Ethereal Rinko Kawauchi

I spent my Thanksgiving turkey-gorging at a Park Slope home owned by a couple who are both involved in photography. Naturally, their apartment was stocked with art books. The best find — Aila (2004), by the Japanese photographer Rinko Kawauchi. This woman’s square-format pictures are stunning! They really seem to capture many of the chief components of Japan’s unique aesthetic, like serenity and ephemerality. Truly great stuff.

The following images are all untitled from the “Aila” series, 2003-2004.

Rinko Kawauchi - Untitled (2004)

Rinko Kawauchi - Untitled

Rinko Kawauchi - Untitled

Rinko Kawauchi - Untitled

Rinko Kawauchi - Untitled


Advanced capitalism

Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami

From Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami:

I enjoy shopping at [the fancy-schmancy Kinokuniya supermarket]. You may not believe this, but the lettuce you buy there lasts longer than lettuce anywhere else. Don’t ask me why. Maybe they round up the lettuce after they close for the day and give them special training. It wouldn’t surprise me. This is advanced capitalism, after all.

Nearly all of my friends who have read Murakami say they dislike his books because they don’t like the narrator. Murakami’s narrators are similar in that they all seem to represent the postmodern everyman — detached, deadpan, resigned to the fact that the best of days have long passed. The big complaint is that this character is annoying because he is apathetic and you don’t wind up loving him or hating him enough to find him interesting. Dance Dance Dance is only the third Murakami novel I’ve read (the others being A Wild Sheep Chase and Norwegian Wood) and I have to say that I find the narrators to be introspective and relatable, the perfect windows into Murakami’s surreal worlds. Very Nick Carraway-esque; I’m sane and everyone around me is crazy — or is it that I’m crazy and everyone else is sane?


Some vector animals

I’ve been wasting a lot of time this week trying to learn Adobe Illustrator. Here’s a cat and a fish:


Performance plugging

Hi, shameless plug. My very cool and small friend Alexa played her first show a couple of nights ago and it tugged heartstrings and lifted spirits and blew minds. Her backing band consisted of several more friends, one of whom demanded that I post this video (in which for some reason he is dead-center and bathed in spotlight).

There is a full house of devoted fans behind this camera, by the way. When Alexa is sitting atop the acoustic scene hierarchy in the near future… Well. You heard it here first.


On connoisseurship in general

From Joel Stein’s Awesome Column on California’s medical marijuana dispensaries in the November 16, 2009 issue of TIME Magazine:

Legitimizing pot hasn’t created more users; it has just produced more annoying ones, who now apply Whole Foods-ian levels of snobbiness to the differences between Hawaiian Sativa and Humboldt Indica.


Dull existence

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers

From A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers:

I pull up to a light, next to a bunch of young black kids. Maybe they’ll shoot me. I’m in the zone of all probability. I cannot be surprised. Earthquakes, locusts, poison rain would not impress me. Visits from God, unicorns, bat-people with torches and scepters–it’s all plausible. If these kids happen to be bad kids, and have guns, and want to shoot people like me, it will be me, the glass will break and the bullet will come through and I will not be surprised. With the bullet in my head, I will drive my car into a tree, and as I am waiting to be pulled from the wreck, nearly dead, I will not panic or yell. I will think only: Weird, this is exactly what I expected.

A very honest, accurately articulated voicing of what must go on in peoples’ heads all the time. Like in those instances when you feel like the only stationary entity as the world continues to move rapidly around you. (Special bonus: not-so-thinly-veiled racial prejudice.)


Memory Tapes

Memory Tapes is the lovechild of NJ producer Dayve Hawk’s two solo projects: Weird Tapes and Memory Cassette. (Can we expect future releases under “Weird Cassette” to round out this quadfecta of aliases?)

Seek_Magic

The first three tracks on the new album, Seek Magic, are absolute money. Give “Green Knight” a listen–yes, that is indeed a basketball game sample about a minute in. Genius? dude yeah.

Memory Tapes - Green Knight

Protect ya neck

A new discovery: Swedish music label Sincerely Yours (home to Air France, Tough Alliance, etc.) sells–in addition to records and “normal” band merchandise–bulletproof vests. Unfortunately it’s no longer for sale. Seems to have sold out as an April 2007 limited edition. Too bad, it sounds like a must-have.

protect ya neck with 50% symbolism and 50% reality. it ain’t safe no more.

this quilted bulletproof vest is perfect for traditional hunting as well as urban guerilla warfare. there’s always someone who wants to put an end to you if you kill compromises like others kill flies. if this someone aims sharp enough, at least you’ll take your last breath with sueded shoulders.


Holley portraits

I found this guy’s site while searching “christmas card” in Google Images. I kept clicking and stumbled upon a typographic self portrait project comprising user-created submissions. The resulting gallery is pretty cool. Holley Portraits via Daniel Eatock.


Frankfurt Express, from France

Eagerly anticipating some kind of official release by Frankfurt Express, a duo produced by Lifelike.
(God I can’t wait until someone develops a better social network platform for musicians so that Myspace can be phased out entirely)

frankfurtexpress


Kundera and the new media landscape

From The Book of Laughter and Forgetting by Milan Kundera:

[B]eauty vanished long ago. It vanished under the surface of the noise–the noise of words, the noise of cars, the noise of music–we live in constantly. It has been drowned like Atlantis. All that remains of it is the word, whose meaning becomes less intelligible with every passing year.

One morning (and it will be soon), when everyone wakes up as a writer, the age of universal deafness and incomprehension will have arrived.

Seems like Kundera saw it coming back in 1979, pre-blogosphere. Gives more weight to that “unbearable lightness of being” he wrote about five years later doesn’t it?