THINGS THAT ARE NOT INFERNO:

"The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space." - art/culture/politics/literature/fashion/film - links

[fy-perspectives]

Be careful when you cast out your demons that you don’t throw away the best of yourself.

Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra (via fy-perspectives)

[afroui]

Florence Dussuyer

[aroomfullof-lockjaw-blog]

Cindy Sherman Untitled Film Still #2 1977

Gelatin silver print,

10 x 8 inches

[thingsthatarenotinferno]

Femininity and beauty as a performance

I was 18 when I first saw myself as beautiful. I moved to a new city, read all the Great Books, fell in love for the first time. I also started eating again, exercising, laughing. I instantly slipped into a manic episode that gave me the chemical courage to grow up in a city that makes its own rules.

In high school I was not beautiful. I was depressed, I was a perfectionist. My ugliness made me feel rebellious, and I rebelled against beauty like it was oppressive. I cut my own hair and refused to cover up my acne and dark eye circles. I cut my own face with scissors, deep enough to make me ugly but not deep enough to scar. 

After several weeks of waking up in New York, I realized that my body was toned, my hair glossy, my eyes bright - I felt that I had new powers. Strangers told me I was beautiful and men frequently approached me with phone numbers scrawled on napkins. I became reckless with my looks, exploiting the insecurities of boys and glowing every time strangers stared at me on the street. It’s fun to be pretty. It’s fun to see the world from new, pretty eyes, and to make peace with mirrors and attention. I wanted to fuck everyone (partly due to mania) but also because I was addicted to the way eyes made my body real.

I never turned the camera toward myself. I knew I was beautiful, but only in the eyes of others. It’s hard to appreciate my own beauty without mirrors. Beauty is meaningless, opaque and random. In a Dazed article called “Your Ultimate Guide to Cindy Sherman,” the author writes: “Sherman’s capacity to be both the object and the looker is what marked her work from its inception; a narrative that unravels the voyeur-gaze paradigm.” When I read this I wondered, can I be the looker? Do I have the ability to assume the role of voyeur? And if I did, would it feel like love, the way mirrors do?

This is the excerpt that really got me thinking: “The male gaze – a concept theorised by Laura Mulvey in 1975 – has become instrumental in examining film and image in terms of gender, sexual identity and human relations. Sherman’s utilisation of the male gaze is complex: in one sense she diverts her passivity by being both the looker and the looked at, but in another way she consistently re-establishes the gaze by playing the victim or sexualised object. Take "Untitled Film Still #6", taken in 1977, the artist exposes herself in her underwear, holding a mirror in one hand as she dons her usual emotionless expression. While THE IMAGE is clearly sexualised, Sherman also demonstrates how femininity is a disguise, a performance, and then so too becomes the commander of the gaze.”

Since becoming beautiful in mirrors and admiring eyes, I’ve begun to wear my beauty as a mask. Beauty is a feminine ideal in our society, and this has made my self feel small in comparison. But beauty is wonderful - I can wear beauty to hide the parts of me I’ve deemed too deep and too embarrassing to share with others. It’s a performance - it’s the seducing and the being seduced, it’s the subtle flirtatious glance across a room that seemingly guards me from the male gaze. Paradoxically, when I objectify myself and turn my beauty into a performance that captivates and charms others, I feel most powerful. Even as the “victim” I feel safe. Cindy Sherman understands this, but has subverted the concept through her art in a way that is removed from material femininity catered to male eyes. In comparison, the disguise isn’t as powerful when I can only see it in the mirror.

I’m learning to replace mirrors with words. My voice is my way of becoming the commander of my own gaze. I write to learn about myself, whether I am wearing a mask or allowing myself the luxury of total vulnerability. I write to look at myself, sexualize myself, objectify myself in a way that creates something beautiful. In The Writer on Her Work, Vol. I, Joan Didion writes, “In many ways writing is the act of saying I, of imposing oneself on other people, of saying listen to me, see it my way…”

Beauty cannot get in the way of my voice, it can shape it.

