Archive for the ‘Image Craving’ Category

Rav Kook in London

September 16, 2018

Who wouldn’t want to attend a seudah shlishit with R. Kook?  (Even I would, and I––don’t tell–-don’t love SS!)

Late in the day on Saturdays, Rav Kook would hold seudah shlishit––the third meal of the Sabbath––in the Hasidic style, with singing and evocative homilies.  The meals brought him an eclectic group of followers: Hasidim and intellectuals, East End Jewish radicals, workingmen, pious Jews from Leeds and Manchester as well as from all over London.  On th eShavuot holiday nights, as he had in Jaffa, he would stand all night at a lectern, lecturing on Maimonides’ Book of the Commandments and the roots of jurisprudence.  During zeppelin bombings, he would stand by the door of the communal bomb shelter in Chaikin’s basement, the better to see anyone wandering in the street and call them in.  When they were all safely inside, he would, in a mix of prayer and pastoral becalming, sit and recite, over and over, the six verses of Psalm 43: Grant me justice, O God, and wage my struggle with a faithless nation, from a man of deceit and injustice save me…

Also, how lovely is this?  (From Rav Kook himself.)

When I lived in London, I would visit the National Gallery, and my favorite pictures were those of Rembrandt.  I really think that Rembrandt was a tzaddik.  Do you know that when I first saw Rembrandt’s works, they reminded me of the legend about the creation of light?  We are told that when God created light, it was so strong and pellucid that one could see from one end of the world to the other, but God was afraid that the wicked might abuse it.  What did He do?  He reserved that light for the righteous men when the Messiah should come.  But now and then there are great men who are blessed and privileged to see it.  I think that Rembrandt was one of them, and the light in his pictures is the very light that was originally created by God almighty.

Agreed!

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Princess Diana’s Burka!

August 30, 2018

I know it’s sort of lame to publish two image-only things in such short succession but YOU HAVE TO SEE this sketch for the BURKA Princess Diana was contemplating wearing on an official visit to Saudi Arabia!

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Honestly this is super cute.

Also I love how the Telegraph article is like “it has emerged” that this is what she was thinking.  This information just popped up and was deemed relevant or somehow interesting more than twenty years after her death?  Honestly, who cares?

Theresa Duncan’s (Missed) Yahrtzeit

August 29, 2018

So this is truly embarrassing, but I had it in mind to write something acknowledging the 10 year anniversary of Theresa Duncan’s death, and I thought it was somewhat recent, but then I Googled it just now and saw that it was actually LAST summer.  This is what having an infant/toddler will do to you.

Anyway, I wanted to memorialize the summer of Duncan’s passing, which of course, being twenty-three at the time, I made into a commentary all about me, but obviously I’ve missed it.  And so did, it seems, everyone else: there was no gossip-y Nancy Jo Sales piece, no memorial service at Saint Mark’s Church, no biopic from Brett Easton Ellis playing at my local Alamo Drafthouse (although I’ve always thought the story was better suited for avant garde opera, no)?  There was a pretty good essay about it by a writer named Patricia Grisafi, although clearly not timed for the anniversary; there was nothing specifically mentioning the anniversary on her mother’s blog homage (blomage?) to Theresa, but then again, maybe she doesn’t mark the anniversaries the way us Jews do.

And also, maybe there weren’t those things because… there isn’t really much to say?  I’m realizing now that I don’t have anything to add to the story except that we should try not to forget these two people, or at least that I don’t think I will be able to forget these two people, which is something else entirely.  Wherever you two lovebirds are, I hope it’s sunny.

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Hot Take

July 15, 2018

#hottake alert: Sharp Objects is the lady True Detective.  Discuss.

PS I should say I only watched the first episode, begrudgingly, because my WiFi wasn’t working in our apartment in Jerusalem, and there was this irritating but not uncommon thing happening with the TV where I couldn’t hear any of the dialogue but the second there was a score/song in the background, it was SUPER LOUD.  But my first thought, upon seeing the final scene in which Amy Adams disrobes to take a bath, revealing a body horrifically scarred by self-inflicted wounds, was, “Oh please, no way you could carve someone’s name onto your shoulder blade with any degree of accuracy.  Any adolescent cutter knows that!”

