Feeling Sanguine?

Bloody hell.
Yes, blood.
Let’s start at the feet.
I think I may have broken a toe, it looks bad. I’m trying to ignore it.
I keep hitting my right ankle on people’s elbows, so my right ankle is double its normal size. I’m trying to ignore it.
My left hip keeps clicking; I’ve been ignoring that for weeks.
I FINALLY got my period, which would explain my emotional state. Fucking shit.
Bloody nose in sparring last night, both nostrils, not very fluid, I think I’m dehydrated.
My first black eye from Muay Thai, not a very good one, looks more like poorly applied eyeliner.
I think my nose is definitely getting permanently fucked.

I trained with an insane woman last night, luckily in regular class, not sparring, so at least she couldn’t do any real damage. I really believe she is mentally unstable; it’s not the first time I’ve been stuck with her. She has very erratic movements, she has weird shifty eyes, she huffs and puffs all the time like she’s really upset, she gets visibly frustrated and tries, purposefully, to hurt me, which is dumb. She really should try another sport; she gets way too flustered with the boxing bit -the whole part about getting hit, which, strangely, is going to happen a lot in a …BOXING CLASS. I intentionally went very light with her because she is too out of control to handle regular impact; but going light also made her mad. It felt like being in a bad relationship: There she is getting upset, and I can tell, and I think I know why, but she won’t say anything, so I try and adapt to fit her, but that doesn’t work either, so I say, “Is something wrong?” and she says, “NO!!”. Christ, get me away!

It made me wonder, who the fuck am I training with everyday? You know? I mean, think about it, you’re facing a total stranger, trusting that they know what they’re doing, let alone trusting that they’re sane. I mean, let’s ignore the creepy weirdo woman for a minute, cuz I could spend yonks imagining what her problem is. But I know what MY problem is, I’m mostly sane, but even that’s tenuous. I’m obsessive, a grandstander, egotistical, aggressive, sensitive, and a crybaby for starters. Everyone’s got their axe to grind, and those of us who choose to grind it on someone else's head with our fists and shins, knees and elbows, well. Jeez.

My toe looks like a cocktail wiener with fluorescent pink nail polish.

Anyway, I’m nervous about the fight.

Temet Nosce.
Know thyself. There are other versions of the same phrase, but I like the Matrix so I use that one.
I have to know and come to terms with my shortcomings and weaknesses, as well as my strengths, in order to be a good fighter, let alone a good person –and I DO want to be both of those things.

So, Imma gonna tell ya what I’ve learned.

I’m a show off. When I know there’s an audience when I’m sparring, I get showy, hit harder, get pushy and aggressive. This is NO FUCKING GOOD.

I am emotional. If some human upsets me in my life, I carry it into the ring; it makes me weak (my period exacerbates this). As someone who tries, intentionally, to be impulsive and expressive with my emotions, I can sometimes feel like crying in the ring. THIS IS NO FUCKING GOOD.

I am a counter fighter. That means I don’t initiate so much, or play tricks, or defend, I REACT. For instance, the bell rings, I put a little gentle jab out, a little warning sign round house, but when they hit me, I come crashing back 10 times worse. I do this in real life. This is not necessarily bad, but something to think about. I think it works better in the ring than in the world.

Somebody needs to invent an ice pack that fits right on the nose.

My dad’s coming for an impromptu visit, he’s going to kill me when he sees how beat up I am. Heheh.

Pics to follow, when I get into the office.

SealedWithALovingKiss

-Mils

Young, dumb and full of fun.

Last week was an extreme week. We’re in a pretty needless legal battle, the details of which we can’t go into, but the situation is our first of its kind and therefore a little extra specially unpleasant.

On the more pleasing side of things, we went to see our adorable friends Jonathan, Sarah and Jared of We Should Do It All, speak at the Art Director’s Club as part of their duties as winners of the Young Guns Award. The panel was entitled Big vs. Small, WSDIA being the small, to BBDO’s big. It was incredibly interesting seeing what they shared and where they differed. Both were extremely precise, with exactingly executed campaigns, but the concepts and designs were polar. It was quite the exemplification of mainstream versus conceptual. The BBDO stuff was as you’d expect -TV bits for HBO’s Entourage, or print ads for Nike and Guinness that were super fast, very funny, slick and glossy. WSDIA presented stunning, beautiful, conscientious websites or interior architecture plans that still gave the instant gratification of a glamourous product but had a lingering, slow release of carefully considered ideas. They would take into account material, environment, interaction, palette, structure; it was a more unified application of marketing -more experiential.