[hauntedchaos]

[thingsthatarenotinferno]

You're too old to be saying to me, as you did recently, that you weren't 'interested in politics'. You're lucky that politics feels optional, something it's safe to ignore. Most people in the world have it forced on them.

Hari Kunzru

[thingsthatarenotinferno]

The brilliance of Heathers as an allegory and social commentary

It was a typical Saturday night. I was smoking pot with my friends and watching Netflix. “Have you ever seen Heathers?” I asked my girlfriends as I scrolled through my recommended movies. I don’t know why I chose that movie in particular because I’d already seen four times. But for some reason smoking weed has always made me analytical, particularly of movies like Heathers – smart, clever commentaries of the world. I’d watched it high so many times because nuances that typically slipped by my sober brain really stood out to me while stoned. But for some reason on that particular night, I realized that the dark comedy is actually an allegory for society with brilliant social and political criticisms that lead me to understand with new clarity humanity, animal instincts, and social behavior.

           Heathers (1988) is an 80s cult classic written by Daniel Waters and directed by Michael Lehmann. It’s an allegory starring of Veronica Sawyer (Winona Ryder), the newest member of the most popular clique in school – the Heathers. The fictional Ohio high school, Westerburg High), follows the standard teen movie model of high school hierarchy with all its glorious stereotypes: the jocks, the popular girls, the stoners, the geeks…and the misfit, Jason Dean (Christian Slater), or JD for short. He’s new in town and a loner, an obvious stand out in the crowd. He and Veronica are instantly drawn to one another because they possess a self-awareness not a single other character in the film possesses. Veronica is aware of how cruel the Heathers are to the other students, but doesn’t intervene at first, until she actually participates in the groupthink by bullying overweight Martha “Dump truck” Dunnstock.

Once she and JD form a friendship, however, it’s clear that JD is not simply a love interest in the film, he is Veronica’s guide to society’s inner-workings, a sort of dark angel or anarchist who reveals the failures of society. He’s a constant temptation to Veronica, daring her to see Westerburg and its students in a way that makes his actions come off as manipulative and frightening – but are they? Or is he revealing to Veronica society in all its absurdity and corruption? If this is the case, ignorance seems like bliss, but once JD shows Veronica the dark side of humankind, ignorance appears to be indoctrination induced by groupthink - far from bliss. This is what JD shows Veronica, as demonstrated by the various plot points and devices in Heathers, and this is what I believe to be the reality of the society and social behavior.

           JD and Veronica see how cruel the Heathers and the jocks, Kurt and Ram, are. As the reigning students of Westerburg, the popular crowd abuses their power by abusing Westerburg’s less self-entitled population. Martha Dumptruck is fat and unattractive, therefore deemed unacceptable by a society where good looks and wealth (a powerful position the popular crowd possesses and wields over the school) are ultimately valued over kindness and genuineness. Heather Chandler, the leader of the Heathers, asks Veronica to write a steamy letter to Martha and sign Kurt’s name. “I have nothing against Martha Dunnstock,” Veronica argues, but gives in when Heather responds, “But you have nothing for her either.” Heather’s other rationale for cruelty? “They all want me as a friend or a fuck.” Translation: She’s hot, she’s rich, and therefore she’s powerful. Kurt and Ram, portrayed as caricatures of the typical dumb jocks, despite being bumbling idiots with no capability of independent thought (“Let’s kick his ass” tends to be how they confront people like JD that seem unfamiliar to them), are similarly given power for their status as strong male athletes. This is another indicator of what Westerburg, the ultimate microcosm for society, values – hypermasculinity. In fact, most characters in positions of status and power like Veronica’s parents are actually quite vapid. Her wealthy mom and dad are so indoctrinated by society’s values that Veronica actually tells them they’re idiots, and the couple agrees, unable to process individual or original thought.