Curmudgeons I Love

June 15, 2018

Two brief anecdotes, to begin:

1. When I was in high school, my French horn teacher (I know, I know), a sweet but wan young woman who lived with her mother, often wore latex gloves just like, around.  I was always very curious about this: was she OCD?  Was she trying to protect her precious instrument-playing fingers?

2. Right before the release of my book, my editor, my agent, the publicist at my agent’s office, and I went out for coffee to discuss pre-book buzz.  One of the things that came up was potential blurbers––you know, people who provide one or two lines of praise you can slap on the book jacket.  Because Lionel Shriver had recently written a book about her brother’s obesity (my book was about weight issues, to put it broadly), someone suggested her.  My agent got a grave look on her face, and silently and slowly shook her head, “No.”

The reason she did that, I later learned, is because Lionel Shriver is fucking terrifying!  She’s also at the moment (and maybe just generally?) loathed, for lots of un-zeitgeist-y views and what appears to be a broad disdain for people.  At times in interviews, she refutes that, but mostly the impression she gives off is that of a reed thin, slightly eccentric battle-ax.

Recently I was reading old profiles of her because I find her whole persona mesmerizing, and I noticed that she’s often photographed wearing cheap knit gloves.  She reminds me immediately of a strict Muslim who just forgot to wear a burqa but remember to cover her hands.  One article I read said she wears them because she refuses to pay for heating in her house; another said she had a circulation disease.  Is it possible she just wears them to bolster the “weirdo” image?  I get the sense she thinks of herself as very authentic, and not that she isn’t, but there is also a delight evident in knowing that she is very different from the rest of us bare-handed mite brains.

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Eulogy for an Essay

May 9, 2018
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Contact Siobhan for framing options.

Who Wore It Better

April 25, 2018

Unknown

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All thanks to my brilliant husband for pointing this out.  Also this gave me an excuse to re-watch The Holy Mountain trailer and may I just say, *raises gathered fingers to puckered lips* mwah.  Exquisite.

Design Blogging

April 16, 2018

I wish I were a design blogger so I could just post these pictures of drawings by Lithuanian artist Aiste Stancikaite and be like, “Day’s work: complete!”

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Sidenote: pink satin underwear would be nice to own.

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Also nice.

Utterly Confused

April 10, 2018

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This was on Netflix’s home page.  Is Netflix just… buying whole people now?  What does it mean that they’re “all-in”?  Is anyone else thoroughly creeped out by this?!

A Very Literary Problem

April 10, 2018

I really dislike openly displaying sentiment, or attachment to things, particularly things that a lot of people feel sentimental about, but I can’t really avoid it when I discuss this topic.  Brief disclaimer.

So probably you guys remember almost seven (!) years ago, I stayed at Shakespeare & Company, the famous English language bookstore in Paris.  I danced a drunken jig outside the shop after a Will Self reading, I read Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan late into the night, I had a mystical experience afterward: it was all gravy.

Fast forward to 2016.  The history book on the shop, which I had done the tiniest bit of work on when I was there, came out.  Though it was something like 40 Euros and I had to pay for shipping to London, I splurged and got it for myself.  But then, some very thoughtful people ALSO got it for me.  And now I have two.

I don’t really like to own multiple copies of books (I blame Marie Kondo) but I can’t really bring myself to just give the extra one to Goodwill or put it on my stoop.  I feel like it needs to go to a good Tumbleweed home, but I can’t really find any sort of online group that is like, New York City Tumbleweed alums.  (Not being on Facebook does not help my cause here.)  The only NYC-based person I can find who definitely was a Tumbleweed is Molly Crabapple, but she’s KBD and will probably be like, “Why is this weirdo writing me frantically insisting I take her coffee table book?”  (I know she loved it, because her LitHub essay told me so.)  If she sees this and reaches out, she’s got dibs, but I’m not holding my breath.  So now what?  Help me, Internet!

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(Not Shakespeare & Company.  Just another thing Molly Crabapple and I have in common.)