The Good Stuff

Why is it that we always tend to focus on the bad stuff rather that the good? Why is it so much easier to stir up bad memories? And once we have one spinning around in our head, we somehow feel the need to add on. I never quite understood this masochist behavior. I’ve always given the same advice: try to think positive, there’s no use crying over spilled milk, there’s a greater reason behind this you’ll see, it will all make sense, etc. So much easier said then done. Nonetheless I’ve recently decided to start making more of an effort. For example, sometimes we think we lack certain things, when in reality they’re right in front of us, but we are so blinded by our deficits that it’s easier to stick our heads in the sand. We simply need to reach out, shift our perception. I could go on being bitter about my lack of a father and everything that comes with, instead I realized that I’ve actually had one all along, he just so happened to be disguised as my grand father and to be honest I wouldn't have preferred it any other way. There is no one I admire more.



See you in the new year.

Life: A Series of Small Sacrifices

An unpleasant thought crossed my mind today and the more it took root in my head, the more I thought to myself “well fuck.” Every single thing we do calls for a sacrifice to be made, perhaps not directly from us, but someone somewhere down the line is getting the bummer deal. In other words, there is no such thing as a true win win situation.

Familiar with “the greatest happiness principle”, key point in Utilitarian philosophy? According to this school of thought an action is considered morally good depending on the ratio of good caused by its results versus bad. This insinuates that there will necessarily be those for whom the action in question will be unfavorable. If its outcome is positive for twenty and not so for three, the latter will not even be accounted for. I learnt this in a philosophy course about five years ago, but at the time the information never really phased me. Today, it hit me like a ton of bricks, perhaps it has something to do with this crazy sinus infection that I am trying to overcome with the use of meds and my desperate need to find something to feel shitty about.

All this disturbs me because I realize that a lot of people I know, and perhaps even myself, are not necessarily a part of the sphere encircling those favorable to “the greater good”. So what is left for those of us who remain outside? Can there be such thing as an action that doesn’t leave anyone out in the dark? My point really isn’t to get all philosophical here, as I know these are questions that have already been posed in such contexts, however when you really face this predicament and realize the answer is no, it really gets you thinking. When it comes to big decisions especially, someone is bound to get hurt. We basically spend our lives getting hurt and causing pain, whether we are to blame or not. Sometimes people even take forever to make a decision, then when they finally do, another person will turn around a say “you have balls to do this to me”, well yes frankly it does take “balls” to make any decision… it’s like handling a knife, you have to be very careful because it’s their balls or yours.

Exhibition Virginity

I would like to announce that last night my exhibition virginity was taken. I must say, I was a little nervous… it being my first time and all. However it felt great.

If ever you happen to be in the neighborhood, do stop by Blizzarts anytime during the next week and take a look at the work exposed (twelve photographs by twelve photographers).
My piece features a girl holding a chrome toaster, fixating her distorted reflection within it (the mirror of how she perceives herself), while seated in a bathtub – a photo I took especially for the occasion and my first shot at “composition” photography.

Thank you Emily for being my muse, getting wet for me and being so patient.
Thank you Neil for all your help and support, as always.

& thank you Simon for being my fuel and a constant inspiration.

Barfly Goes Classic

If Kubrick had been into making comedies, I feel as though I could have possibly spent last night in one of them. It was freezing and we didn’t feel like going too far for a drink, so we hit Barfly. It was pretty dead, save for a few people gathered around a table and a few others seated at the bar. Everyone seemed to know each other. Those of you who have been to Barfly know that it’s not exactly your suit-and-tie kind of joint. Therefore although I never dared dream of hearing Bach being performed here, to our amusement, we actually enjoyed a solo cello performance. It was pleasantly odd. Like when people first started wearing Converses with their suits.

Morning

Not only did I wake up to this view a couple of hours ago, but I was able to take the time to enjoy it. Amazing what a few chubby birds and some snowflakes can do. I haven’t felt this peaceful since I can remember.

BIAŁY

Some wounds are invisible. Some illnesses are not apparent.
However they are still there and need to be treated.

Shot in video. Short social commentary.

To be blind does not only apply to those who cannot see.

I’d Rather Go Blind

Completely down into Etta James at the moment.

Proof that pain can be translated into song…

Make Do

Last Thursday I went to see Do Make Say Think at Sala Rossa.

