I’ve been threatening to do this for a good long while, but now it seems to be actually happening. By “this”, I mean my blog of unpopular opinions. The first post will explain the commenting policy, which I’m certain everyone will loathe. I will also be making a call for submissions very, very soon.
I’m really excited about this, and others seem to be too, which fills me with pretty much equal parts dread and delight. I’m an opinionated monster, but don’t much like conflict which I realize is a fairly toxic combination. So be it. My contrary odes to culture, art and society are imminent. More, of course, to follow.
This weekend sees the opening of the Crest Hardware Art Show in Williamsburg. Sponsored by and situated in the Crest Hardware store, the show features works constructed from items commonly found in - you guessed it! - a hardware store.
The show kicks off tomorrow with the Crest Fest which will feature bands, DJs, beer and a sale of works by local artists. The proceeds will benefit the City Reliquary.
See at left this charming octopus made by Jude Ferencz. When I went and looked up the photo credit, I was happy to see the picture was taken by friend of The Cabinet, Theo Coloumbe of the Brooklyn Photo Studio. You can see more works from the exhibit here.
They are located here. In fact, it would really be beyond convenient to stop by this fest and then just run down the block and see a few offerings in The Brick's Comic Book Theater Festival (which I can't link to directly because of some egregious Flash usage, so facebook it is).
I just discovered the remarkable picture archive belonging to the Réunion des Musées Nationaux. I (unsurprisingly) searched the term "mollusca", and the following are a few of the images of the incredibly charismatic (but shy) Argonaut Octopus I found.
The above painting is of the female Argonaut Octopus. Painted in 1839 by one Mrs. Jeannette Power.
The above is by an unknown artist from the 1551 book, "L'Histoire naturelle des estranges poissons marins"
I feel as if I'm in danger of falling into an internet wormhole with this collection, emerging days later gibbering nonsense, gassy-eyed and unshowered.
In talking about photography, I most often say that I like pictures of people. And mostly, the same goes for paintings. But, as in most things, there are oftentimes exceptions and the photographs of Lori Nix are a huge one. I was first introduced to her work via a facebook link posted by the always interesting Artistic Director of Art House. I was instantly intrigued and spent a lot of time with them.
There aren't any people in them at all, and Nix has said in interviews that one of her great influences are the Hudson River School of landscape painters and, in a way, it shows. When I first saw her photographs I couldn't quite figure out what I was looking at. They were from her series "The City", in which we see strange, long abandoned urban scenes in which trees and other foliage have grown back. I didn't understand where they were taken, or how she found these remarkable scenes to photograph.
Lori Nix's wonderful settings aren't found, they are made. She creates them herself, on tabletops. She then lights them and doesn't use any digital manipulation at all. They are perfect and melancholy and exquisite. There are landscapes and interiors and insects. She shares some of my personal obsessions, as do many of the artists I feature here - the conflict between the natural world and the structures of men; museums and toy theaters of all sorts.
I both want to know how she makes everything and I don't. Am I the only one who wants her to branch out into animation? Maybe I'm wrong, maybe the power of her images comes from their silence and stillness. Qualities rare indeed in our noisy and over-stimulated world.
All photographs are the property of Lori Nix. If you are interested in purchasing her work, contact ClampArt. (Pssst: Wealthy admirers, I have birthday coming up, you know)
Learning how to cook more things has been on my agenda for quite some time. I really enjoy food and my culinary repertoire is somewhat limited, so I've been on the lookout for recipes I can try.
I've said elsewhere that I have no trouble eating meat, but I will not eat anything with tentacles. Maybe I spoke too soon!
Yes, citizens of Gotham - the day has finally come.
Guerrilla knitter, Deadly Knitshade has struck our fair city. The result? Squid. Yes, you heard correctly - squid knit of orange yarn are hanging from some of our most storied skyscrapers.
I've covered the work of this particular band of rogues who strike seemingly at random across their native London in a previous post. But now... their most notorious, needle bearing member is Yarnstorminghere.
