So, I was at the salon, getting my gold foil in place for the summer, and leafing through Paula Reed’s Fifty Fashion Looks that Changed the 1970s, picking up inspiration for the future. I took some notes and lodged some thoughts – I really do love psychological and sociological analysis of fashion, and this book was full of it, plus this idol for future meditative purposes:
From the intro:
‘It doesn’t take a PhD in psychology to work out that the layers that defined fashion’s mainstream look all spoke in some way about protection. The short skirts over long skirts, the cropped sleeves over wrist length, the dresses with tabards and aprons, the piling on of patterns and textures: all were like a regression into a gentler past. Meanwhile, the glittering feather-trimmed wardrobes of the disco divas were pure escapism. And fashion remained in flamboyant denial until punk exploded into the aggression of the 1980s.’
Bill Gibb‘s shapes and patterns are nomadic luxe. He is cited here as having said, “Reality is so horrific these days that only escapism makes it bearable at times.”
Kansai Yamamoto‘s Bowie costuming is sublime:
Kenzo Takada. ‘Once asked why he didn’t design sexy, close-fitting clothes, he winced and said: “I couldn’t, I’m too shy.”‘
Photographer, Deborah Turbenville, and her melancholic scenarios. Reed says she ‘shows women who desire something more than men can give.’
And this quote on disco that cut my heart to shreds:
‘Disco had its detractors, of course. Punk scorned it, equating it with the cabaret culture of Weimar Germany for its ignorance of social ills and its escapism.’
But this page on Kate Bush made everything better:
Two days of further concentration difficulties have resulted in this rather crummy video, yet I feel it is going in the right direction. I hope I can get a good deal more done this coming Monday, before I jett off back to N.I. for a big family shindig. Clearly the distance ‘twixt arms and legs is highlighting the need for me to draw an entire body, but that will come in time, on a new layer. So far, the pressure tool on Photoshop is giving me some pleasure – almost real brush-like strokes.
Can this be Yoriko Mizushiri, too?
Firstly, Shishi Yamazaki (greatest website)
These pieces have all the dancing a girl could need. Plus, the beauty of shitting out cherry blossoms is a much-overlooked phenomenon in today’s society.
Yamazaki appears to be part of a wonderful collective (?) called Shibu Karu, a whole bunch of Japanese wondergals, including another star of the animated shorts from last year’s Leeds International Film Festival, Yoriko Mizushiri.
Just one clip from the gorgeously drippy Merrie Melodies short Hollywood Steps Out. This is a cartoon deeply embedded in my consciousness, a result of repeat viewings of our Cartoons R Fun video collection when I was a child. The dancing is exquisite, and the video should be viewed in full here.
Asses, asses and hips. Hips and asses.
My concentration is not functional today. Not functional. Still, here is the newest development in this FMP-plannin’ – I figure I will not have the time to animate a wide open plane, so my thinkin’ is that I’ll shrink the aspect down width-ways, see? Either that, or create some kind of intra-dimensional doorways for the dancers to slip in and out of. I still feel lacking a solid basic premise, but argue myself out of that corner hourly with real-life hip rotations.
Much more effort needed tomorrow.
Exit the Model, 1982, acrylic and chalk on canvas
Found in Leeds Art Gallery, the description adds some contextual goodness:
‘From the ’60s onwards McLean had developed a practice centred on performance which took a subversive approach to formalist academicism of an earlier generation by de-materializing it. From the ’70s he turned increasingly to painting, adopting a witty and subversive parody of current expressionistic styles while continuing to incorporate familiar and frequently used images from a repertoire of forms. Ghost-like and schematic, his figures engage in a ritual-like game with rules known only to them.’
Slightly less sought-after than the Tate, the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool’s Cultural Quarter has a small-but-gorgeous sculpture collection in its sun-warmed front room. Having been on my sister’s hen do the night before (what else was I doing on my first trip to Liverpool?), I was t’rificly hungover, and so my sweat production levels were up, my drawing quality way down. Still, this Greek helmet was lovely to gaze upon – I felt maybe Moebius had been stealing the beautiful curves and slick curls from these old Greek boys.
This Adam and Eve from Arthur G Walker (gallery namesake) himself made me laugh so much. Adam’s bunched fist and strong back; Eve’s quivering, cowed posture and desperate gesture of flapping her hair round him – ayah! Lucky it covered up his penis too – that would have been embarrassing.
The next drawing is of a sculpture I fell in love with in passing, then felt the resentment of silly convention bubbling up inside, so the drawing got progressively dopey-looking. I liked their gay dancing poses though:
And this plate from Piero Fornasetti finished it all off quite nicely: