me melodia

cornucopia

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 14:51:00 +0000

This is what the inside of my gut looks likes right now.

Richard Barnes: Animal Logic Installation, Cranbrook

check out: Natural History, Not-So-Natural Setting

I whip my hair back and forth

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 14:11:00 +0000

I can't imagine a more appropriate, "welcome back" post than one about Hair Whips.

Émilie Voirin has created a range of whips, shaving brushes and trinket boxes made of hair. These beautiful handmade pieces seem objectionable, yet enticingly smooth. I am not one for whips or even detached human hair for that matter. (Floor follicles at a hair salon always give me the dry heaves.) But these objects luster and playfully comment on our relationship with animal hair and traditional materials.

I pluck out any stray wiry gray hair I spot on my head, but I'm surprisingly drawn to this salt and pepper trinket box. Voirin’s designs are available from Mint in London.
As seen lusciously draped over a dining table, not unpalatable whatsoever.

sea rats (lost in love)

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 12:51:00 +0000

Duke Riley
get into him

lots and lots o ginger hair

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 03:30:00 +0000

Alice Anderson

Totally Guilty.
I've been spending my free time looking at wedding blogs and not creating art or really doing anything of much merit.
Atleast this ESB posting about a girl who can pee on her own hair inspired me to squeeze out a post.

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 23:31:00 +0000

Iris van Dongen, The Seduction, 2009
Crayon, pastel, pastel, pressed charcoal, gouache o paper, 220 x 139 cm

"there are worse things
than being alone
but it often takes
decades to realize this
and most often when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than too late"

— Charles Bukowski

red, crisp WHITES & blue

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Sun, 03 Jul 2011 17:07:00 +0000

vintage slide: 1950s Archery ladies

Happy 4th of July weekend

the escape artist

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Fri, 01 Jul 2011 02:45:00 +0000

memelodia has been on a lovely and eventful sabbatical.

It's been months since I waved goodbye to my free time. Free time that had been previously dedicated to lurking on witty, design conscience web logs to instead plan my upcoming fall nuptials, squirt out some worth while artwork, intern at a gallery and try to keep a semblance of giving a f#@k at my real job. I waved long and hard to that precious free time... It waited patiently but eventually packed it's mismatched bags and left the scene.

It hasn't made me surly. I swear.

I really shouldn't complain about said free time taking a break. It's helped me appreciate those moments shared with my future hubbers and our wee chi.

After the wedding, honey mood planning and free time hopefully finds it's way back I'll resume being my flaccid old self who was able to spend hours prowling through your sites, pages, and catch up on your lives.

I miss my hens.

all images sourced (out of context) from my new favorite site: travelnostalgia

noodle brain

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 20:52:00 +0000

Shane Wilson Celtic Confusion

♥

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 15:26:00 +0000

perfectly sensible.

My most recent google searches:
Boston Taxidermy
Vintage carnival cutouts
puppy finder

source

piles and trash

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Sat, 09 Apr 2011 15:32:00 +0000

sandy carson photography

Recycle Plant, Austin TX.

(as well as the current state of my bedroom)

charting my brain

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 12:43:00 +0000

Celestial globes

linear topography

riding the crest

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Sun, 27 Mar 2011 20:53:00 +0000

Louise Bourgeois, 1944
“Drawing from the Modern: 1880-1945"

cease to resist, giving my goodbye
drive my car into the ocean
you'll think i'm dead, but i sail away
on a wave of mutilation
a wave
wave

i've kissed mermaids, rode the el nino
walked the sand with the crustaceans
could find my way to mariana
on a wave of mutilation,
wave of mutilation
wave of mutilation
wave

wave of mutilation
wave

-pixies

wasteland

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 01:33:00 +0000

humphrey spender

Pissing Sunday away.

fast

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 03:57:00 +0000

Bouché, Portrait of Mona Bismarck, Vogue US

❝Everything that goes into my mouth seems to make me fat, everything that comes out of my mouth embarrasses me.❞

-Gabriel Garcia Marquez

ˌsɛrəˈtoʊnɨn overload

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 00:12:00 +0000

Two Cats Fighting, 1826

John James Audubon, Oil Painting (1785-1851)

cabinet of wonders

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Thu, 24 Feb 2011 04:46:00 +0000

A full-size recreation of 17th Century naturalist Olaus Worm’s Wunderkammer Rosamond Purcell

ass appreciation

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 12:54:00 +0000

Donkey shelter

I was sick a lot as a kid and my parents bought me a donkey, named Suki, to cheer me up and get me out of the house.

And it helped. We’d play chasey, or tag, taking it in turns to run each other down through her bush paddock.

