Archive for September 2005
Hoodies have been causing quite a stir here in Manchester this year. The local Chief Constable went so far as to refer to there being "gangs of feral youth" clad in said garments roaming the streets. That’s one response to them. Here’s another, from a street artist in New York :
In the Summer of 1994, the Brooklyn based artist Dan Witz wheat pasted over 70 life sized hooded figures in the Lower East Side of Manhattan.
Now ten years later, Dan has created a smaller sticker version of the piece. He says:
"I made these because 2005’s the 10th anniversary of the hoody piece. I thought it’d be fun to have a ‘meme’ to hand out. But of course it’s kicked up so much more… getting me to consider how much has changed since the mid 90’s. not just in the city culture but in street art. amazing…"
Clinton st. btw. Broome and Delancey. N.Y.C. 1994. Silkscreen poster on iron bridge stanchion.
The size of this man’s "cordless phone" is equalled only by that of the knife which the woman behind him is about to plunge, repeatedly, into his back.
Ad from the New Yorker, August 23, 1982.
E. B. White, from the Talk of the Town section of the New Yorker for Sept. 22nd, 1928:
About once a year the human soul gets into the papers, when the British scientists convene. Once a year the mystery of life, the riddle of death, are either cleared up or left hanging. The reports of the learned men enthrall us, and there have been moments when we’ve felt that we were really approaching an understanding of life’s secret. We experienced one of these moments the other morning, reading a long article on the chemistry of the cell. Unfortunately, when we finished we happened to glance into our goldfish tank and saw there a new inhabitant. Frisky, our pet snail, had given birth to a tiny son while our back was turned. The baby mollusk was even then hunching along the glassy depths, wiggling his feelers, shaking his whelky head. Nothing about Frisky’s appearance or conduct had given us the slightest intimation of the blessed event; and gazing at the little newcomer, we grew very humble, and threw the morning paper away. Life was as mysterious as ever.
If ever there was an artefact to wake a blogger from his hiatus, that artefact is the Complete New Yorker, which I have just acquired: every page of every issue from February 21st, 1925 to February 14th, 2005, on 8 DVDs. I have, as yet, obviously, barely begun to plumb the almost immeasurable depth and richness of this, but already I’m like a kid in a candy-store who’s just rushed out of that candy-store, pockets crammed, to stand on a peak in Darien. Think of it! Every James Thurber cartoon, every Talk of the Town piece by E. B. White and Joseph Mitchell, every Letter from Paris by Janet Flanner, every contribution by A. J. Liebling, every drawing, cover, and portfolio by Saul Steinberg…! And all for the absurdly cheap price of $100! (or less, if you can get it on discount)…
So far, my ears have been bent by a raucous piece about a bar named Dick’s by Joseph Mitchell (from the November 12th, 1936 issue: "While I never drink anything stronger than Moxie, I often go into Dick’s Bar and Grill to observe life, a subject in which I have been deeply interested since childhood.."), and by H. L. Mencken on spelling reform (from the March 7th, 1936 issue: "In the year 1906 of the present or Christian era, it looked to be a safe bet that before 1936 rolled around every schooolboy in the United States would be exulting and wallowing in the fact that, by the grace of God, the right way to spell tongue had at last become t-u-n-g."), And that’s not even to mention the continuing, 4,109- issue-long screed of adverts, which are a story in themselves.
Considering I have a photograph of the New Yorker Building on my mousemat, I couldn’t very well not buy this amazing thing anyway, now, could I?