you gaze was fixed elsewhere

she ran a casino
she was the owner’s wife
she wasn’t her parents’ child

I can give you a ride
and your eyes glowed

you can go home now
leave me here

things were electric and the days
were long

photo and poem :: Tamara Suskic

every time we kiss

2010-07-03T10:03:00.000-07:00

Yes Yes

2010-07-03T09:29:00.000-07:00

when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountains and the sea and fire at the same time

He made some mistakes
but when He created you lying in bed
He came all over His Blessed Universe.

Charles Bukowski

Si mis dedos pudieran deshojar a la luna

2010-06-25T09:29:00.000-07:00

tu mirada

2010-06-25T09:02:00.000-07:00

you've been on my mind

2010-06-21T10:16:00.000-07:00

photo:: Tatjana Suskic

curiouser

2010-06-05T16:49:00.000-07:00

photo:: tatjana suskic

rare birds

2010-05-26T05:16:00.001-07:00

of the leaning tall grass down there quite a

2010-05-26T05:07:00.000-07:00

2010-05-24T15:11:00.000-07:00

I'm almost in love with you
I nearly miss you, I've hardly seen you
When I do, I get a feeling that something should be there
I almost like your eyes, they're green not blue
Your touch could thrill me
What can I do, I'm not, but almost, in love with you. . .

Bo Harwood

tonight

2010-05-23T09:38:00.000-07:00

tonight

I hang your lips

like birdseed

outside my door

and observe

through the window

their death-struggle

with the she vulture.

tonight

let go

the snow

Elfriede Jelinek

never

2010-05-23T09:30:00.000-07:00

jackson eaton

*

2010-05-12T04:17:00.000-07:00

Harley Weir

take me to the desert

2010-04-17T09:38:00.000-07:00

photo:: sallskapdans

if I don't get enough

2010-04-15T12:44:00.001-07:00

Margo Ovcharenko

Elinor Carucci

beautiful faces

2010-03-27T15:52:00.000-07:00

photo:: Walker Evans

our motorbike

2010-03-12T12:59:00.000-08:00

Our Motorbike

by Elfriede Jelinek

rocket water
eglantine
wooden moon on the roof
signs of night &
the red motorbike's
bleeding muscle
fleshed stalk dripping
and overgrowing our evening
it too
a sign of darkness
a leek's fat body
the red motorbike
our night fire
ravishment of chrome
steel

our red motorbike glazed
with henna and betel it squirts
salmon juice between the dark
of our thighs it sprouts
and shouts at the bar
it wears a portion of
evening in its eye
it sloughs off sleep like
the bushes drop resin &
berries
our rags dip purring in
even redder roar
our muscles softly skip sweet
sweat flickers we polish
carefully &
assiduously our eyes are perched
on steel antennae surely there is
nothing redder than our motorbike
steed
we will live on it
our red tent
dig our claws into
its heart cherries meat it
shouts out
spittle rip
the juice instructs
the eyes
in the language of iron

the red night squats
pressed against our motorbike

we ride hunting little girls
in the wooden sky

Parc Central / White sands

2010-03-11T12:04:00.000-08:00

Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster -"Parc Central / White sands"
by arginati22

Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster

i can see you

2010-03-01T15:46:00.001-08:00

nina ahn

dance

2010-02-12T15:32:00.000-08:00

Collector

2010-02-11T06:47:00.001-08:00

sexual healing

2010-01-29T07:47:00.001-08:00

molim te, Maestro

2010-01-29T07:44:00.001-08:00

photo:: Jody Rogac

white magic

2010-01-23T07:59:00.001-08:00

photo:: Tatjana Suskic

please please

2010-01-23T07:56:00.001-08:00

a plea for tenderness

2010-01-16T15:24:00.000-08:00

........I only want to know about you
and it hurts me now
and it scares me now
and now you know

but if you care about me
tell me now
if I'm better than the wall
tell me now
and if it's important when I touch your hand
then you'd better
tell me now

well

now, i've just read some writers
from the old days
because I knew, I knew that they'd understand
because dignity, dignity and tenderness should apply
to modern romance
So i don't wanna know, I'm just not interested in you're school
So i don't wanna know, I don't wanna hear about you're stupid cats
(or you're homework)
just talk about love, or sex, or starving hearts, or just shut up
and I'll go

