Lichtenstein make-up
The french are especially good at not giving a damn what impractical or ridiculous outcome their creative drive might translate into. I have seen older, artsy type women shopping in St Germain
with something akin to this look and no sense of irony at all, and God help me they looked kind of beautiful. When art and life coincide like this pop art makeup scheme here I am always thrilled, I love the blurring of boundaries and when art mutates and translates and evolves, and when a piece inspires a complementary art work that's both the same and different.
My friend, let's call him "pretty in red" because that's the moniker he gave himself, a weird choice for a huge straight guy but hey who am I to judge, said he found my writing to be Sex-In-The-City suicidal. I'm not sure how I am supposed to feel about this revelation, but in an effort to be not so SITC-wrist slashy I am going to stay away from relationship stuff, and anything angsty. For about two seconds. I think the whole point of pouring out your soul in an anonymous blog is that you don't hold back, you are as honest as your hosts allow you to be, and as truthful as you dare to be in your navel gazing. Pretty can stick to his football/IT/Thailand flying turtle blogs if this cat ain't doing it for him. Art in its very nature forces us to be self-reflexive, think about beauty, which takes us to emotion, and love and all the good things I like to gab about.
"Cat Among the Pigeons"
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