“the Random House Treasury of Best-Loved Poems”…
There was a young lady of Ryde, Who are some green apples and died;
The apples fermented
Inside the lamented,
And made cider inside her inside.
By anonymous
Graceee
My ears are glowing, my ears are glowing, so are my cheeks, I don’t know why, but they’re glowing and toasty.
This happens a lot.
Graceee
Went shopping at Sogo department stores
Death by Marc by Marc ensued,
Saw the hello kitty Mickey D’s bryanboy posted about on his trip here,
(guiltily craved some fat hot fries)
Saw a bunch of hipsters and scarily skinny girls,
Ate at Din Tai Fung, the famous xiao long bao (think steamed mini buns) place below Sogo Fuxing,
Lurked nine stories up and watched chihuahuas hump while two sexually active teenagers sucked face in the dim dark wicked corner,
Walked more than a dozen blocks home,
Almost stepped on a cockroach in my shoe, then screamed bloody murder,
And slowly got over the death of my dealing hard drive.
Also rediscovered and revived my love for Gaga,
And delighted in the raunchy seriousness of jeremih’s “Birthday Sex”. Unfortunately, mother yang did not approve.
Side note: never ever did I say these were in order.
Side note: may be overwhelmed with shapely eyebrows and fake eyelashes.
Side note: blue contacts on brown eyes look repulsive, not only because of the flat, muddy color but also because of yellow skin tone.
SIDE NOTE: I’m flying home tomorrow, and will viciously reverse sneeze sweet Seattle air into my homesick lungs.
Love,
Graceee
Rabble, rabble.
I am loving David Bowie this week… dancing in his dunes of music.
Graceee
Actually did something actual today: visited the Taipei Fine Arts Museum, and then skipped to the side afterward to visit Shilin Night Market for din-dins. Took all day; at least, whatever was left of the day after I woke up.
The Museum was small as far as museums go, but the exhibits were awesome– more modern than fine arts in my opinion, but I’m sure they take what they can get. There was the Philadelphia traveling exhibit “From Manet to Picasso” featuring pieces from various established European artists (i.e. Matisse, Degas, Van Gogh, Manet, Monet, Picasso, Miro) and impressive exhibitions from several Taiwanese artists. We were also lucky to catch the Jean-Paul Gaultier exhibit on the ballet/fashion show Le Defile, featuring Gaultier’s pieces for 12 modern ballets (1983-1994) by collaborator and choreographer Regine Chopinot. Ballets included “Le Defile”, “Delices”, “K.O.K”, and “Soli-Bach”.
A little about the two:
Jean Paul Gaultier was never formally educated in fashion, but was recruited by master fashion designer Pierre Cardin (I WILL post on this wizard soon!) at the age of 18. Most know him through Madonna, when he designed her costumes for the Blonde Ambition tour in 1990– coned bras and what-not.
Regine Chopinot is a French choreographer; she collaborated with Gaultier on 12 ballets that were “anti– fashion/dance” in an avant garde– er, fashion.
... "horny"?
A list of things I spied while perusing the costumes on display: a cloth-sculpted clitoris, cloth-sculpted penis, pillow penis, cut-out tux, cone bra, ribbon-beehive headpiece, a fringed lampshade ballerina skirt, gold spray-painted flower-sculpted sneakers, leather bomber jacket studded with aviator sunglasses and pierced with key chains, knit-couch costume with knit skirt and booties, a bride’s costume consisting of a mesh upper torso, ruched jersey tunic, and long jersey skirt with a beehive wig topped with bride and groom cake tops, and sculpted costumes made with thick, layered textured tulle. There was a quilted body suit, tulle sculpted boots, medal-adorned chaps, and beaded nipples.
As sexual as it sounds, the surprising amount of partial-nudity and obvious exaggeration of genitalia facilitated the viewing of these pieces as costume art; obscenity was marveled and hailed as craftsmanship, especially when blatant and confronting. Little girls were dancing around their mothers and gazing at whatever there was to see, and their mothers whispering “Now think of how they made these, honey…”– art is funny like that. Proves that any societal norms or rules can be suspended, depending on people’s perspective of context…
Anyway, here’s some clips of the ballets– you can definitely sense the “anti-fashion” and “anti-dance” baffle you, but the aesthetic is wonderful enough to keep you watching.
Le Defile:
Unknown
And some pictures I took outside of the exhibit:
Cointreau-papered disc-hat
Fully knit couched-hip costume plus knit skirt and booties:
Tulle sculpted thigh-highs:
Detail on back of a costume-jacket:
There were several rooms in the Mobilité, sons et formes exhibition from the GRAME Centre National de Création Musicale that were enchanting:
A room ornamented with delicately turning panes of glass painted with gold notes, rigged with tiny echoes of speakers tinkling the slightest notes to the attuned ear.
A room filled with sand became a textured and engaging projection screen for a video featuring a girl dancing her own pattern into the sand-floor. My favorite room by far– people were coming in but for some reason weren’t up to actually dancing and pushing the sand with their feet, sinking in with their toes: they wouldn’t even take their shoes off. Michael and me ended up wrecking it everywhere, dancing and twirling with the girl’s projection, sometimes violently sliding all over the place, through the projection and back, making rows of dunes across the screen, while everyone else watched from the side and gingerly nudged the sand with their shoes. It was so obvious the point was to dance or make your own design… but everyone was so meek…
I wish I could find out more about Thierry de Mey, the artist, but to no avail– for once Google has failed me.