but

if you care about me
tell me now
if I'm better than the wall
tell me now
and if it's important when I touch you're hand
tell me now
and if it's important when I come to you're kitchen
when it's late at night
and when it's cold at night
when it's dark outside
when it's cold outside
I wanna know if it's important when I touch your hand
when you're all alone
(tell me now)
if you really want to talk to me
(tell me now)
and if you're lookin for a lover
(tell me now)
I mean, if you need a lover
(tell me now)
if you're ready to be honest with a lover
(tell me now)
if it's important when you're alone at night
and when it's cold at night and when it's dark at night
when it's cold outside when it's sad outside
and when I'm sad outside, by the streetlight
by your house and near your kitchen door
I'm stumped because I'm scared
Because I'm sad
Because it's cold at night
Because it's dark at night
and I'm alone at night
I'm so sad and I'm so scared
and I want to know, if you'll tell me
if you care about me
then if you care about yourself
and if you'll stop bein so hard
and if you'll stop being hard to talk to
and if you'll let me come inside
and I can talk to you
when it's dark at night
and when it's sad at night
and alone at night
I don't want to be alone at night
(tell me now)
I don't want to be sad at night
(tell me now)
I want to help you
when it's cold outside
when you're all around
when it's sad outside
I want you to tell me now
I can't wait another day
you gotta hurry
I can't wait another minute
It's now or never
It's now or never
you gotta tell
you gotta tell
you can't hide
or cigarettes
or dark outside
or cats
or these other things that you use
so I can't see you clear
I want to see you clear
I want to talk to you now
you've got to be honest now
you've got to tell me now
if you care about me
tell me now

a plea for tenderness from modern lovers

sois gentil

2010-01-06T05:24:00.000-08:00

We're so comfortable in your room
Be nice, be nice
I come for the first time to see your house
Be nice, be nice
Do not look at me like that.

As the fire I tremble
Whenever we are together
Be nice, be nice
Especially do not ask me again why
Be nice, be nice
I want to stay so far from you.

istanbul

2010-01-02T11:43:00.001-08:00

photo:: tatjana suskic

happy new year

2010-01-02T10:51:00.001-08:00

a nos amours

2009-12-30T16:02:00.000-08:00

and right now

2009-12-30T09:16:00.001-08:00

Crosses

2009-12-24T12:44:00.000-08:00

Super 8 - 1974 from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo.

my girl’s tall with hard long eyes

2009-12-21T13:45:00.000-08:00

my girl’s tall with hard long eyes
as she stands, with her long hard hands keeping
silence on her dress, good for sleeping
is her long hard body filled with surprise
like a white shocking wire, when she smiles
a hard long smile it sometimes makes
gaily go clean through me tickling aches,
and the weak noise of her eyes easily files
my impatience to an edge—my girl’s tall
and taut, with thin legs just like a vine
that’s spent all of its life on a garden-wall,
and is going to die. When we grimly go to bed
with these legs she begins to heave and twine
about me, and to kiss my face and head.

e.e.cummings

The wind is everything to them

2009-12-20T13:19:00.001-08:00

The wind comes from opposite poles,

traveling slowly.

She turns in the deep air.

He walks in the clouds.

She readies herself,

shakes out her hair,

makes up her eyes,

smiles.

The sun warms her teeth,

the tip of her tongue moistens them.

He brushes the dust from his suit

and straightens his tie.

He smokes.

Soon they will meet.

The wind carries them closer.

They wave.

Closer, closer.

They embrace.

She is making a bed.

He is pulling off his pants.

They marry

and have a child.

The wind carries them off

in different directions.

The wind is strong, he thinks

as he straightens his tie.

I like this wind, she says

as she puts on her dress.

The wind unfolds.

The wind is everything to them.

poem:: Mark Strand

slow moves

2009-12-19T13:48:00.001-08:00

A compromise
between honesty and lies
To lead me past
their disguise

My moves are slow
but soon they'll know
My moves are slow
but soon they'll know

Behind the scenes
they grow their schemes
Hiding intentions
revealing only fractions

poem:: José González - Slow moves

AUSENCIA

2009-12-18T08:02:00.001-08:00

niti boli budjenje
nije oblak
nije planina
i gotovo je nepodnosljiv uzitak

stihovi:: katalin ladik

*

2009-12-12T10:10:00.000-08:00

How insensitive
I must have seemed
When you told me that you loved me
How unmoved and cold I must have seemed
When you told me so sincerely

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NNjLvAAE2e8

The hot night makes us keep our bedroom windows open.

2009-12-11T14:43:00.001-08:00

...............................................................................................................................................................................................

Oh the monotonous meanness of his lust. . .

