Wolfgang Laib - Milkstone (1977-87)
compare + contrast for the style con: series 3
iselin steiro in “as neon takes the night” by laurie bartley (2007) x “tokyo nostalgia” by nobuyoshi araki (1998)
Miu Miu F/W 2014
moscow. protection | ph. by hellen van meene for pop, fw 10
more than a New Year’s resolution of yogurt and yoga,
we need the opportunity to dance
with really exquisite strangers. A slow dance
between the couch and dinning room table, at the end
of the party, while the person we love has gone
to bring the car around
because it’s begun to rain and would break their heart
if any part of us got wet. A slow dance
to bring the evening home, to knock it out of the park. Two people
rocking back and forth like a buoy. Nothing extravagant.
A little music. An empty bottle of whiskey.
It’s a little like cheating. Your head resting
on his shoulder, your breath moving up his neck.
Your hands along her spine. Her hips
unfolding like a cotton napkin
and you begin to think about how all the stars in the sky
are dead. The my body
is talking to your body slow dance. The Unchained Melody,
Stairway to Heaven, power-cord slow dance. All my life
I’ve made mistakes. Small
and cruel. I made my plans.
I never arrived. I ate my food. I drank my wine.
The slow dance doesn’t care. It’s all kindness like children
before they turn four. Like being held in the arms
of my brother. The slow dance of siblings.
Two men in the middle of the room. When I dance with him,
one of my great loves, he is absolutely human,
and when he turns to dip me
or I step on his foot because we are both leading,
I know that one of us will die first and the other will suffer.
The slow dance of what’s to come
and the slow dance of insomnia
pouring across the floor like bath water.
When the woman I’m sleeping with
stands naked in the bathroom,
brushing her teeth, the slow dance of ritual is being spit
into the sink. There is no one to save us
because there is no need to be saved.
I’ve hurt you. I’ve loved you. I’ve mowed
the front yard. When the stranger wearing a shear white dress
covered in a million beads
comes toward me like an over-sexed chandelier suddenly come to life,
I take her hand in mine. I spin her out
and bring her in. This is the almond grove
in the dark slow dance.
It is what we should be doing right now. Scrapping
for joy. The haiku and honey. The orange and orangutang slow dance.
Teresa Oman by Ira Chernova
Details at Hussein Chalayan F/W 2014-15.
Kate Bogucharskaia at Lacoste f/w 2013
Erik Satie - Vexations (Excerpt I)
“Out of contempt for tradition, out of loyalty to the absurd, Erik Satie filled his scores with unperformable commands. ‘Arm yourself with clairvoyance,’ he would write; ‘open your head’; ‘be visible for a moment.’
He outdid himself in the short piano piece entitled Vexations, writing at the top of the page: ‘In order to play this motif 840 times, one would have to prepare oneself in advance, and in the utmost silence, through serious immobilities.’
It was left to John Cage to take Satie at his word and organize a 19-hour performance of Vexations in which the piece was actually heard 840 times in a row.
Complete performances of Vexations have now become something of a tradition. One pianist has even attempted the feat solo; he stopped after 15 hours, experiencing intense hallucinations.
…I arrived at 11 A.M. and stayed through till 4 the next morning, with periodic breaks and one extended crisis of confidence around midnight. Toward the end, my brain seemed to go completely blank. Epiphany came only during an escape outside onto West Broadway: suddenly, after the insanity of unstoppable pianism within, the night sounds of the city were pure music.”
Read the article on Satie’s Vexations in its entirety here.