I believe there are two kinds of instances in life that make our heart feel as though it will leap out through our mouth dragging our lungs along with it: anxiety attacks and profoundly poignant music. For a change, it was the latter I experienced that night at Sala. I could barely see the band, but it didn’t matter. I closed my eyes, letting myself be engulfed by the heat and the music. It was as though I was listening to a full fledged orchestra. And no alcohol was needed to send hot flashes deep in my chest. I remember at one point, it was as though all the instruments had fused themselves into one, one wall of sound, one grand note, one moment where time stood still for as long as that note dragged on.

Don’t Want to go Home

Some moments you just wish would go on forever.

For me, that’s the case with every moment spent with you.

First Sight

This is the first film that my friends Emily, Katia and I shot in 16mm film with a Bolex camera.
“First Sight” is a journey that gradually lifts the cloud of blindness laid upon us by our fast-paced society and guides us towards a clear vision of beauty regarding our surroundings. A vision that often cannot be appreciated by the naked eye. Here the camera lens serves as interpreter between individual and environment, helping the former become reacquainted with the latter which he has so often taken for granted.

This is a short experimental film.

Feedback would be much appreciated!

Slow down, life is beautiful, but only to the eyes of the one who takes the time to see it.

I Just Needed to Vent

So I spent…

Magnus Muhr

A photographer from Karlskoga, Sweden whose primary occupation is caring for the mentally ill. That alone gives him points according to my criterion.

This is just fun…

Open Discussion

Over time, do even the brightest of diamonds lose their shine in the eyes of the ones who possess them?

It seems as though this is unfortunately unavoidable no matter how hard one tries to obtain something, once they get it, they end up taking it for granted.

Hit me with your responses folks.

Hey! Daniel Johnston – UK FED

Friday (Oct. 16) was the first time in a long time that I actually got emotional during a show. This genius of a man, who’s been playing longer than I’ve been alive, really gets you here (violently grasping the fabric of my t-shirt over my heart). I have so much respect for Daniel Johnston and remarkably (or perhaps not so) on Friday at the Ukrainian Federation, the air was thick with that sense of respect towards this person that is shared by all. His set was immaculate and it was definitely interesting to see him with a band and not all by his lonesome. I am sure I speak for many when I say he is an immense source of inspiration in more ways than one.

He performed a cover of The Beatles’ “You’ve got to Hide your Love Away” and my eyes filled. This song happens to be my favorite of theirs so I couldn’t believe it. “True Love Will Find you in the End” was equally amazing… And I’m happy I was able to share such an incredible experience with my Love who enjoyed it as much as I did. Moments like these are great to look back on when you’re old and grey.

A Day in the Life (Thanksgiving Edition)

Pill, Pill Come my Way...

Get me through an other day.

Where Have all the Good Values Gone?

Have we left them all with our grandparents?
Has our society conditioned us to have the need for constant change, for abundance and for things to always be within an arm’s length grasp?
Is trust becoming obsolete in this world where one’s personal interests are one’s only priorities? Where we would not give the shirt off our backs to someone in need, but snatch a shirt off some vulnerable prey.
Is compassion being numbed by the expansion of technology, subsequently causing the slow isolation and retreat of humans to the glow of their monitors?
In our disposable culture, where whatever we dispose of can be replaced within the hour, have we begun to view people as disposable?
If we are not happily married anymore, do we find it easier to simply put our spouse on a shelf while we play elsewhere? Or perhaps we can even dispose of them altogether!
Has this become our new way of dealing with issues, rather than putting in the “manual” effort and time to fix things?
Have we become lazy due to the “button effect”?

Sadly, I believe so...

Neil Mota Photography, Destination: Japan (BIG BASH TONIGHT)

Now I am well aware that it is practically already tomorrow so a post such as this may seem futile to most, however the party I am about to announce is going on till 6am… and due to the fact that I feel like a brand new mother with a brand new baby (Concordia) and I don’t have much time for anything other than it, I didn’t have the time to announce this event till now. If this party is so great than why am I home? I just came from there… and unfortunately I have baby duties to attend to (homework).
So for all you late night blog-looker-atters not knowing what to do with your night… Run, I say, don’t walk to 6250 HUTCHISON on the 5th Floor to support an AMAZING photographer that I personally look up to and who happens to also be a very dear friend of mine, Neil Mota. This event is a fundraiser to help Neil finance his journey to Japan in order for him to take the photographs he is missing to complete his book, a book that we, those familiar with the project (I can’t remember if it’s supposed to remain a secret), are awaiting finalization with much anticipation.

