Please go and check it out! The video is a little wobbly, but I decided to just stick with it.
And if you want to support the project but can’t contribute, please consider blogging, tweeting, or Facebooking it! That would really help a lot too!
I did this a few weeks ago and keep forgetting to post it. It’s part of this series.
I swear, it’s coming soon. Like the second school ends.
…but there’s a picture of Courtney Love nestled next to MOMA/PS1 curator Klaus Biesenbach on CL’s blog:
There are very few things that would make my heart explode into tiny little bits of pure happiness and joy quite as much as the thought of Ms. Love making art. I don’t want to jump to conclusions since I’ve seen little more than that picture; perhaps MOMA is merely shaking her down for money. But I’m just saying that a Courtney Love art show would be pretty fucking amazing. (Especially one called Whose* Sorry Now, but hey, I just pulled that out of nowhere. *sic)
Also, I was going to invite her to be in an exhibition I was invited to be in and then decided against it thinking, Oh, Courtney Love doesn’t make visual art… and now I feel really stupid. But still, this is all speculation on my part. Also, I am well aware that this is now the second CL post in way too soon, so I will stop now.
Every spring I go through this “I want to redecorate my apartment” thing, which is really stupid because I don’t have enough money and/or time to do it. I get itchy every April – school is almost over, but not quite, which means I don’t have time in the studio but I’m on the cusp of having lots and lots of time, and I can’t wait, and it comes out like this.
Naturally, as happens every April, I turned to my evil tormentor, the Bane of My Existence, for “inspiration.” Hello, Restoration Hardware:
Restoration Hardware makes me feel really, really bad about myself. Bad, like: upon launching their site or walking into a store, I feel like I’m being smothered to death in this horrible, quiet way, where no one will ever hear my screams, let alone find my body. It makes me want to douse myself with gasoline and set my skin on fire, because if I’m going to die anyway, at least that’s a death that will attract attention from passersby. Seriously.
The doorman vestibule/waiting rooms of a gazillion expensive new co-ops in Manhattan look like they came right off the pages of a RH catalog, and it’s because you can’t go wrong with it. You see it, and you know you’re in a pricey new building. And honestly, their stuff looks really nice. It’s just that, it’s the absolute same everywhere (people bitch about Starbucks taking over Manhattan, but what about RH completely insidiously taking over all the interiors of the city?).
The other decorating option is that sort of bleached-out “New England” look, where everything is white and “rustic” and sort of preppy but faded. You see pictures of it in shelter magazines, and it’s like the light is just pouring into the space and here are your props for living, but they’re all perfectly clean, perfectly placed, expensive as hell, and look like they’re rusting and rotting, but it a really cute sort of way. And everything is white, white, white. White like a mental institution, white like a hospital. Walk in, and you’ve instantly ruined the scene. I would have a complete nervous breakdown in seconds.
I want to live in a nice place that I love, and that I’m not afraid to bring guests to. But Jesus Christ, I don’t want to live in a place like that.
I’ve been looking at this site Blik and it is the only thing that has cheered me. They have wall stickers — not the cute cherry-blossom-and-sparrow type that seems to have invaded etsy, but weird mutating bone-and-skin-creature things that will actually make me feel inspired rather than smothered.
Meanwhile, now I have to find an area rug that’s not going to bankrupt me but also doesn’t look like it was made for an accountant’s office, and if you have any thoughts about that I’d be really happy to hear them.
I’ve been working on this all weekend… not sure if the pics really capture it at all. It’s just some thoughts about my relationship to feminism.
Here’s the cover:
Inside, it’s an accordion-fold with everything cut out so that it’s very lacey and delicate. They’re doing their laundry and hanging it up to dry on the trees.
I only ordered a fat quarter, but you can bet that a “real” order will be placed very soon.