Robert Lowell

and he was

2009-12-08T07:02:00.000-08:00

I
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

II
O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; 'O Johnny, let's play':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
'Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver and golden silk gown;
'O John I'm in heaven,' I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away.

poem::W.H.Auden
photo::Kohei Yoshiyuki

everything shakes

2009-12-05T07:25:00.000-08:00

maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe

lost in translation

2009-12-03T14:50:00.000-08:00

A card table in the library stands ready
To receive the puzzle which keeps never coming.
Daylight shines in or lamplight down
Upon the tense oasis of green felt.
Full of unfulfillment, life goes on,
Mirage arisen from time's trickling sands
Or fallen piecemeal into place:
German lesson, picnic, see-saw, walk
With the collie who "did everything but talk"—
Sour windfalls of the orchard back of us.
A summer without parents is the puzzle,
Or should be. But the boy, day after day,
Writes in his Line-a-Day No puzzle.

He's in love, at least. His French Mademoiselle,
In real life a widow since Verdun,
Is stout, plain, carrot-haired, devout.
She prays for him, as does a curé in Alsace,
Sews costumes for his marionettes,
Helps him to keep behind the scene
Whose sidelit goosegirl, speaking with his voice,
Plays Guinevere as well as Gunmoll Jean.
Or else at bedtime in his tight embrace
Tells him her own French hopes, her German fears,
Her—but what more is there to tell?
Having known grief and hardship, Mademoiselle
Knows little more. Her languages. Her place.
Noon coffee. Mail. The watch that also waited
Pinned to her heart, poor gold, throws up its hands—
No puzzle! Steaming bitterness
Her sugars draw pops back into his mouth, translated:
"Patience, chéri. Geduld, mein Schatz."
(Thus, reading Valéry the other evening
And seeming to recall a Rilke version of "Palme,"
That sunlit paradigm whereby the tree
Taps a sweet wellspring of authority,
The hour came back. Patience dans l'azur.
Geduld im. . . Himmelblau? Mademoiselle.)

James Merrill
photo:: neon.tambourine

http://www.jeremygregg.com/quotes/jamesmerrill/lost%20in%20translation.htm

little games

2009-12-01T15:37:00.001-08:00

We're playing (card) games
Till some dawn
We're playing heart games
Please, please, please, please play along

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6wlEwPthQA

wind

2009-11-30T13:51:00.000-08:00

video::liekeroomijs

embrace

2009-11-27T10:59:00.001-08:00

en+dear+ing

2009-11-27T10:36:00.000-08:00







in a world where you are possible
my love
nothing can go wrong for us, tell me

From The Collected Poems of Frank O'Hara

:::yours:::mine:::

2009-11-27T09:03:00.000-08:00

A hunched grey shape
framed by leaves
with lake water behind
standing on our
little point of land
like a small monk
in a green monastery
meditating

almost sculpture
except that it's alive
brooding immobile permanent
for half an hour
a blue heron
and it occurs to me
that if I were to die at this moment
that picture would accompany me
wherever I am going
for part of the way

photo: Dorothee Smith
poem:The Last Picture in the World, Al Purdy From: Beyond Remembering - The collected poems of Al Purdy 2000.

thanks A.

to bed

2009-11-25T15:58:00.001-08:00

We must to bed
kind to bed
kindly go to bed now
we must go to bed now
Please will you get in the bed
I'm in bed now and want you
with me in the bed now
Where are you oh you're in
bed now if I go to bed
you'll be there too
and that would be
the kindest thing
to the bed now
to bed

poem:: Lee Ann Brown

american surfaces

2009-11-23T03:22:00.001-08:00

photo:: Stephen Shore

∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵∴ ∵

2009-11-21T09:22:00.001-08:00

∵ 宙美：：：視覺的聽診器想要的是

in istanbul

2009-11-19T16:31:00.001-08:00

photo:: Tamara i Tatjana Suskic

2009-11-15T14:24:00.000-08:00

Each time my heart is broken it makes me feel more adventurous (and how the same names keep recurring on that interminable list!), but one of these days there’ll be nothing left with which to venture forth.

Why should I share you? Why don’t you get rid of someone else for a change?

I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love.

