Well, was there anything to say crap like big since the last Once I posted on this blog?
If, of course, tons, well, like "national identity is an important debate," or even larger.
But between the time that passes the speed of light, like when Han Solo is farting hyperspace with the Falcon, and a kind of supra-acute flemmingite, I must admit that I could more easy to rant bullshit on facebook (damn, but what time cleaner, that stuff ...), as taking the time to post something a little more constructive here. A little more, I said! Not worth it to panic, either ... I'll keep the pace Unnamed nonsense there, the network of the devil, and will try to keep my rare bursts for a little less stupid here, for the weeks to come. What do you mean I already said that tons of times? Yeah, okay, huh.
However, out of the question too go on, and on the meanders by which seems to pass that serves as my life. A few minor surprises, good and bad, have done this year, which ends one year odd: neither hinge nor dramatic, nor revealing, it was a period so unusual that it's hard to know if I am glad it stops, or if I 'm lucid enough to guess that what happens behind should not raise the level. What he said, already, the type of Queensbridge, in 94, about life, that bitch, all that? Well, whatever.
I had an idea cheap, of lazy I'll try to post some photos that better than I will summarize the last twelve months. Oh, I know what you think, but just imagine that this blog, I'm far more to my face as yours, whoever you are, do not take this wrong so far, huh! All the better if you find your account from here, but honestly, we agree, you and me to say things to do, to read before coming here, there's a package. Then top hearts, and stay realistic: I'll post some pictures, so to me is an ideal complement to the agenda paper which will join his elders in the box provided for that purpose. Yes, I stayed on the agenda paper ... I know, I know: all phones offer a digital version now, and very practical, Yeah, okay. Ben say that over time I spend on my laptop, I am authorized to commit indecency killing trees in woods. To each his own, I like to look for three hours moultes my pen and insert bits of paper in what I use calendar.
And it is the paper. With
paper, we make books.
And admire the transition, I just read a damn good.
New Jim Woodring , which appear to Association in January, is a long story a hundred pages, which will delight fans of the world of bearded Seattle. As
since few years, there is some new avenues of influences, some new desires of the next guy, who after taking the time to install the incredible universe of Frank (who made his recognition, despite his many previous works), fun for some time to shake a little ...
Oh, nothing that would destabilize the fans of his little world that gives the impression of being constantly full acid build ... In " Weathercraft ," this new book, the trip is indeed still there, but as always, it would be damn reduce the scope of work Woodring of just such an impression ... Central to this new narrative, once again, the many paradoxes woodringuiens typically appear gradually, as and when the course of history. And this time, over almost a hundred pages, it Manhog , aka the Man-Pig, which is followed in these new wanderings ...
Once again, the nice and cute Frank will indirectly affect the existence of this poor creature is man-pig, which is sure to blame, as usual, full mouth during most of the book. And as usual, as in all stories about Frank is a real life learning proper form and rubs the central character of "Weathercraft. Manhog face his destiny, with all that that implies. But should we really expect a final end to physical and psychological torture at the raw violence he endures as usual?
What amazes the most is once again the strength of the world posed by Woodring, cohesion perfectly mastered. The laws governing the small world of Frank and Man-Pig becomes logical, consistent, everything is absolutely unexpected but as and when events occur, the improbable given way to order, a kind standard. The rules in this universe, seem increasingly confined within a perimeter posed by the author, whose perimeter is not really considering the contours before rested the book, yep, thinking that eventually, everything fits so much in the head (and books) of Woodring ...
From "The string lutes" (published in Japanese Presspop but available in "Frank's real pa", published two years ago to The Asso chop in the collection), I like the impression that Jim Woodring takes pleasure in weaving things a tad more complex, more ...
This new book in black and white leaves Woodring dig further certain types of shadows, reflections, he allows himself to try more things with the volume ... As usual : This class.
For us French (and even though we must remember, these stories are dumb) is that before leaving Fantagraphics in the U.S., the title will be available "at home", from January to L Association .
And for just a small component that snaps well's mouth, published by Woodring on his blog:
much for Woodring. The guy is not so much books as that, count on me to make large signs with their arms as soon as it happens again ...
And then a little snooping, I understand that a beautiful book was released, containing full beautiful things. Basically, this is a retrospective consistent pattern of anti-war, anti-militarist, with tons of illustrations and strips from all eras, all countries, and collected by Craig Yoe , who knows a bit of crap like that ...
Inside, the heavy, my good lady of watercolor and ink, brush and pencil, a little of everything, but not anyone since Yoe gathered over two hundred pages of things Francisco Goya, Art Young, Robert Minor, Winsor McCay, Ron Cobb, Honore Daumier, James Montgomery Flagg CD Batchelor, Edmund Sullivan, Boardman Robinson, William Gropper, Maurice Becker, George Grosz (Berth, if you read me ...), Gerald Scarfe, Bill Mauldin, Art Spiegelman or Robert Crumb .
