In anticipation of the potential pay-cheques I may earn this summer, I have already started splashing out. This week I treated myself to a six-quid, s/hand copy of Get In (1998) by Kenickie. Such extravagance! I know, but I have been coveting this CD for years now... ever since I gave my first copy away!
This was one of the albums I was given to review, back in my student magazine days, and I can remember being quite hard on it at the time. The problem is that Kenickie’s debut, At the Club (1996), was such a stunning piece of work, that its follow-up had some pretty big heels to fill. They don’t get much play anymore, since Lauren Laverne became a TV presenter and DJ, but in their prime they could articulate the highs and lows of teenage life like no one else. They had wit, verve, sass, brass and strong, sexy Northern accents. In short, they had personality, and personality goes a long way. Sadly, at the time, I didn’t realise how short their life span as an ensemble would be... I assumed that the disappointing second album was just a momentary stumble along the road to glory, glory... I didn’t realise that it marked the beginning of the end. It’s suggested on the Wiki page, that their demise could be blamed on an ill-advised move to London... one might even say their careers “went South”, if one were in a punning mood. Whatever the reasons, there’s no denying that the band broke on a fairly sour, and acrimonious note, deflating before their fans’ very eyes. That, as far as I can recall, is why I ended up trading the album in... it was tainted, somehow, by the fallout that followed. Getting sunburnt whilst watching them lip-sync to first single ‘Stay In The Sun’ at a Radio One Roadshow probably didn’t help matters much either.
But now, in hindsight, I realise that even lesser Kenickie is better than no Kenickie at all... and by God, it’s a billion times better than most of the crap that’s being put out there for teenage girls to aspire to these days! One of the most frustrating things about Laverne’s career change is that I have to watch her interview artists who could never even hope to write a song as heartbreaking and heartfelt as ‘How I Was Made’. It’s like watching Tiger Woods ask for putting tips at a Crazy Golf course! So, with the passing of time, my admiration and adoration for her former band has grown and grown... and I’ve been mentally kicking myself for trading that CD ever since! Strange to find, now that it’s loaded into my computer for keeps, that I still remember almost every word of it! I can also understand how the electronic bleeps and bloops must have put people off, after the more rock ‘n’ roll ‘Punka’ guitar-thrashing of the first album. The trademark harmonies and humour are present and correct, but there’s something much more sterile and contrived about it somehow. I remember being especially suspicious, at the time, of the fact that there were less shared song-writing credits, although I’m not sure what that really proves. Overall, Get In is still a very, very good album... it’s major flaw was simply that it had to follow a truly great album.
It’s a crying shame that none of the Kenickie gals are making music anymore. I went to see Emmy-Kate Montrose and Marie du Santiago (dig those stage-names!) with their new band Rosita, and was thrilled to be able to stand a mere two feet away from them in the back room of a pub. But, to my eternal shame, I must admit that I never seem to enjoy live music very much, whoever is playing, and they never got around to releasing anything longer than a three track “EP”, so it’s hard to say if they had what it took to bear the baton. I don’t know if they’re all stills friends or not. I hope so. It’s a sad sort of story, really, with young friends forming a band, getting signed, and then breaking up as the pressure and the machinery grinds them down. But hopefully, as long as this planet and recreational technology exists, their music will live on in one form or another... and maybe someday their true genius will be better appreciated. They’re just too damn loveable to be forgotten.
Here's fun: Nightlife, from Top of the Pops!
Just to back up what I was saying about Thora Birch, here’s another Rotten Tomatoes-sourced graphic. It must be sort of depressing to see your career reduced to graph form... I guess mine would just be a continuous flatline!
Meanwhile, Ricci’s new flick Speed Racer, failed to even come close to Iron Man, in terms of box office and critical acclaim. Her overall aggregate career rating is also in the low thirties. Harsh.