Les Essentiels of What I WANTed

Finally, I am fully equipped to take on the world…

He’s Like the Wind

The Tebori Experience by Shinji

Still a little beat from the Art Tattoo Montreal convention last weekend, I’ve finally found the time to mention two wonderful people I met during this brief period. Shinji Horizakura and his lovely wife Miki are a genuinely amazing couple that I have grown extremely fond of. The convention has always been a great opportunity for me to meet individuals from all over, some I still see every year and others I will most likely never cross paths with again. However, I greatly value this particular encounter and hope to see them both again in a not so distant future.

Shinji is a part of the Horitoshi family, i.e. he followed a long and rigorous apprenticeship in Japan over a period of several years under Horitoshi himself before having learnt everything there was to be taught, subsequently moving to New York and starting to work at “NY Adorned” tattoo shop. Shinji uses the traditional Japanese technique called “tebori”, which involves binding several steel needles to a steel or titanium rod, then repeatedly perforating the skin once he saturates the needles with ink. Getting tattooed this way has often been qualified as an almost spiritual experience. It takes far more time to complete a piece, but the pain is less intense then with the contemporary tattoo machine.

Simon was lucky enough to get a traditional Japanese chrysanthemum on his inner thigh from Shinji this past Monday. I was aching to get something done too so he told me next time he visits he’ll finish Simon’s, then tattoo me – stoked!

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year…

YES! The 7th annual Art Tattoo Montreal convention kicks off next Friday, September 4th and keeps a rockin’ till the 6th at the beautiful Windsor station. Personally, I get more excited about this than Halloween, my own birthday and Christmas combined. I am going to lose my shit I’m so pumped. I can’t even begin to explain why… you just gotta be there.

But that’s not all my dears… Wednesday, September 2nd is the vernissage for the Life Size – Shawn Barber & Turf One exhibit at Gallerie Yves Laroche, which basically debuts this much anticipated weekend of incessant revelry!

Touché Fellini… Touché!

“Happiness is being able to tell the truth without having to make anyone suffer.”

- The character of Guido in Federico Fellini’s masterpiece, 8 ½.

Vanitas de Fernando Vicente!

Life is fleeting, pleasure is futile and the only certainty is death. Such are the realities reflected by vanitas paintings. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the subjects were symbolic items such as the classic half-peeled lemon, broken bread, wine, hourglasses, skulls and so on. The composition itself was always very unsteady, almost as if its components could collapse at any moment, reminding its viewers of the fragility of life’s balance.

Spanish painter, Fernando Vicente, has perhaps put the message out more bluntly. Instead of classic symbols, he uses humans as a direct medium. Just by naming this series “Vanitas”, the paintings take on so much meaning. They could even be viewed as a social commentary, pointing the finger at excess and vanity so often praised by the masses. His mock-magazine cover is a great example. I would definitely like to have a couple of these hanging on my living room walls.

View more of Vicente’s extensive work here.