The book covers two centuries of expression of opposition to the war, and what was not my surprise to come across a reproduction of a drawing by Louis Raemaekers , a Dutch illustrator (1869-1956) I ' I recently discovered by chance by buying a small notebook on a flea market at Ile de Ré this summer.
Returning from this friendly residence, where I had not done for much except the bike (with gradients close to nil, the Ile de Ré thank you, exactly what I needed), I took the time to dig a little work and the life of man, and correct me if I plant, but there is not much available of this type, apart from a handful of books that kind of time cybercriminals trying to make me pay an arm or two ...
Well, let's be clear: Raemakers also is the big class.
But I come back, because there would be many things to say.
So much for today.
Oh no, a little of what flatter the retina through some research that qualify nicely personal, I recently had the time to look more closely at the work of Joni Sternbach , a photographer known for his photographs of surfing around atypical, but who has more than one film in his camera, oh hell, it is good one want.
I encourage you to browse on its site, and possibly go listen to the interview she gave to Chris Orwig . When I told
I find the poster that has spawned Blutch to Angouleme frankly not terrible, I think I said everything.
So, I think I will not go in the Charente this year, though, and you agree because you are nice, it is very sad. Well, the truth is that I'm broke as wheat. And then it goes a while, the Charente, Pineau, packets of Kleenex which spin at the speed of light ... Hey, it still? It's time I go to bed.
Hi.
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On Air is RadioJune:
- Celestial Blues "is a classic (or should I say a HUGE classic) of pure spiritual soulness signed Gary Bartz and sung by the great Andy Bey (1971), that I listen since I was a cop 45t straight out in Heavenly Sweetness : Same as version Chickenwing All Stars.
- Ramsey Lewis "Kufanya Mapenzi ( Blackjoy edit).
A classical Ramsey Blackjoy sauce, the kind of tracks where I say "oh my god but not touch Ramsey, Ramsey at least not in that time," and in fact he does so well that AC goes alone. Black Joy!
- my guys Dada listening stuff, often unshaven types squeaky on their guitars (ca long as it is understood that the noise, I was pretty averagely my cam, or very very occasionally, when I file stuff softer), and sometimes, well, that's great, thank you for giving me dada foisted Woods (obviously do not pass on me "is something I missed his exit, I had to be in the bathroom):
Woods "Where and What are you" super bonnard. And then it also would:
- Mr. Blundetto should no longer delay we swing a debut album that should not slam the face to many people. Surrounded by nothing but the cream of current ( Hindi Zahra, Budos Band, Tommy Guerrero, General Elektrik, Lateef, Chico Mann ... gonna go?), Its understanding of a whole spectrum of good music producer makes him a rare and precious, unfortunately too little known. After a handful of mixes who put everyone agree (and rocked my summer, but it's a detail), one expects the baby out with impatience for having listened to recently (hin hin hin), I put a lot on this record when it comes out!
My faves: "Voices" with Hindi Zahra, a dub of complete insanity, which would weep a limestone quarry, "Cuban shirt" stinking reminiscences post-west-london not deny that Dego analog, and "Mustang "Low-fat afrofunk with killing New Yorkers the Budos Band.
BIG BIG COUSIN SLAP!
- Sarah White, not to be confused with the Sarah White rather folk, nor a porn star in the name quite similar, is a young nenette I'd like to hear more stuff.
His "C Train" is a nice title that gives the color somewhere on the side of the whole wave of singers post-nu-soul, who grew up listening to soul diva discs of the big time, and who grew up with Jill Scott, Erikah, and so on, while being tempted by the flights of Musinah or Georgia Anne Muldrow, who knows ...
- Tor is a producer who had fun playing with the latest Sufjan Stevens, by dialing a long-format hip hop give me presqu'envie listen to the original (me, Sufjan, ca me quick shit when I tried to listen One of his first skeud ...).
And then a track with Grand Puba can not be a bad song, vindzousss!
"The Tallest Man / I Like It" (f. Grand Puba) ".
- RIP Vic Chesnutt (01/01/1964 to 12/25/2009) .
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PS1: Dear Santa, you have been a hell of a fucking stingy this year, but I'd like swollen you cast the first stone (I'm too broke to offer I know what my relatives, even my very very very close), I remind you that the Yanks carve wide, very wide and I'd settle for a size M for the Star Wars Storm Trooper hoodie by Marc Ecko (once Unusually, the last time I gave the dough to this guy, it was in 94, true).
Or the X-Wing Pilot, must see.
Cimerès to you.
PS2: a kiss for my post William Long, who, while he was taking any side burst level of popularity thanks to his blog on LeMonde.fr, just to take a tile across the face, tile, which I am sure, will be remembered nothing but a bad time. We laugh but we laugh sushi in all this?