This weekend I noticed a new review for an Ellen Page flick called Mouth to Mouth. It was made around 2004, but has been re-released on the back of her Juno buzz... assuming it ever got a release to begin with. Incidentally, she had to shave her head for the role, which explains why her hair is so short in Hard Candy, as it was just starting to grow back. She almost didn’t get that latter gig, because of how severe her ‘do looked when she auditioned! Anyway, Mouth to Mouth did not get a great write-up, and is classified as only 50% “fresh” at the Rotten Tomatoes review aggregate site. Really, it’s rather mean of them to go dredging up her old work... especially since I’m sensing something of a backlash, based on her more recent work.
I’m no cinemaven it’s true, and I can only go by vague “vibes” I pick up from comments sections, reviews and interviews, but here’s how I see it: Ellen Page is a fantastically gifted and talented young actress, with nuance up the ying-yang. She’s also quite short, petite and brunette, and is in severe danger of being typecast as the go-to “Acerbic Teenager”... and there’s no doubt that she plays those roles brilliantly, but by now she could probably play them in her sleep... to the point where she’s played out, if you see what I mean. I know Christina Ricci has commented that she feels her height holds her back, in terms of the roles she’s offered. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know... but I’d place Page in the same general category as Ricci and Thora Birch... her fellow “Enids”... and unfortunately Enids never seem to get the careers they deserve. There may or may not be justice in The Universe as a whole, but there sure ain’t any justice in Hollywood. I know this is an old gripe, but look at where Birch is now, compared to where Scarlett Johansson is! Come to think of it... where is Birch these days? Dammit!
Compounding Page’s “problem” (which may all be in my imagination, I admit) is the fact that almost all of her roles have been in fairly naturalistic pieces... either indie flicks, or pseudo-indie-flicks. The one exception to that rule is X-Men: The Last Stand, which she was apparently very reluctant to sign on for. And that’s a shame, because I think a “genre” film would be just what her career needs at this point... whether or not she thinks it’s “beneath her” (and there’s some evidence to suggest that she probably does), the fact is that it would help break the pattern of superficially similar roles we’ve seen her in. Also, genre fans are notoriously loyal (i.e. obsessive) once you’ve won their hearts, so it doesn’t hurt to have them on side... right? Granted Dungeons & Dragons didn’t do much for Birch’s reputation, but that’s about as bad as “genre” movies get. I think a full Kitty “Shadowcat” Pryde flick could be good for Page... as well as for her fans. As Robert Downey Jr. explained to Jonathan Ross recently, he took the Iron Man role partly because he wanted more than seven people to actually see his work! There’s no harm in being an Artist, and in having high intellectual standards, but... heck, even Crispin Glover did the Charlie’s Angels films! And why did he do them? For the money, plain and simple... so that he could continue to fund more personal, and “artistic” films to satisfy his own muse. There are plenty of performers out there who manage to balance the films they do for themselves, with the films they do for their bank balance. Life, sadly, is about compromise... or so I’m told.
Of course, it’s none of my business, and I know nothing. I just find myself caught in a frustrating dilemma where I love watching Page work, but simultaneously have no interest in the actual projects she’s pursuing at present. And if she insists on putting the fcking Moldy Peaches in another film, she might well break the back of my goodwill. But heck, why would FHM’s 61st “Sexiest Woman in the World” need career guidance from me? Answer: She doesn’t. But Thora Birch should totally call me.
PS. In the same newspaper supplements as the review I mentioned above, there was an interview with Hayden “The Cheerleader” Panettiere, in which she supposedly claimed “I know for a fact I have a higher IQ than 99 per cent of brunettes”. No offence, but I think that may be a slight over-exaggeration... or she's confusing herself with Ellen Muth.
And so, after an eight year absence, the TV show Gladiators has returned to our idiot boxes. Well, not mine, because I don’t get the satellite channels... but that hasn’t saved me from getting swept along by the hype... and by “hype”, I mean “photographs of athletic women in skimpy outfits”. Personally I stopped watching the show long before it was taken off terrestrial television, because it was so contrived and stupid. I love watching Athletics, but it has to be the real thing. I don’t need pumping theme music, unconvincing “character” interaction and whooping crowds with huge foam hands. I just need the genuine beauty of the human body in all its track-stomping, horse-vaulting, high-jumping, spear-hurling, mat-stomping glory. If they went for the same level of insane soap-opera as “professional wrestling”, then that would be a different matter... but Gladiators is far too generic and clean-cut for any of that. It’s unlikely, for instance, that necrophilia will ever be raised as an issue on the show.
