Painting Is Its Own Demise
I had some thoughts for a post about the death of painting and the plastic arts qua high art, but I'm getting sidetracked by this ennui that presents a related theme. First allow me to get that out of my system, and perhaps tomorrow I'll lift my focus to loftier subjects.
Fashion. I never thought this day would come when I'm sick of it! I feel pretty confident that I own a little bit of everything - everything, that is, that is affordable or trend-significant, which amounts to the same thing, ie not totally wacky and undurable - with the result that I'm completely bored with looking for something new. My shoe collection is a great example: I've maxed out the possibilities for the kinds of shoe-statements one can make, and it has led to the very demise of the point of wearing shoes. Shoes are a category of ACCESSORIES - meaning, they're the bridesmaid, not the bride. You miss the Look that makes shoes so special when they speak too loudly. You can't wear bold clothes with bold shoes without looking like a crazy person, and since my shoes have continued to get bolder and bolder, by clothes have continued to get increasingly drab and monotone. And with that, I've killed the point of fashion. Fashion is no longer serving to enhance me, I'm serving to enhance my shoes.
The history of painting is a bit like that.
It's gotten to the point where I don't even want to think about self-expression or colors or moods or cuts or combinations anymore. Part of me just wants to put on black and white, and as long as I look skinny, mission accomplished.
The other problem is that I've been feeling like quite the scrub lately. I don't know what it is. Jeans and tshirts don't feel like what they used to be. And dressing up is harder too, perhaps because I'm getting to that age where hoochie clothes make me self-conscious. Or - and my intuituion leads me to this theory - clothes are actually getting hoochier, and it's crossing the line even for me. I've always considered myself an adherent of the old Destiny's Child principle (which Beyonce has since violated repeatedly) that if you show T (or stomach), you don't show A (or legs), and vice versa. Naturally I've long been one for the A over the T. But nowadays I'm hard-pressed to find designs that don't try to throw in some T even if the A is supposed to the focal point.
Last beef: I hate brown! I tried many times, and I've failed many times, and the truth is I just cannot feel chic, no way no how, if I'm wearing any brown.
Where does that leave me? I may have kicked my shopping habit. Amazing. I wouldn't have thought this day would come. It's a good thing too, since I have no clams coming in.
While I'm on the subject of things that are bugging me:
1. Never Been Kissed. It was on tv and though I've seen about half the movie before, I let myself watch it again because I have such a crush on Michael Vartan, aka Alias' Agent Vaughn. Let me tell you: that is one creepy-ass story. Every facet, through and through. The idea of adults infiltrating a high school and having a teen's romantic life with...well, teens! Brrgh. A teacher falling in love with a high school student. Creepy! Creepy! Creepy!
I actually have that dream quite often (lately) that I've gone back to high school, and even for me it's still creepy! But In my dreams, I'm always back to learn math...instead of, you know, doing inappropriate stuff. Huh. I guess the regret of that road not taken is tearing me up inside. My inner mathematician is weeping.
2. You Can't Take It With You. Starring Jimmy Stewart and Jean Arthur, a tried and true coupling. You'd think it'd be tolerable, but I got 5 words for it: boring boring boring slow interminable.
While I'm on the subject of movies:
Born Yesterday. Starring Judy Holliday and Bill Holden. Also slow and interminable...but not boring. I couldn't watch most of it because Judy Holliday's "dumb blonde" sqeaky voice was hard to take. But in spite of that, and the slowness, I gotta say I admire the story. Dumb blonde's tycoon fiance hires a newspaper man to make her smarter when they move to DC for business. Dumb blonde reads books, has a tough time because she doesn't know what any of the words mean, pulls through because newspaper man believes in her, slowly gets ideas about democracy and justice, realizes tycoon is a crook, falls in love with newspaper man, exposee, marriage. There are some great comic moments in which vocabulary and grammar and slang are the star (an odd coincidence to Never Been Kissed, but with very different, funny results), which I like, and I think there's something very high-jinxy about the road to self-improvement that makes the movie subtly enjoyable. Also, I love that archetype of the back-talking hussy one-upping her thuggish man, even when he beats and threatens her. It's the beloved tradition of Jean Harlow.