           JD asks the questions we’re all thinking at this point: why does Veronica hang out with the Heathers? Partly the reason why is because Veronica’s middle school friend, Betty Finn, has become uncool and geeky, and is consequently treated harshly by the Heathers. Social conditioning has taught Veronica that it’s better to be in than it is to be out. But in Veronica exists the ability to question the validity of this social order. What about kindness, or intelligence, or actually liking your friends? Is any of that important? JD challenges Veronica to ask these questions and to see the Westerburg social order as what it is – a microcosm of a society that is corrupt and driven by abusive authority figures. When Kurt and Ram try to beat JD up in the cafeteria, JD pulls out a gun and shoots blanks at them, telling Veronica, “The extreme always seems to make an impression.” This so-called extremism is how JD stands up to Westerburg’s shallow social hierarchy. When Veronica fails to impress Heather at her first college party (the determinant for future popularity, Heather claims) she is pushed to the edge and decides to join JD in his extremism.

           JD presents Veronica with several options for how to change a fucked up society. The first option is to kill the ones in power to make Westerburg (a microcosm of society) a better place. JD pressures Veronica to murder Heather with him. Veronica follows through and rationalizes the murder by recognizing that Heather is cruel and Westerburg would be better without her. The pair goes on to murder Kurt and Ram as well.

            What they observe is certainly not what they expected. If you remove a cruel person from power, it turns out another power-hungry individual will take their place. Heather Duke, previously second in command to Heather Chandler, realizes that without Heather in her way, she has the opportunity to rule the school. “Why can’t you just be a friend? Why are you such a mega-bitch?” Veronica demands of Heather. Her response, accompanied by a laugh and shrug, is “Because I can be. Do you really think if Betty Finn’s fairy-godmother suddenly made her cool she’d still hang out with her dweeb-ette friends?” It’s not a matter of politics, it’s a matter of human nature. Power corrupts. The metaphor is high school: there will always be another popular girl to take the place of another popular girl. Furthermore, Teen Suicide becomes the most popular song on the radio. This commodifies a tragic phenomenon and turns it into a popularity contest (when Martha tries to kill herself, she is alienated for not being cool) – another sign of society’s fucked-up-ness.

           The second option JD presents Veronica: Remove yourself from society. Veronica breaks up with JD and fakes her suicide so he will leave her alone. However, Veronica know that JD is plotting to commit a mass murder, and she knows she must stop him. She is unable to remove herself from JD’s extremism because simply pretending society is not screwed up doesn’t make an impact on society.

           The third option is to blow up the school. Kill everyone because (and here’s the real key to the film) we ARE society. Society isn’t an overarching term for the system in place. People are society. Kill everyone in society (Westerburg) and problem solved, according to JD. Fortunately, Veronica is too smart to fall for his extremism. In several ICONIC scenes of Winona kicking serious ass, she saves Westerburg.

The alternative option Veronica chooses? Society is shitty. But you can do your best – everyone of us makes up society, so we have more power than we think. Veronica takes over Heather’s red bow (symbolic for power) and is kind, taking Martha under her wing and being a good friend.  

[thingsthatarenotinferno]

5 reasons why Gregg Araki’s The Doom Generation is fantastic, other than the iconic line “I’m gonna lop his dick off like a chicken head”

1.      Fashion // Jason Rail’s costume design should be hailed as actual art because it basically deserves its own gallery space and coffee table book. Honestly, imagine a world without Rose McGowan’s black bob. I’m shuddering. Thank god for Vice i-D because they released Rail’s polaroids from the set of The Doom Generation. There are real gems in the collection – could you imagine keeping this photo of Parker Posey in a shoebox?! I would gram this photo SO hard! I would have kids just so I could show it off to my grandkids!

But Rail and his polaroids are way more than just cool. For someone (like me) who didn’t come of age in the 90s, The Doom Generation and its fashion are practically 90s film/art/fashion preserved in amber. The aesthetic of 90s counterculture and independent film is encapsulated in this film and its brilliant costume design. Nothing is cooler or more inspiring to me than fashion in film, and Rail’s work is supremely satisfying.

2.      Aesthetic // When I first saw this film as an angsty, disaffected 16 year old who listened to too much Radiohead, I found that I identified mainly with the look of the film. I’m extremely sensitive (emotionally/feeling-wise) to light and shadows, as well as color. I felt dark, sad, and alienated (I was an undiagnosed manic depressive, after all) and the film’s aesthetic captured the way a person like that perceives the world. I understood the dark appeal to the sleaziness of some of the scenes. The Kwik E Marts were hugely inspiring to me, and caused me to drink gas station soda and eat gas station nachos every weekend for an entire year just because I thought there was something trashy and cool about gas station food (see also the scene in Heathers where Winona goes to the gas station to get “BQ corn nuts” and runs into Christian Slater.) If I’m just going to be honest, I love sleaze to a near sickening degree.