As ever, being anal about things like this, the lack of thematic consistency with the Gladiators’ names bugs me, but I’ll try not to let it keep me awake at nights. A couple did make me chuckle though, and one in particular made me frown. First up is poor Shirley Webb, who gets saddled with the name “Battleaxe”. Now, I guess it depends which dictionary you look the word up in, because my computer claims the informal meaning is “a formidably aggressive older woman”, while Wiktionary adds “unattractive” to the mix. Either way, it’s hardly a compliment. If I was a “formidably aggressive” woman, I’d want a name that didn’t make people giggle every time it was announced. Another inspired move was giving Jemma Palmer, an improbably busty WWE Diva and “model”, the name “Inferno”... cuz, y’know, she’s hot. See what they did there?
Slightly more puzzling, or amusing, depending on how familiar you are with recent American history, is their naming a Black female Gladiator “Panther”. Hmmm... I can’t really put my finger on it, but something about that seems odd to me. I somehow doubt very much that it was intended as a tribute to Huey P. Newton and the cause of "black nationalism"... but perhaps this series is going to be edgier than its predecessors? If she comes on with a jaunty beret and an AK-47, you'll know what time it is! Meanwhile, how do I know the name wasn’t Kara Nwidobie’s own idea? Well, one website did little mini-interviews with the new Gladiators as part of the pre-launch publicity, and they actually asked Panther: “If you were an animal what would you be?” Her first answer was... “A horse or a tiger, something fast and strong.” Oops!
I’ve had a crush on Moon Zappa ever since National Lampoon’s European Vacation, and would love to bond over ice-creams with her some day (that's a reference to the film, not just random oddness). In lieu of that I dug up an old magazine article I’d once clipped (circa 2000?), about the Zappa daughters. I’ve no idea where it actually appeared, since I only have the page itself in my folder... but at least I can credit the interviewer and photographer, right? During the scanning process, I managed to put a new crease right through the photographs, which annoys me no end... but c’est la vie. Oh, and forgive any typos...
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Moon Unit Zappa, comedian, actor, artist and novelist, and her sister, Diva, musician. Interviews by Danny Scott. Photograph by Eva Vermandel
Moon Unit Zappa, 33, is the eldest child of the rock legend Frank Zappa. She worked with her late father on many of his albums and provided vocals for one of his biggest hits, Valley Girl, when she was 14. Moon lives in Los Angeles, on the street where she grew up, and has appeared on the West Coast as a stand-up comedian. She also paints, sculpts and is an accomplished actress whose credits include CHiPs, Clueless, Roseanne and Murder One. Her debut novel, America the Beautiful, was published recently. She has two brothers. Dweezil, 31, and Ahmet, 26, and a sister, Diva, 21. Diva appeared alongside all her siblings in the 1997 film Anarchy TV, and released her debut single, When the Ball Drops - featuring AI Gore's wife, Tipper, on drums - last year. She is currently working on an album.
MOON UNIT: If Diva and I were closer in age, I think there would be a lot more competition between us. She's 12 years younger than me, and I'm very protective of her. She probably thinks I'm trying to mother her all the time, but I'm just trying to give her some good advice. I'm trying to filter our some of life's crazy stuff. By the time I was 18, I had witnessed so many strange things and known so many strange people that I ended up taking myself off to the nearest therapist. I didn't know who else to turn to. In therapy, they talk about neuroses as any stage of development that hasn't been completed. I noticed several stages that I didn't seem to have completed. My parents were giving me lots of information to try and accelerate certain parts of my life, but I wasn't being given basic stuff - like a bit of care and attention. I was surrounded by my dad's complex music and very complex discussions about sex and politics, but I couldn't get anyone to do simple things like make breakfast for me or tell me they were proud of me. I was supposed to work out everything for myself. It was a house of freedom, but it was also a house of chaos. I just couldn't deal with my dad's music when I was a kid. I actually found it really embarrassing. He was singing songs like Why Does It Hurt When I Pee? Ugh! It was disgusting. I think all that openness just sent me deeper and deeper into myself and made me more repressed. Today, I still have trouble saying words like "pee-pee" or "horny".
