Francis Alys - Fabiola (2008)
“The story of St. Fabiola, a 4th-century Roman aristocrat from the Fabia family who is supposed to have been an early Mother Teresa, became popular in the late 19th century, and an 1885 portrait of her by a French academician (which is now lost) has since been endlessly copied around the world.
Appearing on postcards, posters and religious trinkets, Fabiola has been a beloved subject for countless painters, most of them amateurs. The portrait’s format is almost always the same: Fabiola is seen in profile facing left, her head covered by a rich red veil.
Mr. Alys, who was born in Belgium in 1959 and moved to Mexico City in 1990, began collecting Fabiola paintings—as the genre is called—about 15 years ago, buying them at thrift shops, flea markets and antiques stores primarily in Mexico and Europe. He has previously shown his collection three times, when it was much smaller; the current presentation includes more than 300 works.”
(via wnycradiolab)
hail mister face
When I first got to Seattle, I took a walk around my new neighbourhood, Greenlake, to get to know the place. And by that I mean I went and found the nearest fro-yo shop. As I was rounding the corner back to my house I saw the most glorious thing sitting on the sidewalk: that cat, right there. That glorious, weird-faced cat. He came right up to me and we had a cuddle and I made sure to take a picture. Mostly because how can you verbally describe that face, am I right?
I went inside and was all, “So, Lauren, there’s this weird looking cat.” And she’s all, “The white shaved one with the face?” And I was all, “YEAH!” That’s how that conversation went. She told me that he hangs around the neighbourhood and is super friendly.
After that, every time I left the house or came home, I was hoping to run into the cat again. When I went out the other day for a walk (read: to get fro-yo), he was across the street chillin’. Maybe a little bit of illin’. (I have no idea what that means.) But this time he had a name tag.
AND IT SAID “MISTER FACE”.
Holy shit. That may be the most perfect name for that cat. I can’t even… Ugh, too good.
Anyway, I think Mister Face should be famous on the Internet. He’s obviously way more fantastic than all those other Internet cats (sorry beloved Grumpy Cat and Lil Bub, but it’s true). The only problem is that I’m afraid of Reddit. And everyone knows Reddit is how cats become famous.
So somebody who is not afraid of Reddit should post some pictures of Mister Face so he can become famous. Then when people are all, “Excuse me, ma’am, could you hold the elevator for me?” I can be all, “Um, I discovered Mister Face. What have you done?” as the door closes in their face.
THIS IS A REAL CAT. Those photos were all taken right outside my old house. Isn’t it incredible?!
Sky Cats
(my monthly cartoon for Emirates Airlines Open Skies In-Flight magazine)
as i woke this morning, i couldn’t remember her laugh. in my hypnopompia, i couldn’t remember if i’d ever even seen her laugh. if she was still able to laugh by the time i was born. i could only remember her gaze.
“oh, she’s looking at you! she always reacts to your face.”
“must be my weird hair,” or “because i’m so funny-lookin’”, or something, I’d say, half to myself.
but i’ve always thought, inside, it’s because she could really see me.
and i don’t know what she saw, or understood, but in those moments, i’ve never felt proud.
it might be the haze of grief, but fully awake, i truly can’t remember the last time i saw her laugh. and the last time i ever even made her smile is an absolute mystery. did i ever? i hear a laugh in my mind that i think to be hers but there is no face tied to it. i wonder if it’s something i imagined from a poem or saw in a movie and tied to her, a phantom memory creation, to enforce a flimsy recall. or something from one of my dreams where she was magically cured. walking, smiling freely, playing with me.
i do remember all the coins i threw, all the candles i blew, and all the wishes attached to them.
“i wish she would be better”
as if it could happen that easily. as if it was even plausible.
as if the simple toss of my hand or heavy sigh of my breath, carried by shallow “good intentions” would compensate for my absence. i didn’t know what to do, how to comprehend, and could only hide.
while she was trapped.
A crested caracara (Puma - Unsichtbarer Jäger der Anden)
Jupiter embroidery - done! My own design, loosely based on a series of photos by NASA showing the Great Red Spot devouring nearby little spots :-) Chain stitch in cotton, silk and specialty threads.
Edit: because I’ve had so many queries, I’ve blogged about this piece, here: http://www.pardalote.net/makes/index.php/jupiter-embroidery
[And it’s not knitting. Hopefully this picture helps explain that it’s thread stitched onto fabric, ie embroidery.]
