Symphony in Brown

Because my beloved co-workers are in the office today I am wearing an EXQUISITE ensemble in brown.  A symphony in brown.  (A symphony of ugly, more like)  And because my beloved Stella is in the office today I chose a terrible shirt to amuse her.  I have already done my hideous Liz Lemon dance to amuse Catherine.  I am on co-worker amusement fire today.  I am living to make others happy, and it is making me happy too.

Mr. Cereal is having a tough day at work.  And I have a plan to make it better later.  I'm really excited about that too.  I don't want to spoil it, but it doesn't involve a symphony in brown. 

Speaking of brown, it always makes me think of Lewis Mumford's book The Brown Decades:A Study of the Arts in America 1865-1895.  Mumford was, of course, a student of Patrick Geddes, the subject of my thesis.  Mumford had a problem with the way Geddes taught, as illustrated in the way Geddes would take people (specifically Mumford himself) through the Outlook Tower, showing them how to see Edinburgh through it. 

It's an interesting idea that Geddes was so insistent on showing people how to see things the way he saw them.
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Soup Shoes

Today I was musing on my old soup shoes.  They are somewhere in my closet at the moment.  Since I am no longer sitting at the front desk, I no longer have to wear dress shoes to work.  Instead I wear sneakers most days, adding a touch of insanity to even my most normal outfit, and making the crazy ones look that much more dressed-in-the-dark-baglady-ludicrous. 

Good old soup shoes.  They were the high point of some of the outfits last year.  They were so named because one shoe had a slight stain, probably from some soup.  They made me look more homeless than usual, especially when paired with ugly trousers.  I looked like someone had dressed me out of a Salvation Army charity box.

I like my sneakers better, mostly because they are comfortable and help my feet stay warm.  I must be getting old, all my fashion is so clearly based on warmth and comfort.  And I now own about 80 scarves.

(source)

sans tube tops

Thanks to the Goodwill in Clarksburg, WV I have expanded my ugly shirt collection!!!

I LOVE a good butterfly collar.  LOVE THEM!

Now, I have a theory, and since I am technically a doctor I can say it's scientifically proven, though it is only scientifically proven in my own brain.... My theory is that my love of ugly clothes stems from my being a child of the 70s.  I grew up in ugly clothes.  My parents, and my parents' friends wore them.  I love them!  MORE PLAID, MORE POLYESTER!!! POUR THEM IN MY CLOSET!

 This is the combo of shirt and trousers. The trousers are green, fake wool, and subtly herringbone.  My whole ensemble today is a symphony of green, except my shoes.  Same sneakers as always, only these are brand new, and look exactly like the old ones.

Maybe there's something safe about these clothes, something comforting.  Maybe my ideas of what is beautiful were formed when I was a kid and now I can't undo them.  I remember dressing up in my friend's mom's clothes: tube tops, and sparkly gold lame, and things like that.  Her mom was so glamorous to me... and now here I am (sans tube tops) wearing things my mom may have worn.

I was not only influenced by the 70s, though.  The 80s had their input too.  And I blame Barbie.

This Barbie to be exact (source).  I had an aunt in the 80s who wore stuff like this, and to me was super glamorous and grown up and awesome.  Oh, and 80s movies! Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, all John Hughes movies, really... Is it any wonder I wear what I do?

But here is the interesting part.  Though I love ugly clothes, they are not usually what I would choose to wear, if I had a choice.  I own normal clothes, sophisticated and simple clothes, made of natural fibers.  And I love them.  I would wear them all the time if I could, they're beautiful.  but somehow I end up in the ugly clothes again and again.  Maybe it's because I am not wild about my job, and this is one way to make it more fun.

Cabinet of Whimseys and Joseph Cornell

As I am trying to build my own work inspired by Joseph Cornell, I found the link below to be particularly interesting.

Anonymous Works: Cabinet of Whimseys: Rare as hell. A cabinet of 13 different folk art whimseys made by a man named Charles B. Gardiner.

I am a bit lost on how to start with my boxes.  I have acquired two types of boxes, so I'm good there.  All I need is what goes in them.  Building up a repository of junk should be easy for someone whose friends and family have lamented their very under-appreciated ability to collect treasure.  (Hey, it's my blog, I can describe my skills in glowing terms!)  But my boxes aren't about junk, they're about expressing an idea.

Whenever I think of Joseph Cornell I think of Audrey Niffenegger's The Time-Traveler's Wife.  Not the film, which I refused to see on principle, but the book, which I loved.*  In the book Alba describes how Cornell must have made the boxes (particularly with the birds) because he was lonely and wanted company.  I found that idea intriguing.  That, combined with the idea of Clare making tiny paper sculptures in her tiny studio in her's and Henry's first apartment made me think in terms of creating a discrete world, a box which could contain an expression, an idea, a feeling.

 (above images, and the one at the top, from this source)

But the idea didn't start (or stop) there. It was also inspired by the work shown below, The Cabinet of Curiosities, from the Smithsonian Museum of American Art.  Then it veers into ideas of authenticity (being inspired by Cornell, how can make sure that my work is authentic and not merely a copy?).   And then my brain goes into overdrive with ideas and problems and how to implement all my genius ideas into reality.  I don't have enough time... or is it that I lack willpower?

It's taken me forever to finish putting this together explaining my ideas.  Lack of willpower?  Confusion?  Too many ideas?  Need more ginko?  I just don't know.

I'll let you know how it goes on the boxes.

*I made a good friend over his hatred of the book.  He called it "trite", but his phone's predictive text changed it to "tripe", which I thought was funny.

Note: Serendipity! Found this without looking for it!  Look at this!
This is what I think my insides look like, particularly  my brain and my heart.  This is beautiful.

Anonymous Works: Four-legged Stool

I like to image what sort of babies this stool would have if it bred with a claw-footed bath.

Anonymous Works: Four-legged Stool: Sold at Fontaine's for $1,200.00 (w/o premium).

Bear with me

Wouldn't you like to see a film about a bear who fought in World War II?  Well you probably won't any time soon.  Sadly.  Here's the story.

And since we are talking about bears and how they're awesome and can do awesome stuff like drink beer and carry ammunition... Well, then you HAVE to know the story of Potapych, one of my all-time favourites.  I ADORE HIM.

Take your friends to parties, but don't let parties take your friends.

trousers can be deceiving

Today's trousers: from this photo they look awfully normal.  I look awfully normal. 
Luckily, these trousers are deceiving.  I have Helena Bonham-Carter-eqse (HBC) hair (though it is admirably tamed, sort of) today.  It is Bride of Frankenstein hair.  It is epic.

And though I have had my V8 AND all my vitamins, I have pre-caffeine face.  A lot.  Strange hair, strange face, normal trousers.  It may be a strange day.

The apparent normalness of my trousers reminded me of something I came up with this summer: the ugliness of the elastic waistband of your soul.

Oh, and in other news... I seem to have a boyfriend.  Yep.  I have reacquired my beloved Mr. Cereal.  No more excruciating first dates for the foreseeable future.  I am ecstatic.  Not over the lack of first dates, which is great, but because I genuinely love Mr. Cereal.  And he does not mind (and indeed enjoys) if I talk about genocide, Stalinworld, etc.  I am a terrifically lucky girl, even if only for a brief time.  And I am happy.