Even trees understand me! Good heavens, I lie under them, too, don’t I? I’m just like a pile of leaves.

frank o'hara

in your car

2009-11-14T10:05:00.001-08:00

clemence de limburg

2009-11-11T10:07:00.001-08:00

photo:: mariko ogawa

always for the first time

2009-11-01T05:05:00.000-08:00

Always for the first time
Hardly do I know you by sight
You return at some hour of the night to a house at an angle to my window
A wholly imaginary house
It is there that from one second to the next
In the inviolate darkness
I anticipate once more the fascinating rift occurring
The one and only rift
In the facade and in my heart
The closer I come to you
In reality
The more the key sings at the door of the unknown room
Where you appear alone before me
At first you coalesce entirely with the brightness
The elusive angle of a curtain
It's a field of jasmine I gazed upon at dawn on a road in the vicinity of Grasse
With the diagonal slant of its girls picking
Behind them the dark falling wing of the plants stripped bare
Before them a T-square of dazzling light
The curtain invisibly raised
In a frenzy all the flowers swarm back in
It is you at grips with that too long hour never dim enough until sleep
You as though you could be
The same except that I shall perhaps never meet you
You pretend not to know I am watching you
Marvelously I am no longer sure you know
You idleness brings tears to my eyes
A swarm of interpretations surrounds each of your gestures
It's a honeydew hunt
There are rocking chairs on a deck there are branches that may well scratch you in the forest
There are in a shop window in the rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette
Two lovely crossed legs caught in long stockings
Flaring out in the center of a great white clover
There is a silken ladder rolled out over the ivy
There is
By my leaning over the precipice
Of your presence and your absence in hopeless fusion
My finding the secret
Of loving you
Always for the first time

poem::Andre Breton
photo:: charlie engman

boys meet girls

2009-10-29T06:19:00.001-07:00

c'est moi

2009-10-29T06:16:00.000-07:00

++Alphaville++

2009-10-28T14:06:00.000-07:00

Ursulan Uni from jaakko ghostbuster on Vimeo.

Koumiko

2009-10-26T06:59:00.000-07:00

Marker studies a young Japanese woman, wandering about Tokyo during the 1964 Olympic games, asking her questions about how she feels about herself and the world.

The Koumiko Mystery (Chris Marker, 1965)

nobody wants to play with Him

2009-10-19T05:06:00.000-07:00

werner herzog, 1976.

indecent suggestion

2009-10-18T14:35:00.000-07:00

photo::bob renno

nicholas, you are beautiful

2009-10-12T14:05:00.000-07:00

photo:: nicholas haggard

sisters

2009-10-07T09:03:00.001-07:00

gde ideš? u more gde si ti umislila da ideš? utrljavamo sapun sunce nam obasjava kauč tog dana si se sunčao ja sam ti blokirala sunce tvoje ukočeno lice na njemu se odigravao ples i gozba naizmenicno - kada? - sutra ovde se vidi tvoja uobrazilja lepo se vidi ovde se vidi tvoja senilnost lepo se vidi ti samu sebe štipaš a ti? u nepoznatom gradu u nepoznatoj dolini na nepoznatoj kuli u debelom hladu svršio si tiho primaš bukete sa datumima i poreklom vratiću se! a sad si nas rasplakala kao što to često radiš (patetično-životna stvar) htela si da mi iščupaš ruku ti si kućna biljka duh kućne biljke sva crvena u licu i još crvenija na osunčanom stepeništu tako je toplo zamišljamo travnjak sa nepravilno rasporedjenim prskalicama tvoja mokra košulja je cvetna divljina tvoja mokra košulja tvoja lepršava košulja tako je, bili smo u pećini Ali to je bila špilja i šta još hoćeš htela si da ih preslikaš tu teksturu i taj kolor i tu izvanživotnu likovnost (lavova) ali ne može ali ti si mislila da može i zbog toga divljaš htela si da ih preslikaš ali ne možeš tvoja tufnasta je sad zamenjena havajskom prizorima iz ostvskog zivota dogadjaj se pretvorio u žgoljavu kućnu palmu autobusi su mi bežali ispred nosa tražila mu je pare za noćni autobus on joj je kupio kartu ali ona je sedela u krilu drugog muškarca I dobro je izgledao na stenama sunčao se dugo i uporno stomak joj je bio izgreban od hrapavog plićaka dva dana posle toga nosila je pundju na sred glave posle toga kosa joj je bila kao vuna mislila sam da ću umreti sama (onda sam srela Sema vozio je bicikl oko fontane ja sam držala mrtvog zeca) promenio si se često sam te zamisljao samu za trpezarijskim stolom jedeš jedeš tešku hranu ponekad ti je oko izgubljeno debeli tepisi i predmeti od stakla psi se valjaju oko tebe na debelim tepisima ruše predmete od stakla ruše tvoje predmete od stakla posle toga njena kosa je bila kao vuna ja sam svaka od 18 do 80 soap/autobiographical/porno/ western/confessional/film school/high school/bedroom/docu-drama/ action- adventure/how-to/kung-fu/true crime/ romance i niko nije smeo da progovori dok je punio tišinu tupim udarcima

