Beautiful, erotic, phantasmagoric, the films of Kenneth Anger are a national treasure. Mick Jagger, Jimmy Page, Marianne Faithfull, Anton LaVey, and a parade of other 60s luminaries collaborate on this selection of short films. They range from rich mystical imagery and visual essays of psychedelic color to insider documentary footage of bikers and a glittering love letter to early black and white film. Bring blankets, picnic dinner and drinks for the lawn. Please join us under the stars for this very special screening with one of our most legendary filmmakers.
Sunday, July 19th
Hollywood Forever Cemetery
6000 Santa Monica Blvd (at Gower)
Gates 7:30 pm movie 9:00 pm
$10 donation tickets available at gate
Parking available inside
My husband found this curious poster taped on a telephone pole in Los Angeles. I’m not exactly sure what this fellow wants, other than to meet some fly white, Asian and Latina ladies to help him with “things.” Apparently he likes rapping and playing chess. We at Dangerous Minds wish him the best of luck with his future endeavors.
Update: A savvy Boing Boing commenter points out that the guy’s a) prolific b) known.
|The Colbert Report||Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c|
Our friend Douglas Rushkoff made an appearance on The Colbert Report last night. Way to go, Doug! Great show!
Last year I had the pleasure of meeting Jon Saemundur Audarson: in Reykjavik, Iceland (after the economy collapsed, but before the government did). Jon runs a clothing line called DEAD out of his storefront and studio tucked just off Laugavegur, Reykjavik’s main drag. His clothing line is great stuff, often featuring his logo?a skull surrounded by the mantra “He who fears death cannot fully enjoy life” in one of several languages. I bought one in Sanskrit. He just opened a storefront in New York, as well, and his clothing has popped up in the least likely of places on Quentin Tarantino, for instance, who is a fan. Check out this Dazed Digital profile of him, and his MySpace, which is loaded down with his music as well he has recorded with the likes of the Brian Jonestown Massacre, and performed at the Glastonbury Festival.
Diagnosed with HIV in 1994, Audarson has become furiously prolific. His studio, which he graciously gave me a tour of, is something like a Tibetan lama’s temple crossed with the coolest punk you know’s jam space. It’s littered with skulls, ravens and copious reproductions of Jon’s logo, which he considers a “thought virus” which he wants to seed the world with, even going so far as to consider worldwide hot-air balloon trips flashing the logo.
Check him out in the above video performing “Golden - Frost” with the Brian Jonestown Massacre, which he contributed to their recent My Bloody Underground album. His screed against hypocrisy and greed is in Icelandic, but the message comes across clear in any language.
I remember vividly when this cover story from New York magazine originally appeared just three weeks after Andy Warhol died. As a New Yorker myself at the time, it truly felt like it was the end of an era and this article really brought the point home for me. I kept it for years and for all I know, it may still be sitting out in the garage.
After Warhol died, New York’s fabled nightlife took a nosedive (there were other factors, too, of course, like AIDS). It wasn’t like you’d be able to see Warhol at a party, a fashion show, a night club or a restaurant ever again and think to yourself “Oh, Andy’s here. I must be in the very best party in the world tonight.” That was what Warhol’s stamp of approval meant to New Yorkers. His presence made you feel cool. I met Warhol several times. When I’d tell people I was going to move to New York City, they’d ask me what my plans were and I’d say “Oh, you know, meet Andy Warhol, hang out at the Factory and something cool is bound to happen.” I actually believed this as an 18-year old!
And as fate would have it, on the very first night I spent in New York, at an opening party at the Area nightclub, the infamous homicidal club kid king, Michael Alig asked me if I’d like to meet Warhol. “Sure!” I replied and Michael proceeded to shove me—HARD—into the artist, nearly knocking him down. Warhol just shrugged it off and blamed Michael anyway as he’d seen the whole thing go down. After that incident, I’d run into Warhol every few weeks and I’d see him (usually with Cornelia Guest) often at Limelight, the nightclub where I was working. But when he died so suddenly, I can’t stress this enough, it was like a pall had come over the city. It was a real turning point, for me anyway and New York would just never be quite the same ever again.
The first sign that there was something wrong with Andy Warhol, that he might be a mortal being after all, came three weeks ago. It was a Friday night, and after dinner with friends at Nippon, he was planning to see Outrageous Fortune, eat exactly three bites of a hot-fudge sundae at Serendipity, buy the newspapers, and go to bed. At dinner, though, he felt a pain. It was a sharp, bad pain, and rather than let anyone see him suffer, he excused himself. And as soon as he got home, the pain went away.
“I’m sorry I said I had to go home,” Warhol told Pat Hackett a few days later as he narrated his daily diary entry to her over the phone. “I should have gone to the movie, and no one would ever have known.”
In fact, no one remembered. And if anyone suspected trouble, it was dispelled the next week by Warhol’s ebullient spirits at the Valentine’s dinner for 30 friends that he held at Texarkana with Paige Powell, the young woman who was advertising director of Interview magazine by day and Warhol’s favorite date by night. Calvin Klein had sent him a dozen or so bottles of Obsession, and before Warhol set them out as party favors for the women, he drew hearts on them and signed his name. On one for ballerina Heather Watts he went further, inscribing the word the public never associates with Andy Warhol: “Love.”
The World of Warhol by Jesse Kornbluth, from the March 9, 1987 issue of New York Magazine.
Three cheers to Jolis Paons for designing this absolutely beautiful and clever paper dress. Jolis says:
For my Creative Processes class I designed and made this paper dress purely out of phone book paper! I pleated, stuck, sewed, and glued everything by hand.
Thanks to David for assistance/singing alongness.
Despite the fact that his albums sit atop the Italian pop charts for half a year, every year and go platinum five times over, outside of Italy, few have heard of camp superstar Renato Zero. In some respects, Zero could be said to be the inventor of glam rock. He was, you know, just being himself long before Bolan or Bowie ever put on eyeliner or platform heels. He even had a punk name long before Sid Vicious or Johnny Rotten!
So flamboyant that he makes Freddie Mercury (or even Jobriath Boone) seem positively macho, Zero has steadfastly refused to either confirm or deny that he is gay (as if there would be much doubt?) throughout his now five decade long career. Often called “The Emperor of Rome,” he’s still a huge star today, performing spectacular concerts that would make Madonna jealous. Ladies and gentlemen, take a look at pioneering Italian mega-performer, Renato Zero!
1977 performance of “Mi Vendo.” This was my own introduction to Zero and it was a startling one, I think you’ll agree:
Renato Zero performing “Triangolo” in 1978 and rocking an outfit to die for!
Live, rather elaborate performance of Prendimi
Responses to the Pentecostal jibber-jabberings of preacher and plagiarist Kenneth Hagin typically range from snickers to eye-rolling, but cast aside (out?) your preconceptions for a moment. Strip away the possible, okay, PROBABLE cynicism lurking behind Hagin’s curtain, and what are we left with? A group of people in a room HUNGRY FOR A WAY OUT—transcendence, beyond the limitations of mind, flesh, or state. Seen in this (admittedly stripped-down) light, how much do Hagin’s communal fumblings towards ecstasy really differ from those of, say, Beck and Malina’s 60s-era Living Theatre?
I couldn’t find much information on German group New Production Goes to Munich’s 1987 hit “Tippen Ein.” But, for all you Tim and Eric fans out there, I think you’ll really love this twisted synthpop masterpiece. Genius.
Here’s a link to a live version of “Tippen Ein”