My fascination with squid and octopus and all the members of the illustrious Class of Cephalopoda (Phylum: Mollusca, Kingdom: Animalia) began almost ten years ago as I worked on what I referred to as my 9/11 play. It remains unfinished and is likely unfinishable. I called it Tricks With Make-Up and it is set in a barroom in which all surfaces are obscured by a dull gray ash. Whether it is purgatory or some kind of post-apocalyptic liminal neverland, remains unclear. In it, a Bird, a Killer, a Spy, a Victim, The Last Leopard and The Second To Last Leopard (Felidae Panthera Pardus) enact various power plays. Bird, in particular, is a monstrous, Stalin-like figure (in her home forrest, she sports the title "Chairmistress of Freedom, Animality and Discipline").
But it was a mess. A Frankensteinian creature created from pieces of other projects, ruminations on Jack the Ripper, reading I'd done on animal behavior and the deep, strange nihilism I felt after the fall of the towers which engendered a certainty in me that the human species was a complete failure in evolutionary terms. And I had an equally crazy design concept. I thought there should be a giant, animatronic squid suspended from the ceiling with enormous tentacles that wrapped around the audience. During the play, the tentacles would move with a barely perceptible slowness, the audience unaware of what was happening until the tentacles were everywhere, trapping them in their seats.
Now, I realized that the the chances of this design concept coming to fruition were, to say the least, low. But in preparation for the momentous day when my most extravagant dreams could become perfectly realized, I started researching squid and the other members of the family cephalopoda and became, in a word, obsessed. Giant Squid seemed more like creatures from the imagination of a 19th century fantasist, rather than something that could actually, you know, exist. Where we have water in our bodies, they have ammonia. Their espophogus bisects their brains. They possess a starting and uncanny intelligence. They use tools. Octopuses are prone to nervous upset and have been known to start eating their own arms. They are beautiful and other-worldly. They are nearly all venemous to one degree or another. They are beaked. There may be even larger, completely undiscovered squid that live in the deepest, most unknown parts of the ocean (some electrical pings indicate that this is not fantasy).
I joined all the squid list serves, I read all the latest scientific findings. They are amazing. I think one of my fascinations with these remarkable creatures is that they are nothing like us. They are completely, to their core, other-worldly and unknowable. Chimps and Bonobos are near relatives; dogs and humans have co-existed for millions of years and likely evolved symbiotically (for example, humans exhibit dog-like pack behavior that doesn't occur in other primates); dolphins, if fish shaped, are fellow mammals, and seem at least somewhat willing to interact with us. But with the clever cephalopod, we have no common language of any kind. Any attempts to get through have been met with a blank wall of nothing.
In our depictions of the residents of other planets, we most often have dreamed up humanoid creatures. Even if they were hostile, we could still interact. And if they were utterly unhuman (like Aunt Beast in a Wrinkle in Time) we could still breach the difference through touch or sound or something. Thus far, there has been no cephalopodean Rosetta Stone of any sort. To be honest, I don't know if I want one.
But I'm an artist, not a scientist.
My BFF sent this to me yesterday, a gorgeous film of a Dumbo Octopus. You can watch it here, as Blogger is being all fiddly and will not upload it.
I've been in a shockingly acquisitive mood lately, so I've been indulging my hobby of internet window shopping. One just winds up unsatisfied, with nothing but increased longings. Below is exhibit "A". It is a pink tentacle scarf. I think I should own it.
Here at The Cabinet, we are also in need of a bath mat. I understand a reasonable solution would be to just go to the store and, like, buy one. Instead, I am obsessively searching for the best bath mat. Most of them are so pedestrian. BUT, then I discovered bath mat Nirvana, in the form of ekra's Etsy store. Unfortunately, they are a bit pricey. But look!