3.      Skinny Puppy’s cameo // OBVIOUSLY! “There’s just no place for us in this world,” Rose McGowan’s silhouetted lips say breathily, right before Skinny Puppy shows up as the “gang of goons.” This is honestly so iconic! 

4.      Violence // My favorite kind of humor is dark humor that evokes a sense of alienation and depicts scenes of violent but meaningless deaths removed from grief and morality. I know it’s a little sick, but the combination of casual sex and rampant nihilism is a major turn on. But this is what makes The Doom Generation as linguistically brilliant as it is visually striking. Roger Ebert said this about the film: “Words like ‘disaffected,’ ‘distanced’ and ‘deadpan’ flew from my mind onto my note pad while I was watching ‘The Doom Generation.’ This is the kind of movie where the filmmaker hopes to shock you with sickening carnage and violent amorality, while at the same time holding himself carefully aloof from it with his style’”

Honestly though, it’s seriously underestimating Araki’s talent to write off his nihilism as cheap shock value. As someone with an almost erotic attraction to amorality in film, the violence in The Doom Generation doesn’t even shock me. I’m not totally desensitized to violence, but I can understand how its visual appeal contributes to the overall aesthetic of the film. And it’s why the film is so inspiring to me. Casual sex, casual drug usage, casual major depressive disorder, and casual violence is very appealing when depicted in teen movies. 

5.      Language and brazen sexuality // “If bullshit were music, you’d be a big brass band.”

“Oh my God. If i don't find my skull lighter, I'll, like, slit my wrists.”

“All hail the Coffee and Cigarette God.”

“Eat my fuck”

The characters are ridiculous. This word choice is not indicative of a limited vocabulary, it’s the best word to describe the mouthy, explicit quippiness of the characters. Also, the threesome scene, duh. Like, do I really have to explain the appeal of the sexuality aspect of the film? Not to mention the politics of it all. I know, I know, but any time counterculture and LGBT representation is depicted in a film, you know there are white people getting angry somewhere. Just watch it for yourself here.

[thingsthatarenotinferno]

on women & weed: why the lady stoner is way cooler than heroin chic

Similar to how rock embraced women in the 90s, Youth culture is now embracing fully developed, well-written women characters who love weed, partying, and casual sex. I call this woman the Lady Stoner or the Hot Mess. Comedy in particular is becoming more inclusive of this expression of femininity as weed becomes legal in more states. The representation of goofy lady stoners in pop culture has substantially increased - hilarious, fun, and woke (i.e. political conscious women aware of systemic oppression and intersectionality) women are finally being portrayed as lazy stoners on television (Broad City, for example.) This matters. How many times have I watched films and shows about guys getting high, partying, and trying to lose their virginity? (Way too many.) The hot mess works as a character trope because she’s not a tragedy or a victim, she’s the new girl next door.

The lady stoner’s cultural feminism is quickly going mainstream. [Definition of CF, written by me for all intents and purposes: Feminism that aims to liberate women through tv, film, performance, literature, and all other forms of art through representation.] My Lady Stoner/Hot Mess role models are women I can relate to and who express my brand of femininity and feminism (Anna Kendrick, Amy Schumer and Abbi Jacobson and Ilana Glazer of Broad City fame come to mind.) As weed becomes legal in more states, representation of lady stoners in pop culture has substantially increased – hilarious, successful and woke (i.e. politically conscious) women are finally being portrayed as lazy stoners on film and television. Move over, Slater.

