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Alexis Anne makes collages from collections of images saved for years, "They create themselves through a process beginning with a loose concept, followed by a series of trials and errors, subtle maneuvers, selection/elimination, harmonious unions, and happy accidents."... You can read in her site that her intentions with her work is "to portray the world as a flawed thing of beauty - a place that shines brightly, but has a dark side to match."
For this show, I wanted to move in a different direction aesthetically and create work inspired by early-mid 20th century surrealist work, with a tinge of Pop. I also was interested in the challenges of integrating text into art, something I believe is difficult to do well in visual art. Last but not least I wanted to create work that is less about a direct narrative and more about the subconscious, and how we operate in the social and environmental worlds around us.
The phrases in these collages are multi-tiered and double-sided; intended to reflect a sort of personal and societal inertia of mind and lifestyle, both in the sense of being frozen, and moving too fast in a direction to change course. I wanted them to be about states of mind and being, in terms of personal and global events; things that happen on a day-to-day basis and things that happen over the courses of our lives. They’re about the decisions we make, and the twists of fate we encounter. They are intended to reflect the multifaceted moments of joy and anxiety, nostalgia and anticipation, which are part of being alive. I wanted them to be open to interpretation as either uplifting, or melancholy.
Disguising these messages as strangely grafted, twisted plantlife works for me in the sense that, the themes I’m addressing are composed of so many different elements; moments, feelings, and phases of life will shift, grow, die, be confusing, complicated, intangible, and difficult to put into words, along with our memories of them and the events connected to them. Creating the phrases as landscapes, or specimens of wildlife, was sort of like isolating an aspect of our internal environments.
I see them essentially as simulacrum of things that sometimes have no real shape.
Rad & Cal in Puerto Rico!!( like an as seen on TV commercial). The heartrhob duo from
Amazing detailing from the label Coven at Rio 2010 FW. It's a collection that merits to be
"She's an architectural designer, not a dressmaker, seeing clothes as housing the body.
"A snail has the shell, which is its house and clothes at the same time. Besides, the whole clothes creation process also considers volumetry, space, technology, planning, drawing and construction," she says by way
of translator.
The latest collection for the next northern winter has elements of the recent Balmain collection - all dripping metals, shorts skirts and fabric drapes. The gold knits bring back the gold Burberry jumper of a couple of seasons ago with it's embellished shoulders and looping lanyards and cords. Shoulders as a feature, metallics and khaki are just not going away for a while, not that there's any complaints here."
On the journal Nature Physics, a recent article says that oceans of liquid diamonds,
Beautiful words written by Charlie Finch, via twogolddustwomen
THE PROBLEM OF THE MUSE
by Charlie Finch
Edie Sedgwick stands out amidst a long line of modern muses such as Jane Avril, Dora Maar, Ruth Kligman, Ilona Staller and Dash Snow. Edie is the problem of the muse: a figure one wants so to behold but never to be. The fascination with her since her death in 1971, at the age of 28, has never abated. Her friend, filmmaker David Weisman, in his book Edie: Girl on Fire (Chronicle Books, co-authored with Melissa Painter), describes going before a film class at USC in 1998, prepared to talk about his award-winning film Kiss of the Spider Woman, and being stunned when the students only wished to know, "What was Edie like?"
The answer has been sought in Jean Stein and George Plimpton’s bestseller Edie, in Sienna Miller’s erotic portrayal in the new film Factory Girl, in David Bourdon’s Warhol and in Weisman’s film of Edie’s last years Ciao Manhattan, memorably filmed in the bottom of an empty swimming pool. Edie’s appeal lies in the simple fact that being a muse is the road to ruin, a doctorate in destruction of self worthy of Artaud. In a CD included in Edie: Girl on Fire, she matter-of-factly steps outside her myth, deconstructing and destroying it.
Those who associate Edie with giggly girlishness will be amazed at her patrician voice, full of Brahminesque authority. She offhandedly dismisses the fashion world by saying that her twice-a-day New York workouts during the ‘60s compelled her to wear a leotard all day. When she added a shirt, "Vogue" noticed and a style erupted.
Edie remembers her father convincing her that a police car was really an ambulance, before it hauled her off to one of a string of nuthouses, while her authoritarian Dad trailed her in a limousine. She dismisses the Warhol crowd, characteristically, as "faggots," and explains that the suicides of two of her brothers drove her into the silver fog of the Factory, because "at that time I wasn’t much interested in sex anyway."
Masochistic memories of Herculean drug use tickle her fancy, as her prescription for getting off a parentally imposed Nembutal habit by "shooting myself up with speed every two hours to break myself apart." Throughout the Girl on Fire CD, Edie sounds about 50 years old, even though she was 27 at the time, but, in typical muse fashion, her general air is that she regrets nothing. In a Christ-like manner, Edie conveys the sense that the ultimate form of selfishness is to give your persona to others to the point of self-destruction.
There are clinical names for such behavior but not for the thousands of us who worship her transcendentally photogenic image still. So we will give Edie, as eternal muse, the coda, "I’d like to turn the whole world on just for a moment. Just for a moment." The life ends and the moment goes on. Such is the calling of the muse.
I no longer love your mouth. I no
longer love your eyes. I no longer
love your eyes. I no longer love the
color of your sweaters. I no longer
love it. I no longer love the color of
your sweaters. I no longer love the
way you hold your pans and pencils.
I no longer love it. Your mouth.
Your eyes. The way you hold your
pens and pencils. I no longer love it.
I no longer love it.