Then i made the colossal error of visiting the John Fluevog website in search of replacement parts for a pair of shoes I need to get repaired. And I discovered these:
On Monday, a gallery of Cthuhlu-themed cakes was featured on Great White Snark. Sadly, with the exception of the one with the tentacles breaking through the icing, (which is nicely rendered, if unappetizing), they are pretty Cake Wreck-y. So, I decided to take the bull by the horns, er- the squid by the beak, and seek out some more thrilling versions of cephalopod cake art. My search was long and arduous: I typed the phrase "squid cake" (with quotation marks) into Google and scrolled through more than four pages of results. I suffered so you wouldn't have to.
This is what I found.
Found here. This is now one of my favorite flickr photos.
The above restrained and tasteful squidcake was created by the obviously very talented Glenn the Baker.
Though both of the cakes pictured above are quite lovely, I am sure you have noticed a most disturbing squidcake trend. Like current studio made motion pictures, squidcakes have succumbed to the scourge of Teal and Orange. We can only pray for the state of cake-dom, as we know that Teal and Orange is horribly contagious.
This, however, is a thing of pure wonder. I'm having trouble finding a source for it - if anyone knows who this remarkable squidcake artist is - please let me know so that I can credit them properly.
The above squidcake, aptly titled "Squid Vs. Octopus" is clearly the most narratively complex of all the cakes I've featured. I found it on sockstealingnome's deviantart page. It's pretty much all charm.
The one thing I discovered in this little expedition is that quality squid cakes are few and far between (I also discovered many cakes made of squid, but the less said about that the better). There are many subpar squidcakes, which are just - sad. Hold out for quality, I say!
In completely unrelated news - 122 shopping days until my birthday!
The world is such a strange and exciting place, and once in a while one happens across something one didn't know existed - but upon further reflection, one realizes that in a world as varied as ours, nearly everything must exist somewhere. What I am talking about today are knit sea creatures. Created by graffiti knitters.
A mysterious internet (interknit? Okay, okay. I'm tired, it's late, so I punned) knitting presence called Deadly Knitshade created an 8 meter long knitted squid made entirely from plastic bags. I've been sleepily trying to piece together this story, and what I thought at first would just be a brief squid mention is clearly far more wide-ranging. First, see Plarchie the knitted squid, with his new friend Charles Darwin:
But then I discover there's a whole slew of these mysterious knitters. They even have a self-titled book called Knit the City out next month (tragically, only in German). From Knit the City's website:
Knit the City have an ongoing mission to guerilla knit the city of London, and beyond that the world, and bring the art of the sneaky stitch to a world without wool.
They create what they call Yarnstorms, essentially guerilla art happenings centered around work they have knit. It's awesome. Plarchie was a part of Yarnstorm the Eleventh: Stitched Sealife Escapees, created for the London Museum of Natural History. Previous Yarnstorms have included Plunder of Pirates and Gate of Ghouls. They release their creations into the wild, and people take them, which they say is okay with them. In addition to Deadly Knitshade, their corp includes: Lady Loop, Shorn-a the Dead and The Fastener (a name that makes me laugh every time I read it), and they are quick to remind people that if they become obstreperous, they have pointy sticks.
According to their facebook page, there will be a new Yarnstorm pretty much any minute. So, all my London readers should keep their eyes open. Who knows where they will strike next?
For lots more information about Knit the City go here. The photo above belongs to Deadly Knitshade.
This weather has been awful. But the upside is, it has brought us this delightful Octopus made of snow in the cemetery of St. Mark's Church in the East Village.
Here in Brooklyn, snow furniture was spotted. The mercury is supposed to rise to 36 degrees today, so these ephemeral pieces of art will soon be reduced to slush.
One of the more delightful things about having a blog is that people send you stuff. Books, press tickets, what have you. But one of my favorite things to be sent are links or pictures. I once, in this very space, described my over-riding theory of interior decoration to be something like, "Dear God, please don't let me turn into the Collyer brothers.". But, realistically, I'm not within a million miles of being a Collyer. Really. I've seen Hoarders (but, honestly, I find it too upsetting to watch).
One day, if I am a multi-millionaire, I would like to have one of those mansions that is large enough to have theme rooms. Unsurprisingly, I would like one of these rooms to have the look of something one would find under the sea. If one was living in a nineteenth century comic book. My BFF recently steered me toward the work of artist Adam Wallacavage. Primarily a photographer, he also creates octopus chandeliers. Needless to say, I want one. Or two. I covet an Adam Wallacavage octopus chandelier with a passion that nearly frightens me.
