"Fashion is so often presented in our culture as a thing of froth, which of course,
it partly is; but the bubbles are blown with such care and a sense of values."
- Anna Wintour

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Friday 31 May 2013

Vis-a-Vis

     

 Continually haunted by the idea that we are wasting our time, our lives, 
we exhaust ourselves in distraction. To one his own,
the more daring the more exhausted

     The need to fuel oneself and the need to empty are one in the same
 and the most pleasant of times seems to be when we care about neither. 

This vicious cycle can be focused in beautiful ways,
yet...by letting it all go, it all gets done. This world seems to be won by those
who let it go, cause when we try and try, this life seems beyond winning.

    





Thursday 23 May 2013

3,6,9




                       "The potency of a photograph comes from looking back to a fleeting 
                                      moment in a floating world"- Allen Ginsberg, 1990












Monday 20 May 2013

We Could Be Anywhere


The quietest places always seems to be the most interesting.

"An Act of thought is an act of art"- Eva Partum

          
          
                       Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful...



   

Number 5

An Exhibit:

     'She has, through a sort of miracle, worked in the world of Fashion following rules that only seemed valid for Painters, Musicians and Poets. She imposed the invisible, she imposed the nobility of silence on social commotion"
   
            Jean Cocteau, "Le Retourde Mademoiselle Chanel". March 1954



      Andy Warhol, 1985. Acrylic and Silkscreen
    
       Portrait of Gabrielle Chanel, 1933. Etienne Adrien Drain

       Pressed Flowers from Gabrielle's Apartment  Paris, France.
   
      Fawn, By Picasso
     

        Chanel Commerical, 1963.
   
 
    @ Palais de Tokyo

 
     In order to irreplaceable, one must always be different.
      Coco, 1974

Wednesday 8 May 2013

Sheltered Spines

I was seated less then a meter away.
She sang her heart out, barefoot. 
On bare concrete. Bare boned.
Broken concrete. Surprisingly warm.


      

The more holes in her shirt the more charming. I counted four.
Playing and plucking and singing.
The evolution of Latin spilled from her voice.
Her pains

    
I'm sure that England was in her heart
     I'm sure that wine ran through her veins    
 

  
     

     and then day breaks..