It was very motivating for me to watch WSDIA speak. It was a reminder that there are other people, like Kate and I, taking a big risk, a leap of faith, to make a dream real. It can be very scary and very isolating to do what we’re doing. The context of the panel –Big vs. Small, was a reminder in the David and Goliath style, that small can definitely challenge big, if not very well knock Big on its ass. I was also very struck with their integrity, they work entirely for portfolio, not selling themselves just to work, it’s a luxurious position to be in, but one I aim to attain.



Saturday was the EP release party for Heloise and The Savoir Faire. I was feeling pretty tired and I can’t turn my head from a recurring Muay Thai injury, but since we shot the cover, I pony-ed up the goods and went anyway. The inimitable Todd Thomas is now designing costumes for the band, and Heloise was looking as glowingly stunning as ever in her fluorescent yellow cocktail dress. Because of the neck injury, I took up residency on one of the banquets and became impromptu coat check girl –which included minding Elijah Wood’s messenger bag, I’m intentionally dropping his name because truly, it’s surreal to look into those big blue eyes and think, “I’ve seen you wrestle with Smeagol".

Elijah was there because he signed Heloise to his label Simian, and since this new development good things have definitely been happening for the band at a super quick clip. Every time I see them they get exponentially better sounding, her voice sounds especially killer. Speaking of killing –Heloise and Joe Joe threw CDs out to the crowd and the very first one almost took Constance’s eye out, one hit my boob and everyone starting ducking because the CDs were basically Ninja stars, it was scary. Con has a big puncture wound on her eyelid. Nice gesture, bad idea.

I realise we’re always plugging friends here, and I thought, is that weird? And then I thought, no, everyone I know is truly special, and the stuff they do is interesting and creative and I’m happy to shout about it.

Late night thought: Watching South Park and seeing the Saddam Hussein character is eerie and feels sort of inappropriate now.

Sunday was awesome, after playing Doctor Milla and tending to Constance’s eye, we hopped on our bikes and rode to Red Hook. There’s a new garden centre right by the water, it’s in the middle of nowhere, nestled among junkyards and redbrick factory buildings. As you approach you see hibiscus trees and hanging baskets and they blast classical music and then you realise they have the most unbelievable view of Lady Liberty, we got there just as the sun was at its most epic -shafts of light carved in the sky from clouds to water. Around the corner is Steve’s Key Lime Pies. Steve was there; grilling lamp chops with his wife and cutie fat baby. We ate one of his signature mini pies, which is stuck on a wooden stick, dipped in dark chocolate and frozen. Yes, please.

Then we explored a bit more, and ended up and the Pioneer Bar B Q shack -I like to eat dinner after dessert, it’s my new habit. We had the best pulled-pork ever, and Constance kept beating me at Connect 4. It was a great day.

Kisses dudes.

-Milla

It is neither SHE nor ME

Kate is giving the best phone ever, RIGHT NOW.

Hilarious, describing the Kate and Camilla ego...

funny.

mils

Critical schmitical

Okay, so I think my new name should be Ranterella or Polemica, something like that. I’m always outraged, and I’m always outraged that I’m outraged. I prefer action to passivity any old day, and outrage, though elevated, is ultimately passive. So, it’s a frustrating situation I’ve created for myself.

The rant of the day relates to the recently released short list of Turner Prize nominees. I haven’t gotten through the list yet and I’m already confounded, annoyed and well, outraged.

First work I’ve looked at is Zarina Bhimji

Great name, interesting work, but Turner Prize worthy? Not clear on why. Whenever I’ve been able to, I always make it a point to see the Turner Prize winners in London, at the beautiful, regal, original Tate Britain. Last one I saw was quite a while ago, when the only photographer included was Wolfgang Tillmans.

He was certainly an innovator, his unusual, random, scattered, installation harkened to the surrealists, while his loose, erotic, intimate, imagery challenged the formality and beauty ideals of the then current Photo Lords: Jeff Wall, Cindy Sherman, Gregory Crewdson et al. He was a controversial selection, but look at most popular art and commercial photography today and it’s directly traced back to him.

Lets get back to Bhimji. Empty spaces have long been a favourite of grad school art projects, vacant lots, off-season swimming pools, derelict homes, and on and on. Some have done it better than others, and though originality is not the only marker of creative achievement, in my opinion, if you’re going to revisit a well-used concept, let the crux of your work rest on a familiar trope, then there must be an element of reinvention.

I don’t see that in Bhimji’s “Love” series. I don’t see the creation of a new object, or a reformed beauty in the object either. And if the value in her “non-narrative imagery” lies in the narrative surrounding the subject matter, then I see it more as a journalistic record. Photojournalism is totally valid too, and maybe the risk that the Turner Prize is taking, is by aggrandizing that medium.

Vented. Released. Relieved.

Okay, now I need to look at the other artists.