If you wish to purchase me an Octopus Chandelier, Adam Wallacavage is represented by the Jonathan Levine Gallery in New York City. All photos belong to the artst.
Spanish artist Máximo Rivera is currently at work on an Animal Chair project that looks extremely interesting. Currently, the only completed work (or at least the only one available for viewing on his website, if his Octopus Chair. He will also, at some point, complete Rhino, Lion, Bettle, Whale and Walrus chairs. To be clear, this is Art, not Interior Design, so this will not (sadly) be mass produced. I'm actually of two minds. In some ways it's absolutely extraordinary work, but... it's a little ugly, isn't it? But that's okay, right?
Just think how incredible it would be if the tentacles were silently mechanized. One would be quietly sitting, reading the newspaper, or drinking a cup of coffee. Or maybe taking a nap. You wouldn't hear anything. Until...
Back in the first decades of film one of the earliest and most popular forms of movie watching was the serial. One might think that this is a form of entertainment, with its heroines in peril and its Mings being ever so merciless, that has so thoroughly fallen out of favor that not even a glimmer still exists. Of course, that would be total nonsense, as the form is alive and well in what we now refer to as "television shows". The venue has changed, but the form has not.
Our modern age has an awful lot to answer for, but truly, one of its greatest wonders is the internet, where everything imaginable is sure to exist someplace (Just like the world! But with a better search engine!). Recently, I came across the Serial Squadron (Academy of Cliffhanger Arts and Sciences), whose raison d'être is the movie serial. They restore and make available on DVD movie serials that have not been seen in decades. One of their projected titles is The Trail of the Octopus from 1919. Cephalopod fascination aside, I am dying to see this film. It's described as a "Serial Noir" in 15 parts and has a plot that concerns Ancient Egypt, explorers, a Devil cult, crime, and sorcery. Essentially, it's pulp nirvana. The only known copy is owned by the Library of Congress (unfortunately, the 9th chapter is missing and not even a summary exists), and it's from this that the Squad is making the transfer. It's been screened publicly exactly once in the past 90 years. This is very, very exciting stuff, they have a projected release date of Spring 2011 contingent on people pledging to buy. They have a teaser up on YouTube:
Of particular interest to me is their Beatrice Fairfax collection. One of the chapters of Volume 2 includes the film debut of Olive Thomas, legendary Ziegfield Girl, art model and starlet. The film was shot in Ithaca, NY and Olive was at the peak of her Follies derived fame. Wonderfully, the Serial Squad has posted her chapter (heavily edited) on YouTube, and it's something of a revelation. Until they did so, the only film of Olive available to the public was one of her last features, The Flapper. In 1920, Olive's Irish good looks were already fading: she drank, smoked, drugged and partied like a champ. And like certain modern starlets in their mid 20s, she looked pretty rough. In 1916, however, she was gorgeous.
It's also telling that in her very first film appearance, she debuted as a star. The role itself isn't hugely demanding, she mostly has to play the pretty girl everyone is in love with and the plot revolves around, but as in her subsequent film, she is very, very natural and easy in front of the camera. For those that are more interested in baseball than chorus girls, footage of the actual New York Giants and Yankees playing at the Polo Grounds is on the DVD (Olive's boyfriend in the story is a baseball player). William Randolph Hearst has a cameo in episode 1, but sadly, the footage has been lost.
See Olive below:
You can find a list of all Serial Squadron titles here. As they take some pains to explain on their website, they are a small concern who are clearly doing this out of love, and Bless them for it!
I've been awfully full of "Bah Humbug!" this holiday season. I was sick for weeks, and now my poor inamorato has seemingly caught the bug. But, after all, as Fuzzy Bastard reminded me this afternoon, December 22 is the happiest day of the year. In addition to being my brother's birthday, it is also Cephalopodmas.