Fashion. I never thought this day would come when I'm sick of it! I feel pretty confident that I own a little bit of everything - everything, that is, that is affordable or trend-significant, which amounts to the same thing, ie not totally wacky and undurable - with the result that I'm completely bored with looking for something new. My shoe collection is a great example: I've maxed out the possibilities for the kinds of shoe-statements one can make, and it has led to the very demise of the point of wearing shoes. Shoes are a category of ACCESSORIES - meaning, they're the bridesmaid, not the bride. You miss the Look that makes shoes so special when they speak too loudly. You can't wear bold clothes with bold shoes without looking like a crazy person, and since my shoes have continued to get bolder and bolder, by clothes have continued to get increasingly drab and monotone. And with that, I've killed the point of fashion. Fashion is no longer serving to enhance me, I'm serving to enhance my shoes.
The history of painting is a bit like that.
It's gotten to the point where I don't even want to think about self-expression or colors or moods or cuts or combinations anymore. Part of me just wants to put on black and white, and as long as I look skinny, mission accomplished.
The other problem is that I've been feeling like quite the scrub lately. I don't know what it is. Jeans and tshirts don't feel like what they used to be. And dressing up is harder too, perhaps because I'm getting to that age where hoochie clothes make me self-conscious. Or - and my intuituion leads me to this theory - clothes are actually getting hoochier, and it's crossing the line even for me. I've always considered myself an adherent of the old Destiny's Child principle (which Beyonce has since violated repeatedly) that if you show T (or stomach), you don't show A (or legs), and vice versa. Naturally I've long been one for the A over the T. But nowadays I'm hard-pressed to find designs that don't try to throw in some T even if the A is supposed to the focal point.
Last beef: I hate brown! I tried many times, and I've failed many times, and the truth is I just cannot feel chic, no way no how, if I'm wearing any brown.
Where does that leave me? I may have kicked my shopping habit. Amazing. I wouldn't have thought this day would come. It's a good thing too, since I have no clams coming in.
While I'm on the subject of things that are bugging me:
1. Never Been Kissed. It was on tv and though I've seen about half the movie before, I let myself watch it again because I have such a crush on Michael Vartan, aka Alias' Agent Vaughn. Let me tell you: that is one creepy-ass story. Every facet, through and through. The idea of adults infiltrating a high school and having a teen's romantic life with...well, teens! Brrgh. A teacher falling in love with a high school student. Creepy! Creepy! Creepy!
I actually have that dream quite often (lately) that I've gone back to high school, and even for me it's still creepy! But In my dreams, I'm always back to learn math...instead of, you know, doing inappropriate stuff. Huh. I guess the regret of that road not taken is tearing me up inside. My inner mathematician is weeping.
2. You Can't Take It With You. Starring Jimmy Stewart and Jean Arthur, a tried and true coupling. You'd think it'd be tolerable, but I got 5 words for it: boring boring boring slow interminable.
While I'm on the subject of movies:
Born Yesterday. Starring Judy Holliday and Bill Holden. Also slow and interminable...but not boring. I couldn't watch most of it because Judy Holliday's "dumb blonde" sqeaky voice was hard to take. But in spite of that, and the slowness, I gotta say I admire the story. Dumb blonde's tycoon fiance hires a newspaper man to make her smarter when they move to DC for business. Dumb blonde reads books, has a tough time because she doesn't know what any of the words mean, pulls through because newspaper man believes in her, slowly gets ideas about democracy and justice, realizes tycoon is a crook, falls in love with newspaper man, exposee, marriage. There are some great comic moments in which vocabulary and grammar and slang are the star (an odd coincidence to Never Been Kissed, but with very different, funny results), which I like, and I think there's something very high-jinxy about the road to self-improvement that makes the movie subtly enjoyable. Also, I love that archetype of the back-talking hussy one-upping her thuggish man, even when he beats and threatens her. It's the beloved tradition of Jean Harlow.
posted by Rex at 11:27 PM
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