When I was 14, I worked with my dad on one of his biggest songs, Valley Girl, but even that didn't bring me out of my shell. I had really bad skin at the time and I certainly didn't want to see my face all over the newspapers - all I could see was one giant talking pimple. It was all too early for me. It made me feel like I was living in a zoo. Having a name like Moon Unit just seemed to attract even more attention. I think the names were largely my dad's idea. He was about to go on tour when my mom was having me, and she asked him: "What shall we call the baby?" He said: "Let's call it Moon or Motorhead." At one point. I just refused to answer to the name Moon Unit - I decided to call myself Beauty Heart instead. I didn't feel that Moon was a weird name or anything, I just felt that it didn't suit the kind of person I was. In many ways Diva was lucky, because she always had me and my brothers to act as buffers between her and this very adult world we were living in.
Thinking back, I can remember being very excited when I heard I was going to have a baby sister. Up until then my life seemed to consist of me, my two brothers and a bunch of crazy loons. The night Diva was born was actually very scary. My mom went into labour a bit unexpectedly and she had to be taken away by ambulance. I can still see the trail of blood from the bedroom to the bathroom. Mom was very ill after the birth too, and we had a nurse in to take care of her. I was supposed to help look after Diva, but I was just a kid myself. One night, I was watching her sleep and I gave her a really good, hard pinch. Oh God, I feel terrible about it now. She got me back, though, by being a complete brat for about 16 years. She’s a Leo. Very blunt and direct. She would ask me things like, “Hey, Moon, when do you think your acne will clear up?", even when I was with my friends. Come to think of it, my brothers were just as bad. Who’s allowed to do that kind of stuff except a member of your family? I often wonder about how Diva’s going to turn out. She grew up in the same household as me, so how did those things affect her?
I’ve definitely noticed that she finds it easier to make friends with men than I do. And she doesn't put up with the same kind of sh** from boyfriends that I did in the past. I remember one time I was making out with this guy at his place, and he just disappeared. I didn't know where he was, so I started to get my things together and noticed a fresh period stain on the bed - and it wasn’t mine. I was so pathetic that all I did was call my mom and ask her how I should deal with this situation.
Diva would have been out of there like a shot. And she would have kicked his ass on the way. Me and my brother Dweezil were the ones who announced that my dad had cancer. It felt like we were letting the whole world down. He seemed to touch so many lives. Even now, people come up to me and just unload this huge amount of love. They can't tell my dad how much he meant to them, so they want to tell me. My dad was never very good at receiving affection. I know that he loved us terribly, but I think he found it all a bit overwhelming to be so loved by his family. One of the nice things I remember about when he became ill was being able to shower him with love for a change. He was so weak that he was forced to sit still and accept our affection. Diva bonded a lot easier with my dad. In fact, I was very envious of the time she spent with him. Once he was ill, he became very precious about time. I thought it would actually slow him down, but it just intensified his quest to say all the things that he wanted to say. Because Diva liked The Simpsons, she got to spend a whole halfhour with him every week watching it. I didn't like The Simpsons, so I only used to get about 10 minutes. Of course, I was worried about how his illness was going to affect Diva, but I didn't try and hide it from her. I suppose - very selfishly - I wanted somebody to go through the pain and the sadness with me. But I don't think it's wrong to feel sad. Emotion is like a thunderstorm - you should it pass right through you. It makes you more tender and juicy. It makes you more human.