XO

Milla

Goings on, accompanied by snaps of everyday light extravaganzas

So, I promised to do it, but I didn't go to the opening, I suck, I know, Hermit Milla won't come out from under her rock until I'm good and ready. Maybe spreading the word will make up for it? My super fab friend Phoebe is pals with William Stone, and with his show's title of "Let's Subtle Down Together", I'm bound to love his work too since I just love brains that appreciate puns. Anyhoo, it closes soon, so check it out.

In other art news my dear friend Eso has a gigantor steel sculpture up in Red Hook, and yes, I suck, I hermited out of that opening as well.

And Mr. Schuster, charming Photo Editor of Mass Appeal, is co-founder of The Humble Arts Foundation. The last show of theirs that I saw BLEW ME AWAY! I haven't been so excited about photo in a while. I encourage you to attend their exhibits, both online and real. Rumour has it they're seeking out a gallery space, which would be wonderful.

Lastly, my pal Joel who runs Guernica is having a cocktail hour this Thursday at Gallery Bar. His literary magazine is a lovely, thoughful, enlightening creation, take a peek.

Our intern arrives today. She's cute cute cute, but Kate and I are going to have to get used to having someone else around. It's going to be a big old learning experience for all!

Loving the weather!!

Milla

Do you really want to hurt me?

Ever have one of those days where your brain is so full of thoughts, a constant barrage of ideas and connections that it all feels like too much? I’ll try and walk you through this as coherently as I’m able.

I’m fascinated with the idea of female violence. Kate and I were talking on Friday about our violent impulses. I’m not even sure I can admit to you what went through my head, I could barely tell Kate, but I did. It was weird; it had to do with a crying child and me punching...........it. Okay, I said it. Hate me if you want, judge me, it’s easy to do, I am a little ashamed of it so that shame, it’ll make one vulnerable, anyway, I know I have enough self control not to punch a kid in the face. But I have to think for a moment, about the flash: a sudden, vivid, out-of-the-blue image that was primal and unconscious and made me shudder; and as repellant an image as I found it to be, I have to acknowledge that my brain was responsible for it.

So, I’m kickboxing, most everyday. I think about it all the time. I fall asleep imagining combos, I shadow box to the mirror to study my form, I spar twice a week. I have a bruise on the bridge of my nose from where I keep getting hit. One of my sparring partners popped my cherry – gave me my first full-on, free-flowing nosebleed. I pissed a few people off yesterday, literally not aware of my own growing strength -kneed a girl in the gut so that she couldn’t breath for a good long while, punched a pro fighter in the head so hard she came right back and gored my kidney with a sharp left hook. Violence. I choose to submit to it on a daily basis. But, it is controlled, it is a meditation, it has rules, it is not the biting, scratching chaos of a street fight. It is not the murderous assault of a psycho killer, but it is, nonetheless, violence.

My therapist tells me my eyes light up when I talk about boxing. There are probably only 2 other things in the world that excite me as much.

I learn so much from boxing; its parallels to life are absurd they’re so obvious:

Getting angry gets you nowhere.
Hit too hard expect to get hit back harder.
Escalation isn’t wise.
Observe, consider, and strategise before you act.
Be daring but not reckless.

You get the point.

I watched Lady Vengeance last night. A film by, Park Chan-Woo, also the director of Old Boy, another really excellent, twisted film. Lady Vengeance has dodgy spots, but for the most part is a pretty rare and special story. I would rather you find it and watch it then tell you too much. Anyway, the brutality, particular to female sensibilities, seemed expertly depicted. There is a particularity to female violence, see any case study of female serial killers and you’ll see how their pathology is always essentially female. Even the way women commit suicide is particular to women – we tend to kill ourselves in clean ways, private ways, with overdoses or poisonings, usually with the thought of sparing those who will find us (or so I’ve read from the experts who study such things). Men are more brazen, less considerate, choosing guns first and hanging second, not at all concerned with the aftermath of their decision.

So, the creative culmination of such unresolved ideas is, of course, a photograph. Above is an early exploration of ours into this idea, but Kate and I have long flirted with the idea of The Tableau and at dinner, last Friday, after my shameful admission, we toyed with the idea of a new photo project depicting some manifestation of female violence. Not aggression, not hysteria, not masculine emulation, but a specific, essential feminine ferocity. Something physical, not necessarily psychological, something powerful and empowered but not political per se. How to capture it all in a picture? Not sure yet, but we’ll figure it out.

Camilla

I'm happy with this life, thanks.

Kate's just discovered Second Life.

It's already driving me bonkers.

But you can fly in that world and it REALLY looks like dream-state flying.

That's something.

Everyone complains about TV. It's uber cool not to watch it, but I think we're forgetting about the computer screen's brain sucking power.

More on this later. Someone just carjacked Kate's SecondLife car, she's freaking out...

Mils