#seapunkfauxfinish #newaesthetic #computationalityepisteme #imawarethesetagsgonowhere
What I can tell you is Orris Butter, the essential oil derived from the Orris Root, was the signature scent of the 19th century dandy. It smells a bit like violet and vetiver, it smells good.
I am interested in a random output from the life-sized pool of all the things that have ever influenced an individual, even the subconscious stuff and the seemingly meaningless stuff, and this random selection lending new meaning. Were it possible that it be truly random, it would be free of some societal conditioning or at least the privileging of some things over others. Someone recently referred to this as semiotic slipping. So anyhow, yeah I'm interested in this vast pool of stuff which relates to the self, the things that define us; we usually choose to express the ones that are socially accepted, like those that directly relate to our gender or culture. I'm interested in taking everything that you've experienced, putting it all together, mixing it up so it doesn't privilege any societal gender or culture norms and pulling stuff out in the order it falls in: a beard, lipstick, juice, afros, frogs, Krishna...and then saying OK, I'm gonna put these things on and let these things define me right now. What would that look like? (By most standards, it'd look like a crazy person, a 'fractured identity'.) What could it tell me about myself? What could it add to the self-expression conversation I've been having since I was old enough to consciously alter my appearance?
Below are a couple images from secret a project I'm working on with Lotta Studio.
Took a break from being harassed by children to go to Pennsylvania. I was out in the woods by myself with a cat. I spent most of my time there trying to convince the cat that I was OK. By the end, she tolerated me, but still wouldn't laugh at my jokes. When I wasn't attempting to cat-whisper, I did some other stuff:
It's really fun to make videos of driving around back roads listening to Donna Summers. I made like 7 of these.
Some selfies. http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/positively-media/201304/selfies-narcissism-or-self-exploration
Stood in a river a lot. I like this time of year. The snow's melted, but everything is still dead. It's nice and sparse, almost like the desert, all the greenery that comes later in Spring feels like mother nature bragging.
Almost gave up my rent money to buy this Amanita dining room set. Decided I'll build my own.
^I'd live there.
Here's some drawings I made during my stay. I've got like incurable aesthetic schizophrenia.
^White Buffalo Calf Woman
Rad ass video (I cried): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvwHHMEDdT0
I'm not sure what's going on here. It's inspired by a shamanic journey and a joke about liposuction from the comedienne Sommore.
I'm a corn-fed girl, and by corn-fed I mean drag queen fed. Around age eight I was introduced to the world of John Waters; I must have been about 6 when my mom showed me Rocky Horror Picture Show and told me that all men wore high heels in the 70's-- it was just the thing. My mom would talk about 'typical girls' in a disparaging tone, if others girl did it, it was fucking lame. So, in some ways, I access my own feminine side through female performers...I guess all gender norms are mitigated through the white patriarch, so fucking whatever anyhow.
Recently, I decided I was gonna take this shit on the road, start performing out as Orris Butter and it'd be awesome. I made this video in January, I'm gonna post it here.
The plan is to perform live, I'm also working on a photo project with Lotta Studio that explores the gender juncture, but that has less to do with the video below. So, give it a watch: Is it that bad? Is it uneventful? Is it so good it's rendering people speechless? If you've got criticism or pointers, please let me know. If they're really scathing, please private message them, because my mother reads this and I'd hate for her opinions to be validated.
More details on Orris Butter soon, btw.
Also, I dedicate this song to a special someone.
Each generation goes through the trash of previous generations, looks for overlooked beauty and meaning in the refuse that might lend understanding to the present. What's left?
I told my dad I went to MoMA, he responded: "It's all garbage." #rubbish
Edit 3/ 19/2014: Even this commentary is recycled, I'm sure. Hear it elsewhere? Heard it better? Please enlighten us with a comment below.
I wish I were a ballerina. It's like another species, another sex. It's like an angel without the responsibilities.