Theatrical

I've decided that I'm going to run off and join the circus.

I kind of miss the pageantry of it all... and the peanuts.

Haven't you ever wished to thumb your nose at gravity and hurtle through the air?

Or maybe just get clowny with the kids?

I suppose it might be old fashioned to dream of big top escapism, but I'm bored with restricting my grown up fantasies to white washed spas and hotels.

I've been working my ever loving ass off, and this weekend I'm not going to touch my damned computer. At all costs I am going to avoid the tv, aka demon box thief of time. I think I might repaint our bedroom furniture in a really bright, glossy shade of green. And maybe I will sign up for trapeze lessons here. I like to get high...

On life. Duh.

[Teatro Franco Parenti, Vancouver Circus School, Gene Simmons]

Hiroshi Sugimoto

Long ago, in a far away land, as a naive student working in practical isolation I made photographs of natural history dioramas only to discover that someone else had done the same thing years before me. Then I made simple black and white photographs of the ocean, only to discover that someone else had already made them (and much more elegantly). In short, Hiroshi Sugimoto is my photographic father. His work pokes at the root of my twin concerns: time and perspective. He's also a prodigious badass with almost four decades of experience making pretty pictures. The decor world has taken note.

His theater series was shot by exposing an entire movie on a single sheet of large format film. The result is blinding, as if every neural synapse has fired simultaneously. The architecture is stunning -- a reminder of a bygone era, and although these images were largely shot in the 70s, they seem to presage a time when the collective viewing of a film has passed. The sense of loss is palpable.

The seascapes may be his best knows works. Reduced to the singular properties of water and air, they are visually calming but intellectually startling. As Sugimoto points out, the probability of existence for these two elements -- responsible for our evolution (or devolution) -- is mind bogglingly slim. And yet we search for another planet just like ours.

And then there are the waxworks. In a perfect imitation of Flemish painting (itself meant to conjure a perfect imitation of life), Sugimoto condenses the life and death of history's most important personages into a single split second, frozen like flies in amber. The vast majority of us have never known these people save through reproduced evidence. A photograph, much like celebrity, keeps us at arm's length.

Most recently, Sugimoto has composed a body of work that hints at the core nature of analog photography.

Using Van Der Graaf generators and Tesla coils, Sugimoto records each electrical impulse making its way across a piece of large format film. This reminds me of how I destroyed my graphing calculator in high school physics class (Tesla coil + expensive calculator = angry parents), but more importantly it gives hope to us anachronists.

Maybe film won't go extinct.

There may yet be a reason for me to bust out my ancient large format camera and toss a black hood over my head.

[David Netto, Peter Marino, Elle Decor, Nero Chronicles, MFAMB, photo of Sugimoto via NYT]

Jazzy

ONE day of daycare and I already have a snot encrusted kid batting big, glazed puppy dog eyes at me... needless to say the bloggy might get short shrift this week. Not to fear -- eye candy is still coming your way. Without my witty repartee, you'll just have to insert your own comments. Feel free to share them with me. I like reading your thought nuggets. Without further ago, check out this gorgeous place designed by antiques dealer Florence Lopez.

The color palette reminds me somewhat of the brazilliant room designed by Emily Henderson in her inaugural episode of Secrets of a Stylist.

You did watch it, right?