DIVA: I know I've got a lot to live up to with a family like mine. Everyone seems to have such a brilliant talent that you feel you have to come up with something that's so different and cool to be able to qualify for the Zappa seal of approval. I'm probably very lucky in that not many people - apart from the real die-hard Zappa fans - know anything about me, I've not really had to grow up in the public eye, like my brothers and Moon did. I've actually been given a bit of space to concentrate on my acting and my album. I’m not what you'd call a real singer, though. In fact, I think all the musical talent was used up on my brothers. But I have my own distinctive flavour of bad music! Moon is incredibly talented. I was so proud when I read her book. I don't like to use a word like "jealous", but I suppose I am jealous of how amazing she is. I think to myself: "Maybe one day I can be like her." I’m just waiting for my own thing to explode. I don't know when it'll happen, but it will. I'll make it happen. If I learnt one thing from my dad, it's that you have to do things your own way; you can't sit around waiting for someone to make it work for you - you've got to stand up for yourself.
As a kid, I certainly felt that I had to try the hardest, because as far as Moon and my brothers were concerned I was the baby of the family. I used to hate it when they would go out to some club and they'd say: "You can't come, 'cause you're just a baby." I couldn't understand why they would never include me. But I guess I didn't help matters by being such a little snot. I don't know why I was so horrible, I just remember being a real handful around the house. But, hey, I took my fair share of beatings too. Isn't that what older siblings are there for? I remember having a mud fight with Ahmet and I was throwing, like, these tiny pieces of mud at him. So he decided to dig a hole in the garden and bury me. I had to sit there until he told me I could come out. Moon was terrible, too, because she always knew how to make me cry. We went shopping for CDs once and she was pretending she didn't have enough money to pay for them and she might have to steal them. Suddenly she turned round, screaming at me: "Run, Diva, the manager's coming." I just ran into the street, sobbing uncontrollably. She thought that was so funny.
Even though we fought, I always knew Moon and my brothers were there for me. I always felt very protected. And once I'd worked out that I didn't have to be such a dumb-ass all the time, we became very close, especially me and Moon. These days, we actually hang out together. Two years ago, that just wouldn't have happened. She hated having to spend time with me - that meant she had to look after her baby sister. Now I’ve finally been allowed to join her little club and we discuss things like friends rather than squabbling sisters. The first time it happened, I was like: "Wow, what's happening here?"
I know Moon got embarrassed by my dad's music - songs like Jesus Thinks You're a Jerk - but I love it. l thought it was hysterical. When my friends came over, I would ask them to put on Why Does It Hurt When I Pee? Those songs still make me smile. You have to have a sense of humour to listen to my dad, you can't take it too seriously. In many ways I think he was just a big kid, really; that's probably why I got on so well with him. My relatIonship with my dad was very different to Moon's. We bonded over stupid things, like cartoons and junk food. I often used to here him in the kitchen at 2am and go down to have a huge plate of chilli with him. He'd ask me to go get cigarettes for him and teach me how to make really strong espressos or how to tie a tie.
I guess I was too young to really understand what was happening once he became ill. I knew something was wrong with him - that much was staring me in the face. And I remember feeling really bad if I ever left the house when he was around. We used to watch The Simpsons together - that was our thing - but sometimes I just needed to get away from it all and go to a friend's home. I know I was pretty young, but I still hate myself for running away like that. I guess I could only take so much. I don’t think l ever really understood the whole idea of my dad being, y'know, a "celebrity'. Even now, it's very difficult for me to rationalise what he meant to people. He was just my dad.
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Note: As far as I know, Diva never did release an album... but Moon’s novel is still widely available. Diva recently appeared in The Mighty Boosh, but I haven’t managed to get my hands on the Series 3 DVD yet... hopefully I’ll pick it up after my B-Day next month.