photo:: tatjana suskic
poem:: tamara suskic

travelling light

2009-09-29T07:57:00.000-07:00

Tindersticks - Travelling Light
by lukassette

releases

2009-09-28T15:17:00.001-07:00

photo:: william eadon

2009-09-28T12:22:00.000-07:00

Bande-annonce 1 Who's That Knocking at My Door ?
by toutlecine

ooo mother

JE or LA

2009-09-25T12:30:00.000-07:00

http://www.babettemangolte.com/encoded/%28now%29_clip1_hi.mov.html

“Going back and forth between observation and sentiment or imagination, the film is a self-portrait of the photographer-filmmaker during the years 1976-1977.” - Babette Mangolte

{cabinet of ciriosities}

2009-09-23T05:29:00.000-07:00

photo:: Tatjana Suskic

for my sweethearts

2009-09-19T05:20:00.000-07:00

Symphony of Sorrowful Songs - Henryk Górecki - 3st movement

nice to meet you yuko ikoma

2009-09-18T12:01:00.000-07:00

On this dry prepared path walk heavy feet.
This is not "dinner music." This is a power structure.
heavy as eyelids.
Beams are laid. The master cuts music for the future.

Sound lays the structure. Sound leaks into the future.

Barbara Guest

Having a Coke with You

2009-09-14T09:58:00.000-07:00

Having a Coke with You

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne

or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona

partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian

partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt

partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches

partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary

it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still

as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it

in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth

between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint

you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look

at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world

except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick

which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time

and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism

just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or

at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me

and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them

when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank

or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully

as the horse

it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience

which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I’m telling you about it

by Frank O'Hara

summer bits and pieces

2009-09-13T04:36:00.000-07:00

photos are taken by :: Tamara and Tatjana Suskic

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2009-09-12T09:48:00.001-07:00

feed me with your kiss

2009-09-02T06:43:00.000-07:00

Yeah, what you see
But you can't have what you can't

Hey, what's come down over me
It's the way you stood

'Cause things the way they are
I guess you might go real far
So feed me with your kiss

Oh, come lie down close to me
Do what you dare
Oh I don't care

I will get what I can see
I'll crawl over there

(Spread me like a) (appeal to you)
I do what I do I do what I will do

Crave, your kiss will set you free
I'll do what I should

le ravissement

2009-08-31T05:09:00.000-07:00

I'll make coffee and then do the dishes
from early morning till late at night
and in this decor not befitting dreams
in my mind I can still see them coming in
they were walking hand in hand
timid and tiny
with the delighted look of two cherubs
their eyes gave away
what they felt inside
they sought a place to love each other
I still remember how they looked at each other
how they seemed caught up in tenderness
in that hotel room with faded wallpaper
and when I closed the door in the hall
I could still see that tender glow
inside me there was a deep sadness.

I'll make coffee and then do the dishes
from early morning till late at night
and in this decor not befitting dreams
they slipped away together
hand in hand they went to the other side
quiet in their happiness they were secure
I remember it well

I'll make coffee and then do the dishes
from early morning till late at night
and in this decor not befitting dreams
they will never enter their room again

messengers of memory

2009-08-31T04:48:00.000-07:00

la chambre, (chantal akerman),
by zohilof

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Chantal Akerman

she didn't mean to do it

2009-08-25T11:01:00.000-07:00

Oh, she was sad, oh, she was sad.
She didn't mean to do it.

Certain thrills stay tucked in your limbs,
go no further than your fingers, move your legs through their paces,
but no more. Certain thrills knock you flat
on your sheets on your bed in your room and you fade
and they fade. You falter and they're gone, gone, gone.
Certain thrills puff off you like smoke rings,
some like bell rings growing out, out, turning
brass, steel, gold, till the whole world's filled
with the gonging of your thrills.

But oh, she was sad, she was just sad, sad,
and she didn't mean to do it.

Angst

2009-08-24T16:44:00.000-07:00

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2009-08-24T10:49:00.001-07:00

2009-08-21T04:45:00.001-07:00

This film is evidently a reworking of Robbe-Grillet's previous film L' Éden et après, using alternate takes and re-editing that has the order of scenes to be governed by 'a throw of the dice' (shown in new footage).

Directed by::Alain Robbe-Grillet
Writers Alain Robbe-Grillet

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F For Fake

2009-08-19T05:23:00.000-07:00

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moonmilk

2009-08-16T08:27:00.001-07:00

photo:: Ryan McGinley