Un petit ramoneur

Attention Attention,
the talented researcher and reporter of absolutely strange forms of human life Lise Sarfati has a show in London starting 3rd of February in a gallery unknown to me Brancolini Grimaldi in Mayfair. Don't miss Miss Sarfati story of mothers and daughters (some are bigger than other...)




Today is tomorrow, the 20th of January. It is. Trust me.

Here is the text , the words, on yesterday's green coloured in egg box:

I know why I do it.
I thought it would take over an hour but it took less than 20 minutes. I coloured the bottom as well but not the inside. I did that because I terribly need to talk but have nothing to say. I mean that I don't want to talk about anything in particular. The want to talk becomes overwhelming and eventually collapses in to a meaningless action. Sometimes I go for a walk, sometimes I do the washing-up and sometimes I colour in an egg box. I have to say that this particular action was premeditated. I was having a good look at the box before throwing away, just to make sure it had to be thrown away, when I remembered the shade of green my usual egg boxes are. As I removed the label to give my imagination more field, I asked myself if I could imitate that green and as I had a green pencil at hand, between the butter and the milk, I gave it a try, just a bit of colouring in at one side. I liked it immediately and put the box aside. A few days later, I grabbed hold of my cherished 20 years old Faber and Castell emerald green Polychromos and I coloured the whole box. 
I didn't want to spend too much time on it  though because the ultimate goal I guess is to take a photograph of it in order to share the fun. Colouring in is a very primitive way of expression and while doing it I experienced the sensation of erasing or feeling some anger or sorrow and the meditative nature of this action took me to the realisation  that I never make anything that is beautiful to look at or when I do I feel that it is week and negligent. I mainly care for junk, rubbish, rotten things, about to disappear. By the time I finished to colour in, I understood that it is because I live not under the illusion that this world is flat ; I know there is always two side to a coin. I see light best when it is absorbed and not when reflected. I do not want to look in the mirror, I just want to talk.


is it really your birthday?

I missed the HIPSLIKEBOYS birthday last week, too busy doing nothing. So here you go; I got you some eggs. there's a story to go with it. I'll give it to you tomorrow. HAPPY BIRTHDAY to me.

to be or not to be

Big big hug and kisses to Mr Korine for holding his finger in the wound. Big round of applause from myself.


I'm tired of reading photographer's statement starting with "Ohso Clever has been working on this not so special project for 4 (2; 6 and a half, etc...) years.....", as if the numbers of days engaging in the work added some meaning to it. If these photographers did genuinely involved themselves with their subjects, it would be a lifetime matter, not a bloody engagement ceremony. Guess How long Walker Evans spent with the field laborers of the poverty stricken cotton farms of South USA during the depression years: about 2 or 3 weeks.  How long did Nan Goldin spent taking pictures of drag queens and transvestites?
Just take the money, don't think.


Le secret de la montagne

Still me yet

Last Friday, I met up with my dearest "always in the know" friend Disneyrollergirl and off we went in our boys shoes and big coat to the Victoria and Albert Museum Friday Late to indulge in some 80's hip nostalgia and a contained bout of hysteria, such as Ettore Sotssas always bring on me. The whole experience was totally self-absorbing and I loved it; from Ron Arad to Jenny Holzer, from Laurie Anderson to Blade Runner, Ricardo Boffil to Peter Saville, all my childhood heroes were there, in a superficial way, yes, but still giving me a wink that I interpreted as a sign to remember where I came from. It seems like yesterday that I walk past a design gallery in Berlin one evening and saw the trolley armchair in the window;  it was 1988. As David Byrne put it "...as we get older, we stop making sense...", good old England to do it for us against the modish sum of 12 pounds.
The Postmodernism, Style & Subversion 1970/1990 at the V&A finishes on 15/01/2012