By the time we got done with everything, we were well-famished, and made a bus stop away to Shilin Night Market. Shilin is so old, it has it’s own food court. The area that used to be the night market has been entirely converted to food stands and vendors, and the local specialty is oyster scramble and tian-bu-la. Which we devoured; dessert was even more delicious– gourmet mochi.
Most people in Seattle know of mochi at least in the ice-cream sense; the sticky rice-paste covered ice-cream (mango, vanilla, mango, green tea) can be purchased at any self-respecting Asian grocery. The mochi is traditionally filled with red-bean paste, peanut-butter, or black sugar. We visited a stand at the Shilin food court that served them hot and delicious: baked mochi lends a crunchier outer crust to the sticky, pasty consistency. The black sugar dish had the sugar sauce hot and drizzled over the mochi and the red-bean mochi was served in a small bowl of red-bean soup (sweet). I’m usually overwhelmed by the stickiness, but this place was spectacular…
YummRz!
After that, I went shopping, bickered with my brother, and headed home on the MRT.
Dunno what I’m doing tomorrow, but I really need to send some postcards out…
Graceeee
ps aaahhh new pants
Need season 7 episodes asap.
Graceee
I daydream about ridiculous ideas, like how life naked would be better or worse.
I’m still not sure about that one.
I also wonder whether I am an intro– or extro– vert; I love company, but I get tired of them so easily, or bored. I’ve refused to go hang out with le fam today, so the punishment is starvation (it isn’t, but I’m too lazy to go to the ATM by myself). Which brings me back to the first point: if i were alone, I probably wouldn’t be so lazy in feeding my appetite, and I would have the option to hang out naked. I’m not saying I would (I’m leaning toward clothing right now) but the fact that my options to do what I want is restricted drives me nutso.
This is all irrelevant. I’m posting some stuff in my sketchbook that I’ve done this past month and some here in Taiwan.
The first time I play with the new pencils, my drawing is literally retarded:
Saucier:
I was in such a bad mood once that I started drawing everyone in the cafe as devils…
I drew a picture of me holding Sultan, the kitten I had for a month:
Playing with markers…
…and some doodles…
Graceee
Friend teacher? In this case, friend first, inspiration – sempeii second. Christine Hahn is a kick ass photographer. There are a dictionary of words I can employ, but NO GOOD: look at these and die.
Die. Of inspiration. Hope will seep out of you like sweat from a birthing cow. And you’ll like it.
Some of my favorites, my cream of her crop:
Graceee
Assisi, Italy
It sucks to see other people’s pictures of vacationing in Europe, it’s like I want to scream “I’VE BEEN THERE; I’ve tasted gelato, I’ve kicked those cobblestones, I’ve seen those columns, I’ve posed in front of those buildings”, and then I realize that it doesn’t matter, because tourism is just an industry rendered magical through stories; histories, perhaps, but time passes everywhere just the same, and everything ages just as fast. And then I remember I’m in Taipei, and that not too many people choose this as a destination for two months of their lives– but being human, I cannot help but ache for the place-I’m-not-at, Seattle, Washington, America…
Knowing that even upon my return, spells of boredom will hit me just as hard. Wait; except I’m going on a road trip with an awesome friend and we’re going to ride all the roller coasters possible…so maybe not.
Also, I’ might be karaok’ing tonite with my fam +grandma +cuzin. Let you know how that goes… lolz
Graceee
Let me paint a picture for you.
My entire family. In the basement studio downstairs. It is 10:48 AM. My dad had taken a shot of red wine for health’s sake, and settled down with some adhesive gel pads and electrocution therapy; his entire leg is convulsing under his supervision, all in the name of healing. He is pleased and fit to purr.
Vivaldi is floating through the room, riding on the cool current of air; my mom is rocking on a small ottoman meant for a rocking chair, as she and Michael drudge through his Chinese homework. My sister and me are on the couch, on our laptops. Surfing away.
The stock market blinks pink, greens, and greys on the television screen.
So this is what it’s like to spend 2 months in Taiwan with your family. The pelvic pudge that silently waves at me in the mirror when I’m in the shower is the only evidence that time has accumulated… ohh, maybe that was too graphic…
We’d otherwise be the mall rats of Taipei 101. We played the roles well at least thrice last week.Yesterday we got stuck in an elevator of Mainland Chinese men, and got dragged to whatever floor they wanted to go.I would have loved to take a picture of their hairy moles, shared haircut and wardrobe, but the feeling of being cornered and smothered by so many strange bodies so obviously unfamiliar to me in mind and history had me paralyzed.
Anyhowzer: some quick snapshots of whatever it is I’ve been doing…
Some heat exhausted puppies at the Shi Lin nightmarket…
A Dior display mirrored upside down…
Shelves of tasty baked things…
One of many typical Chinese tourists…
A lonely security guard,
Some awesome astro-shoes,
An original helmet design…
and an apparent safety zone
It’s strange how relative height can change so much attitude. I feel so empowered, standing a head above most other girls…
<3
Graceee