In a few days I will be retracing the path of thousands of ancient conastogas, puttering up Shasta and down Grant’s, charring and grimacing under the Oregon blaze, just to get to my homeland of Seattle, Washington.
It’s very rare that I show my art publicly. After last time, when an angry mob showed up early with torches and pitchforks and ate all the cubical cheese, I had really lost hope in the Seattle art scene. I tried showing down here in the Bay Area, where I now reside, but had to take down early due to hippies protesting a yeti that had climbed one of the campus trees.
It is for this reason that I would be terribly obliged if only you’d find some way to drop in at either one of the art shows I’m launching this weekend.
Speaking of questionable fashion choices, just in time for the impending nuclear and/or sun scorched apocalypse (or Burning Man, whatever) Ectomo brings you the Medusa. When this thing appeared on my screen I audibly gasped, it’s like someone reached into my brain and groped around until they found the specific squishy fold housing all my cranial accessory fantasies. With a hat and goggle set like this I would be unstoppable, or hilarious, or oft ridiculed and savagely beaten. Unfortunately I’ll never find out; with a price tag of $750 for the complete set my dreams of achieving total fashion alienation may be forever out of reach.
This shot from the Ryerson University 2006 fashion show displays a series of dresses I’ve been fascinated with for months. No other information about the designer is available at this Flickr account, save that they showed there and then.
Almost certainly one of the greatest works of derivative culture created in the past century, this video portrays Snow White as only the Germans could interpret her. The special effects are flawless, the message is crystal clear, the parody is pitch-perfect. And at 3:24, an image that could sell a thousand albums all by itself, but I won’t spoil the surprise.
One is reminded of Tom Lehrer’s words of wisdom: “When correctly viewed, everything is lewd. I can tell you stories about Peter Pan, and the Wizard of Oz: there’s a dirty old man!”
Tiny *punks meander, Lost Boy-like, through a digitally enhanced desert. These photographs make me wistful, as if I am dimly remembering a parallel childhood.
Fangirlism is not in my nature. That said, this trailer for Fallout 3 (yes, it came out 4 weeks ago, this is not Kotaku and I don’t care) stings me with just a little hopeful anticipation. Like a fat baby landing on a bare waterbed, ripples of cautious joy are radiating from my solar plexus to the far reaches of my cramped and bitter body.
What I find riveting about this trailer, however, is not the Falloutness itself, but the choice of themesong. “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” by the Inkspots was suggested, by name, in a months-old Something Awful forums thread about Fallout 3 and the Van Buren Project.
Any instance of The Man, in this case the game company Bethesda, quietly monitoring mob media and deciding to act on public opinion, is fascinating to me.
As my dear friend Zack Bastard intoned; “It’s like watching an epileptic mongoloid running across a parking lot strewn with discarded rollerskates trying to bring me a Faberge egg. I desperately want to cross the distance between us, and take it from his wildly flailing hand but I can’t move. It’s a nightmare I can’t wake up from.”
In sheer defiance of the World Wide Web Consortium's will, Ectomo was designed using a non-web-standard font. Luckily, it is included in the excellent font pack released by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, which can be freely downloaded in Mac and PC formats here. Ectomo should still look fine without it, though.
It’s very rare that I show my art publicly. After last time, when an angry mob showed up early with torches and pitchforks and ate all the cubical cheese, I had really lost hope in the Seattle art scene. I tried showing down here in the Bay Area, where I now reside, but had to take down early due to hippies protesting a yeti that had climbed one of the campus trees.