No matter how much older and supposedly wiser I get, I always end up posting humiliating nonsense on the internets when I'm too tired (or sun-crazy) to censor myself. Oy! So, embarrassing faux pas and typos aside, I was very impressed last night to discover (via an unrelated Google search for various Zappa offspring), this "super-cute" photo of Diva Zappa, on a Vox blog. It's there to promote Worn Free T-shirts, a company which copies vintage T-shirt designs worn by famous musicians, and then recreates them for discerning hipsters like you and I to purchase. And if their Tees are good enough to grace the bods of Diva Zappa and Ellen Page, then (by crikey) they're good enough for anyone!
In other Zappa news (this, in fact, being the report that spurred the above random Googling):
"A bronze statue of Frank Zappa is to be erected in Baltimore in the US. A group of Lithuanian artists built a bust of the late musician in the capital Vilnius in 1995 and has now donated a replica to his home city. A Zappa fan club pitched the idea to Baltimore's public art commission, which voted unanimously to accept it. Lithuanian PR consultant Arturas Baublys said before the decision: "It's carved already, and it's ready to be shipped to the US. Whenever Baltimore says, 'OK,' and gives us an address to ship it to, we pack it and we ship it on our costs. And that's a nation of three and a half million giving a present to the United States." Baublys estimated the cost of creating and shipping the bust at around $50,000. The art commission is now in the process of deciding where to place it. Zappa died in 1993 from prostate cancer, aged 52. He had no known connection to Lithuania." - Digital Spy
In other, other Zappa news... Confessions (of a Deprived Youth), by Dweezil and Ahmet is still one of my favourite albums of all time. And 'Vanity' remains one of my fave songs of all time... can't find the video on YouTube, so I'm glad I have my own taped-off-TV-on-to-VHS-on-to-DVD copy to enjoy!
PS. See! I can spell "Zappa"!! Dammit!!!
Last night I watched Once Were Warriors, a 1994 film which tells the story of an urban Maori family, and their problems with poverty, alcoholism, and domestic violence. The opening shot is especially striking, as we’re first presented with the sort of idyllic landscape we foreigners are used to seeing in films like The Last Samurai and the LotR trilogy, only for the camera to pull back and reveal it to be a billboard beside a roaring motorway. Granted, Terry Gilliam did much the same thing in Brazil, but his dystopia was a fiction... while, in this case, urban Auckland is all too real. With my pig ignorant grasp of geography in general, I did have a little trouble reconciling the two visions of New Zealand... but then, as ever, Reality is often more of a muddle than a strict dichotomy, right?
The film itself is very engaging, but I don’t want to get into spoilers, and I don’t have anything very intelligent to say about the subject matter that is addressed... obviously films about domestic abuse can generally be quite dispiriting, and there are some heartbreaking, gut-wrenching scenes in this film, but it ends on a fairly positive note that is well worth sticking around for. Apparently there’s a sequel, with some of the same cast members returning (most notably Temuera Morrison, who’s probably better know to Star Wars fans as Jango Fett, and his multiple clones), but it isn’t quite as well known or well-recieved as its predecessor. Both films are adapted from a trilogy of novels by a chap named Alan Duff, but they deviate slightly from their source material, as adaptations often must. According to Wiki, Duff is of mixed heritage, with both Maori and European ancestry, and his work tends to show a bias towards the more “civilised” and wealthier whitefolk. I haven’t read the books, and have only just realised there are actual cities on the island, so clearly I’m not in any position to judge. From what I can gather, watching documentaries and reading around the subject of disaffected indigenous populations, it’s always something of a moral and political quagmire... and not something that ignorant foreigners like myself are qualified to be blogging about! Nonetheless, as far as “civilisation” goes, it’s probably worth noting this little nugget of history, from my computer’s encyclopaedia: “Europeans started arriving in New Zealand in the late 1700's. In 1840, the Maori and the United Kingdom signed the Treaty of Waitangi. It gave the United Kingdom the right to govern New Zealand, and the British the right to live there. It guaranteed the Maori ownership and control of all their lands, forests, fish, and waters. It also granted them all the rights and privileges of British citizens. The early British immigrants did not respect the treaty and by 1900 had taken almost everything from the Maori.”