Pain I Grow Through

The elderly man sat on his front porch peacefully contemplating the neighboring children play in the street. His grandson should have arrived an hour ago. He grasped the armrests of his chair to heave himself up. “Pappy!” Akira cried out, slightly out of breath from across the yard. He raised his gaze while pushing his thick glasses back onto his nose and smiled broadly. “I was starting to think you had forgotten about me.” He teased. “However by the looks of it, you seem to have a good excuse. What happened to your hand my boy?” He inquired, pointing at Akira’s bandage. Hurrying to his grandfather’s side, he burst into explanation “I burnt it on the stove this morning, almost went blind with pain. It’s still throbbing like it has a heart of its own. Mother wanted me to stay in, but I insisted on seeing you. She knows it would take me much more than this to miss our Sunday afternoon tea.” The grandfather smiled and motioned to a vacant armchair. “You’re a tough young man Akira” he paused then added “not unlike your grandfather you know” after which he winked. Akira beamed. “You know son, when ever your mother used to injure herself as a young girl, I would always tell her to use the experience as a lesson instead of a defeat. Being angry or feeling sorry for oneself is a great waste of energy. Many even insist that it is through pain that we truly grow wiser.” Seriousness had fallen upon the boy’s features as he spoke “This must mean you have known much pain in your life Pappy, for you are the wisest man I know.” The grandfather let out a laugh. “My dear boy, do not look so grim! Yes it is true, I have had my decent share of sufferings, but some of those incidents have brought me very special experiences in addition to wisdom.” He leaned forward and went on “When I was in my late twenties, I was forced to go to the hospital due to a terrible affliction that had overcome me and that had worsened due to my dismissal of it in its early stages. It had gotten so severe I couldn’t really walk; your great grandmother had to half carry me through the hospital doors. My face was gleaming with sweat and tears, my body was trembling with every step, the pain was so intense I felt it was giving me fever. I will never forget the beauty of the events that followed. As soon as we stepped through the doorway, a security guard came to us, asking if we needed assistance in going to the emergency. Genuine caring was legible in his eyes, even through my blurred vision. My mother told the guard it was not necessary, that we had an appointment. However, my hospital card needed to be renewed; therefore we had to see to that before meeting with the doctor. We walked down the corridor and I could feel every single eye following my spastic movements. As mother reached to take a number, two women came running towards us. One wanted information on where we needed to go, the other was motioning us towards her desk so we could get the card issue sorted. They had skipped us ahead of a couple dozen people, but none of these people seemed to mind. Everyone was extremely understanding. At the time, I was at a phase in my life when I felt slightly sickened by humanity and was often exposed to hateful behavior, but this… this was unlike anything I had ever experienced. This is what restored my faith in human nature.” Leaning back in his chair he added “Those five days of constant pain really changed how I perceived things and even then, as I sat trembling, waiting to see the doctor, I was thankful for being able to live it.” The boy’s eyes were filled with comprehension as he spoke “Not only does suffering help progress one’s personal journey to wisdom, it unifies all through compassion.” The grandfather smiled. “Precisely.” Looking at his watch, he noted “All this talk and no tea! Come my boy, I’ll put the water on the stove. Why don’t you go fetch the biscuits in the pantry?”

Drop your Crotch and I’ll Drop Mine

In all honestly, I dig it… The whole dropped crotch thing, regardless of what anyone thinks. Maybe it’s because I sold my soul to Sixty three years ago (slowly trying to redeem it in case some were wondering) and have been wearing drop crotch Miss Sixtys for those three years, resulting in me being completely biased (brainwashed, either or). So Kalven thinks I look like I have diaper-butt… they’re effing comfortable, especially my old ones.

Here’s to me promoting one of my old brands again with a sneak peek at what Killah has in store this fall for all those of you who, like me, enjoy the feeling of extra crotch fabric rubbing in-between your thighs, yes! Oh Sixty, I could never stay mad at you.

More on the site.

You Make me Want to...

Eat your face!

Baby, it’s Cold Outside

Found this mint condition vintage fur coat for $60 at a thrift store today. I wasn’t in the market for one or anything, but thought… looks good, dirt cheap, what the hey! Maybe it’s all that Billie Holiday and old movies I’ve been listening to/watching.

J’ai Perdue la Tête

Mais je suis à sa recherche. Je t’aime.

You Killed the Tooth Fairy

Every time I lost a tooth, the following night I would carefully place it underneath my pillow, right in the very center of the bed so it wouldn’t slip and fall. You told me to do so and you I trusted above all. The following morning, as expected, I would find a bright shiny coin in its place. You told me the Tooth Fairy had placed it there and I believed you.

One afternoon I was playing in your closet when I came across a big black bag hidden at the very back. Out of curiosity I unzipped it. Almost instantly I slapped my hands to my mouth, muffling my scream. There lay the Tooth Fairy, battered and bruised, cold as death. It was at that moment doubt and disappointment had begun to settle in my soul in regards to you. My last milk tooth had been loose for a little over a weak. With all the anger my small body could muster I yanked it out. I went downstairs to show it to you and you seemed pleased. That night I waited and you came. As you reached underneath my pillow I caught your arm and said: “It’s not by killing my heroes that you will become one in my eyes”. I let go of your arm, rolled over and fell asleep.

Quote of the Day

“When Lamb Lost on Mountain, Lamb Make Cry.
Sometime come Mother, Sometime come Wolf.”

Found while wasting precious time on www.mama-tried.com

I Want to be Webbed in Gold and Silver

Two days ago I finally bought an Arielle de Pinto necklace (been wanting one for a while, just never got around to it). When it comes to describing how taken I am with her craft I feel like Woody Allen in the role of Alvy Singer when he tells Annie Hall that love is too weak a word for how he feels… I luuurve Arielle de Pinto’s work. Here’s an interview with the twenty-three year old Canadian designer who happened to study at Concordia!