She was better at it than me. I’d be running like the world was going to end and within seconds I’d feel her pounding the ground behind me and feel her breath hot on my shirt and I’d glance over my shoulder and she’d be right there, shaking her head like she was laughing. That meant it was my turn to chase her and I’d raise my arms above my head, a donkey-eating monster, and she’d bolt off across the paddock. But as I grew older I didn’t spend much time with her. I was 16 and there were friends and movies and girls to worry about.

She got lonely. Sometimes she’d glimpse me up near the house and she’d honk at me, long and sad. Sometimes I went down to see her, but most times I didn’t.

She also brayed at a couple of donkeys at a neighbours place and eventually it got under my skin. I gave her to the neighbours so that she’d have some company. They owned a swampy block and a year or two later she was bitten by a snake and died.

A decade passed and I was working as a journalist at a community newspaper when a lady running a donkey shelter, Dr May Dodd, rang to say she was bankrupt and would be forced to shoot her donkeys because she couldn’t afford to feed them. She had made it her mission to rescue abused, neglected and tortured donkeys from around Australia and nurse them back to health at her sanctuary, Diamond Creek Donkey Shelter, and now they were starving.

Emotionally donkeys aren’t very different from people. They form loyal friendships, singling out other donkeys and volunteers as favourites. They have a sense of justice and know when they’re being mistreated – abused donkeys often arrive at the shelter with mental health problems. They experience anger, jealousy, happiness, sadness.

If more people knew that I think they’d treat them better.

by Andy Drewitt

time to get yer party hats

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 12:40:00 +0000

My fine little filly Parker just rode in to announce that I'm engaged.

It's just in time because I was really dying to have an excuse to buy her this mini mariachi hat:

Tiny sombrero interpretation of a mariachi hat. It is handfelted from fine, pure wool, then carefully hand embroidered, with shiny, golden metallic mouline.$33 via etsy

Exploding rat

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 00:10:00 +0000

Exploding Rat wishes you all a rad weekend.

The idea for the 'exploding' rat - now immortalized as legend - was developed in 1941. The aim was to blow up the enemy's boilers by lying the rat on the coal beside the boiler, with the fuse being lit when the rat was shoveled into the fire. They were never used, as the first consignment was seized by the Germans and the secret was blown.

source

safe > Lilo

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Tue, 08 Feb 2011 03:29:00 +0000

STUDS:
Giant Industrial Hobnail Safe

American, 1910 mantiques

VS.

I'll take a hobnail safe over a head-to-toe stud ensoumble any day.

thievery

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Tue, 08 Feb 2011 02:16:00 +0000

❝Don't worry about people stealing an idea. If it's original, you will have to ram it down their throats.❞
-Howard Aiken

matthias seifarth illustration

The Spinning Beach Ball of Death

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Sun, 06 Feb 2011 14:23:00 +0000

Colorwheel by Jonathan Whitfill

When I look at this I don't just see a cleaver little sculpture- I'm immediately reminded of all the late night photoshop frustrations and multiple Internet window interruptions.

The spinning wait cursor or spinning disc pointer — where your mouse pointer becomes the rotating color wheel or "spinning beach ball" — generally indicates that your Mac is engaged in a processor-intensive activity. For example, applying a Gaussian blur to a raw file photograph for a class assignment due in 2 hours in Adobe Photoshop.

In most cases, the "beach ball" disappears within several seconds. However, there are cases when the "beach ball" spins protractedly, a condition colloquially known as "The Spinning Beach Ball of Death" (SBBOD).

Occasional appearances of the beach ball can be expected. Depending on your Mac's current workload, even common tasks may temporarily overtax your Mac's resources such as browsing your boyfriend's 4k song inventory on Itunes or trying to open a youtube window from Dlisted while also browsing huff po for real news.

The first step in dealing with any SBBOD problem is patience: wait a few minutes to see if the issue resolves itself as your Mac balances resource availability against the demands of the tasks it is processing.

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 02:38:00 +0000

Zephyr of the Bay, 48"x63", chromogenic print, 2009

visit elise rasmussen

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 14:35:00 +0000

Life, like art, is better shared.

photo bomb: art basel miami 2010

Me and this lady shared a moment... even if she doesn't care.

bisou

noreply@blogger.com (me melodia) — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 01:45:00 +0000

❝Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need to know of hell.❞

-Emily Dickinson

Dear Internet Friends,

I have missed you. Fortunately, for me, this little devil has been keeping me warm and toasty at night.
Being apart from the internets has been hellish. Being apart from the internets has been glorious.

How has this time apart treated you?

Grosses bises,
Memelodia