new aesthetic

I want a new aesthetic. I want sparkly dark green and matte charcoal, sterling silver, black cardigans, and waist belts that are small enough for me. Finger armor meets school uniform and they get desaturated together. Apple blossom tattoos and nails filed to a soft point, dancing the hottest new dance moves that no one else can do. Lighter blonde! Granny boots, leg warmers, draping draping draping. High and wide on top, long and slender to the dirt. Paler than pale - I'm letting my eyebrows grow in a little. Did I mention lighter blonde? Perpetual manicure, matching pedicure.

dee-lays

It's been like four weeks, whatever. Yes, I am still scrubbing my face with aspirin.

In other news, my boyfriend filmed the StyleLine photoshoot a couple of weeks ago. Since photos/twitpics/cell phone snaps can't be distributed until the mag comes out in September, the video will be delayed until then, too. But it includes interviews with the photographer and stylist, as well as little Maeve doing her thang.

I've been spending too much money lately, so my next project is also going to be delayed. All I can tell you right now is this:

"Incognito, ergo sum."

Coming sune~

tada!

Here's what Dan sent me after the test shoot:


I'm pretty pleased, especially since it's not shopped beyond black/white and vignette. And no makeup! So naked. Whatev!

dust to dust

Article: Death’s Bloom by Adam Harrison Levy
Artwork: David Maisel, photographer

The canister pictured contains the ashes of a deceased mental patient. Hundreds of patients at this particular asylum were buried, then their bodies exhumed and cremated after the hospital decided to expand upon its own property (removing the cemetery, as it were). The canisters were sealed and put into a vault, then later put into nondescript shelves in a basement storage room that was prone to flooding. From the flooding, the stamped-on ID numbers were scrubbed beyond recognition, and the paper labels with the deceased patients' names were obviously dissolved. Chemicals reacted over decades and we are left with these brilliantly colored canisters, full of human remains. An intense and sorrowful story. I was moved by not just the artwork, but by the writing of the article regarding the artwork itself.

"Between the Lines" by Ariana Boussard-Reifel.

A book with every word cut out of every page. Is it even a book anymore?