“In 2010 I asked a group of artists whose work I admired, mostly my friends, to submit a piece based on their interpretation of the idea of a feral child. I used “kid” instead of “child” in the title as an homage to the character in Mad Max because he was a cool character, it is an awesome movie and I love motorcycles. There are no interviews in Feral Kid because an interview is a record of someone’s thoughts, opinions and ideas at one moment in time and that person may not necessarily have those same beliefs in the future. Rather I have tried to allow the work in the zine to speak for itself. In essence, Feral Kid is more of a salon. A real feral kid often never learns a language because they have been secluded from society. But art to me was always a language that I understood. And then discovering an artist whose work I connected with was like finding out they spoke that same language. Each one of the artists who contributed to Feral Kid issue 1 is an inspiration to me.” – Caroline Snow
Please purchase her awesome zine HERE and support the furthering of this great project!
*Featuring works by Ryan Foerster, Terence Koh, Harmony Korine, Tuomas Korpijaako, Grear Patterson, Christopher Snow, Dash Snow, Max Snow, Peter Sutherland and others
Speaking of Peter Sutherland, these are a few shots by him that I absolutely love.
One of my favorite design teams, threeASFOUR, has a new opening at The Jewish Museum in New York City. The exhibition is entitled MER KA BA and includes pieces from their SS2014 collection, featuring 3D-printed textiles made in collaboration with the architect Bradley Rothenberg. The inspiration for both the fashion and the museum’s environment is taken from sacred geometry and tile patterns found in synagogues, churches, and mosques around the world- a sort of unification through religions. Their work will remain on view through February 2, 2014.
The installation features a “temple” designed in collaboration with Studio Christian Wassmann, video projections by 3D animation designer Alex Czetwertynski, and sound by composer Raz Mesinai.
MER KA BA includes several spiritual concepts: Merkaba is a mystical form of Judaism; ka ba alludes to the Kaaba, one of the holiest sites in Islam and the focal point of the Mecca pilgrimage; Muraqaba is a Sufi meditation practice. But the phrase has even older roots. In ancient Egypt the hieroglyphs mer (rotating light), ka (spirit), and ba (body), placed together, describe the energy field through which the soul enters the body and ascends to higher planes. In contemporary New Age belief, merkaba is a vehicle of transcendence.
Designers Gabriel Asfour, Adi Gil, and Angela Donhauser were born in Lebanon, Israel, and Tajikistan. Their diverse backgrounds have influenced their poetic and socially-conscious approach to fashion. For them, haute couture is about more than beautiful clothes; it is both wearable art and a platform for their free-spirited philosophy.
Christianity, Islam and Judaism “share an undying belief that the universe was built according to a specific mathematical plan,” threeASFOUR says. “It is impossible to ignore the similarities prevalent in the details adorning every surface” of their religious structures.
*Some article excerpts via Broadwayworld.com
One of my favorite poets, Danielle Pafunda, has a new book called Natural History Rape Museum on its way, and in celebration I ordered 3 of her 4 books in the middle of the night. You probably should too if you’re into literature.
“Danielle Pafunda is a sick twist. I read her for seer and scar. She sees and scars, most especially my insides. Always, Pafunda finds-me-with something. I’m always ashamed. And always, always I’m smiling.” — Kirsten Kaschock
Here’s an example of one of her writings. It’ll cut you like a raw blood diamond.
Dear Mom and Dad,
In the culvert there are the bruised faces of elderberries and actual bruised faces and I have slipped from a limb wet and greased and fallen, hard along my left side. I have, you know, hit a man in the head with a rock when he was still a boy and bent so sickeningly I myself looked away. I have ridden a broken man up the sixty-foot banks, I have looped my bad tail around him. At the top we found some hair and condoms. We found some of your handwriting, or maybe it was boys’. We found her name scratched into the rocks if her name was indeed you sweet bitch. Or maybe, you sweat bitch. You bitch in the scuzzed out camp fire. You bitch seeing things projected over the fat, lank skin of trees. Oh. We bitches. Oh we see certain things. We trace over everything with a charred stick and in the morning and in the morning and in what passes for morning on an overcast day too cold to be an actual summer day, we see that all the tracings are of bodies and all the bodies fashionably contorted around one or the other of us. My long scarf gets caught in the mulberry tree. Mulberry, actually. There’s no such thing as the past, here. There aren’t any old-fashioned recipes, or any ideas about the hymen. We piss into a little china cup with England carved in the bottom. A little bluebell of a cup, tipped up, like so. I am tipped up, cupped, concave in places where there used to be someone—someone used to be in this place. What an empty pretty bag. What a pack of something used to be in there. And a bottle of. And an efficient blade. You cannot blame me for lying about the route we took. We took off our shoes when it got very slick and scuttled into the future. Oh, here we are. Oh, we are only one of us here, it’s getting dark, in the wrong time zone, it snowed today before the sun went down. I talked to your proxies. I talked myself bluing the rain of flies on my forearms as I hitched the screen, as the storm window tipped out in slow motion I saw it falling several stories and then I was on the street, the whole frame threatening to take me to saw, threatening to scratch and dust me. And then it didn’t, so on I walked,
Your Ugly Little,
(poem via The Awl)