Anyhoo, back to the slightly safer subject of surface details, I was particularly impressed by the tattoo work sported by some of the extras. I have a slightly anal, design-related issue with most modern tattoos, in that I prefer to see a clear and consistent theme, rather than a random sampling of styles and influences. I find it especially cringe-worthy when whitefolk get ink done in a language they can’t actually read... although I’m sure this is hilarious for the people who can read the tattoos, and know that some dumb Brit has just had the word “Potato” permanently marked on their body, where they wanted the word “Strength”. Clearly I’m no connoisseur, but I find the Maori facial markings (or Ta Moko) very beautiful, if not a tad intimidating... although that, no doubt, was the point back in old timey days. It fits the gang members perfectly, but raises an interesting question, as voiced by one of the central characters... should you wear your cultural identity on your skin, or in your heart? I’m not sure the two are mutually exclusive, as such, but you might have a harder time finding a bank job with a full facial tattoo... unless, perhaps, it incorporated the bank’s logo...
According to Wikipedia: “Receiving moko constituted an important milestone between childhood and adulthood, and was accompanied by many rites and rituals. Apart from signalling status and rank, another reason for the practice in traditional times was to make a person more attractive to the opposite sex.” And I can certainly see how that would work, as I was quite taken by the female gang-member who had her lips and chin tattooed, with the “kauae”. I think it’s a strong look, and I think it’s a good look... and what’s more, there’s a strong tradition behind it. “Tradition” is something of a mixed bag, of course... one could argue that the British Slave Trade, and the world-wide subjugation of women, were “traditions”, but that doesn’t mean we have to continue them, once we realise that they’re harmful and wrong. Still, some perfectly decent and respectable traditions can get lost along the way, as the pressure to Conform drains all the colour and variety out of various Cultures. You won’t catch me wearing woad these days, of course, but then there’s a definite difference there in terms of the artistry involved... and the pain involved, I presume. I’ve never had a tattoo and (to the best of my knowledge) I’ve never been a Maori, so this is all just subjective babble, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with appreciating Art where you see it.
...Are the loveliest people in the world!" Or something like that.
I never read this magazine, probably never will, and don't much care for weekly celeb gossip rags in general... but for some reason the news that Silverman has made their "100 Most Beautiful" list makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. The rumour is that she came 14th, which isn't a bad placing. She was also featured as one of the 18 celebs in the "sneak peak" list on their website. Eat that, haters!
Sigh. Sadly, in my crazy head, this means that she is now officially, objectively "Beautiful"... and I can't justify using her as the model for the main character in my comic book script any more, because it doesn't seem appropriate somehow... as a kickass former-assassin, I think my character needs to look a little "rough around the edges", so to speak. Granted Joan of Arc was supposed to be quite beautiful, besides being a proficient warrior... but in my head it doesn't fit, for some reason. It just seems too passe. Also, I was falling into the trap of stealing jokes from her sitcom, and trying to replicate her character, and that's not good. I wouldn't want anyone to think I was obsessive or anything! (ho ho)
Sorry, I was "refining" my "process", and gave it another try. This one turned out pretty well, I reckon.... but something odd happens to these pictures between my computer and Vox... they get a little blotchier than they should be, or something... I dunno...
Last night I watched A Scanner Darkly for the first time, and was very impressed. I have read the original novel, but it was so long ago, I was able to watch the adaptation without flashing back to the book. Great cast, combined with an experimental approach to the medium, makes for a very tasty artefact!
Anyway, I got to wondering just how difficult it would be to try to simulate the art style they used, and convinced myself that, using PhotoShop, it would be a relatively quick and painless process. I wasn’t aiming to make an image as good as theirs, of course... just to knock-up a cheap knock-off. As it turns out, it took waaay longer than I expected, but I think the end result is rather pleasing. To anyone who thinks it’s simply a case of taking a photo, and applying a standard “filter” to it, then slapping on some black lines... you’re wrong! As I found out to my chagrin...