The lady stoner is a dynamic, developed character; a deeply (but not tragically) flawed party girl who suffers from paradoxical immaturity: the comorbidity of egomania and self doubt that characterizes a reluctance to grow up. In extreme cases this phenomenon can escalate to Holden Caulfield levels of angst, although comedies tend to make light of this breed of self-absorption (this is the backbone of Girls’ self-deprecating humor.) This paradox is a comedic trope that has saturated youth culture for years, most commonly demonstrated by male dominated stoner comedies (like Workaholics.) Youth culture often glorifies comedies about guys fucking around but has traditionally forced women comedians into two narrow roles: the virgin or the whore (see: the virgin/whore dichotomy.) Where are the real women who smoke weed every day and fuck up every now and again? Women like me? A good example is the movie Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates. This film subverts the idea that the ego/insecurity paradox is unique to men, providing lady stoners with the screen time they deserve. In the film, Aubrey Plaza and Anna Kendrick are portrayed as messy, deeply (but not tragically) flawed, stoners/hot messes. They get fired for showing up to work drunk, drop ecstasy at a wedding, and wake and bake in their pajamas. But they also have good intentions and are capable of reflection and forgiveness (like…*gasp* real people!)

Cultural feminism has begun to permeate youth culture by granting women permission to be publicly out of control. What a time to be alive: the lady stoner phenomenon is, tgod, what has surfaced in the wake of the manic pixie dream girl of the mid to late 2000s (RIP to the careers of Zach Braff and Zooey Deschanel.) Also gone are the days of fashion/music’s controversially-dubbed heroin chic, when troubled and disaffected girls were fetishized in pop culture (Kate Moss, 90s Courtney Love.) In 2016 it’s cool to be a bit of a hot mess i.e. a tad self-absorbed, anxious, and perpetually stoned, so long as you have a big heart and can drop gems of feminist wisdom every now and then. The political message of the lady stoner is what elevates the trope to societally impactful art. Women are in control: of their bodies and what goes into them and of their own failures and mistakes. The message received is that women have a right to be a little out of control without the brand of a scarlet A. This cultural development is as validating as it is entertaining. When Abbi and Ilana spill blue ink all over gallery art and then laugh about it over a joint; when Amy Schumer talks brazenly about her bad sex, I begin to recognize their humanness. [Humanness: Humans making inevitable and disappointingly human mistakes, both as result of individual flaws, the burden of growing up, and being alive.]  This cultural development is as validating as it is entertaining. Lady stoners and the new generation of pop culture party girls have taught me to accept and forgive the part of me that’s fun and messy and a little lost. The perfectionist in me begins to quiet down as I unlearn the misogyny that convinced me it was better to be nothing, to be silent, than to be less than perfect. I’m also unlearning the misogyny that made me distance myself from others to maintain an image of untouchable beauty and perfection. Cultural feminism tells me being myself, mess and all, feels better than self-protection. Loving someone for their humanness feels better than waiting to be perfect to be worthy of love.

So yeah, fuck yeah I’m a hot mess. I’m stoned as I write this. And the fact that I had to drunkenly climb through my bedroom window last night because I lost my keys again does not mean I am The Biggest Failure Ever. I’m a 19 year old girl who’s still sorting my shit out. And smoking lots of weed in the meantime.

So my conclusion, reached after a few bong rips and a brief period of reflection over a bowl of cocoa puffs, is this: Women are allowed to fuck up. We’re allowed to be lazy, goofy, stoners. We’re allowed to not know what we’re doing with our lives. 

It’s all gonna be okay.

[cruzvaldezphoto]

Niko and Blackbird for Color Study Zine shot by Cruz Valdez styled by J. Sims and Pierre Rashard 

[bunlly]

Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.

Kait Rokowski  (via oessa)

[vhs89]

[showstudio]

Polaroid from A Magazine Curated By Veronique Branquinho (Issue #6).

[thunderstruck9]

André Masson (French, 1896-1987), Portrait de Goethe, 1940. Oil on canvas, 80.5 x 64.5 cm.

[jinxproof]

Devon Aoki W Magazine (May 2000) ph. Craig McDean

[unstoppingdreamer]

[lunnule]

One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one’s head back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvellous unknown things happen until the East almost makes one cry out and one’s heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun - which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands of years. One knows it for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillneess slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then somethime the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure ; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true ; and sometimes a look in someone’s eyes.

Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden (via treesinbubble)