There are many wonderful ways to celebrate the season (none of which include Calamari or any sort of dipping sauce). One of the best is to sing Cephalopodmas Carols, such as the following, courtesy, cephalopodmas.com and penned by Caitlin Kiernan:
On the first day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the second day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the third day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the fourth day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Four snapping beaks, Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the fifth day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Grimpoteuthis, Four snapping beaks, Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the sixth day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Six arms a-flaying, Grimpoteuthis, Four snapping beaks, Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the seventh day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Seven photophores a-flashing, Six arms a-flaying, Grimpoteuthis, Four snapping beaks, Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the eigth day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Vampyroteuthis infernalis, Seven photophores a-flashing, Six arms a-flaying, Grimpoteuthis, Four snapping beaks, Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the ninth day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Nine tentacles strangling, Vampyroteuthis infernalis, Seven photophores a-flashing, Six arms a-flaying, Grimpoteuthis, Four snapping beaks, Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the tenth day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Ten ammonites, Nine tentacles strangling, Vampyroteuthis infernalis, Seven photophores a-flashing, Six arms a-flaying, Grimpoteuthis, Four snapping beaks, Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the eleventh day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Eleven Architeuthis, Ten ammonites, Nine tentacles strangling, Vampyroteuthis infernalis, Seven photophores a-flashing, Six arms a-flaying, Grimpoteuthis, Four snapping beaks, Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the twelfth day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Twelve inks sacs squirting, Eleven Architeuthis, Ten ammonites, Nine tentacles strangling, Vampyroteuthis infernalis, Seven photophores a-flashing, Six arms a-flaying, Grimpoteuthis, Four snapping beaks, Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
On the thirteenth day of Cephalopodmas, Cthulhu gave to me Thirteen Hapalochlaena, Twelve ink sacs squirting, Eleven Architeuthis, Ten ammonites, Nine tentacles strangling, Vampyroteuthis infernalis, Seven photophores a-flashing, Six arms a-flaying, Grimpoteuthis, Four snapping beaks, Three suckers, Two cuttlefish, And Histioteuthis heteropsis.
Or, you might want to indulge in some cephalopod themed art. In which case, you are in luck! The image above is by artist Justina Kochansky. In addition to her website, she also sells prints on Etsy. She's created these charming little squid-scape comics that, really, anybody would want hanging on their wall. In keeping with the winter theme, below is her piece Snow Day:
Okay. I don't play video games. Really. Aside from like a hidden object game in a spooky castle when I have the flu or something, it's just not something I do. Anything that happens in real time makes me super stressed out and unhappy. I'm a born planner. I loathe surprises. Please note: I am working on this.
So, we've established that video games are emphatically not on our beat here at the Cabinet.
But...
Octopuses are part of what this blog is all about. Here's a trailer from a video game (I am so video game illiterate that I wasn't aware that video games had trailers until this appeared on my facebook wall this morning). It's called Octodad, about a father who is also secretly an octopus, and it's just the most charming thing I've seen in a long time. It's indie. It's free. And (fie!) PC only. The tag line is: Loving father. Caring husband. Secret octopus. Download it here. Fuzzy Bastard said it best: PC only, but still it's good to see someone drawing attention to this important issue.
Sad news hit my inbox this morning as I discovered that Paul, the octopus who predicted the outcome of all the World Cup games has shrugged off this mortal coil. According to Sea Life aquarium in Germany (where Paul resided until his untimely demise) he died of natural causes.
Hm. I wonder if a cephalopod necropsy has been performed. In case you have forgotten, after Paul successfully predicted to outcome of the Wold Cup final, there were threats to his life from disgruntled soccer fans. It was suggested that a proper place for Paul was to be deep fried and placed on a platter next to a bowl of dipping sauce, that is to say, that he should be made into calamari. I think a call for an investigation is in order. Was it a mob hit? Disgruntled supporters of the Netherland's football team? We won't know until this is properly looked into, but all suggestions (in my imagination) to do so have been ignored!
I smell foul play!
BREAKING: I am not the only Paul conspiracy theorist! See today's Guardian.
I don't do much in the way of fashion coverage for the same reason I don't write much about food: so many other people do it much better than I ever could.
That said, I fully consider monkeys and cephalopods to be firmly on my beat - which brings me to the Prada 2011 s/s collection that debuted the other day in Milan. Now, as fashion is far from my usual subject around these parts, I understand that many of my readers will likely need maybe a tiny bit of background. The Prada family has owned a leather goods company in Italy since early in the 20th century. In 1978, current owner and family scion, MiucciaPrada inherited the family business. In one of those happy accidents, Ms. Prada turned out to be something of a visionary, turning her small, family run luggage business, into a fashion empire. Much like Coco Chanel in the 1920s, Christian Dior in the post-war years, and Yves Saint Laurent in the 60s and 70s, she managed to essentially change how women looked and dressed. Her clothing is relentlessly creative and interesting, ludicrously expensive and she is one of the very, very few designers currently working who pretty consistently comes up with stuff that can be called "new". Like anyone who is willing to take risks, she occasionally comes up with designs that seem, well, inexplicable. See the current 2011 spring/summer collection in which she references Baroque art and Josephine Baker. Sometimes printed on what look like hospital scrubs. See below:
And then my favorite - a sundress with a stylized illustration of Josephine Baker printed on it, but instead of bananas around her waist, there is an octopus.
MiucciaPrada has always been interesting to me because her designs seem to take the male gaze into pretty much zero consideration. Her clothes are often referred to as "intellectual", by which people mean "not sexy". And by and large, they aren't. It is often said about her designs that women love them and men don't get them, which is a vast over-simplification, but not entirely off base. Her house is very new, debuting its first ready-to-wear line in 1989. And she had a slide installed in her office which she uses to access to floor below.
As many of you may have noticed, there was an unfortunate lack of posting yesterday. I've really been making a valiant effort to put at least something up every day. I have a long, meaty post about the greatness and perfect structure of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in the works (don't mock. my post is very, very scholarly). And I was planning to put up some artwork today.
But, here's the thing.
It's gorgeously, finally, inexplicably beautiful out, and I have to go to the art store, spend some time outside of my blogging girl cave, and then get home in time to get all pretty for an event tonight that I'm being escorted to by the ever dashing inamorato. So. Yeah. Several hours in front of photoshop is simply not going to happen.
I recently discovered due to the valiant efforts of the obsessive people over at Cute Overload, that something called a piglet squid exists. Here is a photo of a baby piglet squid:
Now, the piglet squid is both charming and mysteriious. Their habitat is in the near darkness of the mesopelagic zone (delightfully, also referred to as the twilight zone). Some of their neighbors are fluorescent, though the piglet squid is not. Very little is known about this adorable little squid. Below, is the equally charming adult:
You know, I have a stack of Netflix movies just staring at me from the top of the TV making me feel guilty. Maybe I'll watch one this morning. Or, like, not. I think I want more coffee.
Last night I saw a 1933 musical at Film Forum called Moonlight and Pretzels that was directed (sort of shockingly incompetently)by legendary cinematographer Karl Freund. B musicals are always a good time.
Oh, look. I thought it was going to rain today, but it looks really nice out. I'll probably sit around the park drawing things and reading. I'm about 50 pages into Martha Peake by Patrick McGrath. I'm loving it so far. I've read pretty much all his other books - he does modern gothic pretty much better than anyone. It's so funny as he had the most gothic upbringing of any modern writer. He was raised on the grounds of Broadmoor (the hospital in England for the criminally insane)where his father was a doctor.
I am a writer, director & illustrator living in Brooklyn. I have drawn many pictures, written many plays, one of which, Antarctica, has been published as a part of the Plays & Playwrights 2008 anthology. Much of my illustration and art can be viewed here: http://cavigliascabinet.tumblr.com
The vast majority of the images in this blog have been created by and are owned by me. If you would like post any of them on your site or for any other purpose, please contact me via the comments or via facebook (link to my profile is above). Thanks and enjoy.
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