tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33044158727798139812024-03-14T00:26:39.323-07:00Tomek's Culture ShardsPretty Queer Perspectives Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.comBlogger205125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-92145058980202485122017-11-05T03:55:00.000-08:002017-11-05T03:55:26.064-08:00The New Gay <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Every once in a while you see a film that parts the sea: a work that's so tender, so beautiful, and so new, that it redefines everything that came before it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Timothé Chalamet and Armie Hammer shot by Mario Sorrenti for W Magazine</td></tr>
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<b>Call Me By Your Name</b> (2017) is such a film. Directed by Luca Guadagnino of <b>I-Am-Love</b>-with-Tilda-Swinton-fame, this coming-of-age story recounts the meeting of 17-year-old Elio, the twinky prodigial son of a professor, and Oliver, a hunky American doctoral student.<br />
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What sets the story apart is its incredibly natural and nuanced depiction of desire and love. The film completely discards the tired and tropey polarities of gay or straight and good or bad, and instead shows a story of love that feels both complex and real. </div>
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Of course it helps that both lead actors are stunning. Or that we get to fetishize the lives of the <i>haute bourgeoisie</i> (one of the director's specialities), or that <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PtLV8o-xws"><span style="color: #cc0000;">the music is so good it will likely make you cry</span></a>. But what ultimately matters is this: here's a work of art that leaves behind the figure of the tragic gay, and opens the door for a newer, better and wiser way. And for that I thank Signore Guadagnino. </div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-7956311016422656292017-03-22T13:46:00.004-07:002017-03-22T13:46:35.510-07:00Fleur du Bien <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In a certain capital of Poland, spring tends to drag its feet. And since winter has been long and the last moments of any wait are always the hardest, here a selection of flowers - the eternal bearers of joy, colour and hope.<br />
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1 - Robert Mapplethorpe, 1980s (another one from this series in the <a href="http://images.complex.com/complex/image/upload/t_in_content_image/raf-simons-pitti-uomo-19_o92r8u.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Raf Simons show</span></b></a>)<br />
2 - Edouard Boubat, Stanislas at the window. France, 1973<br />
3 - Bernardo Polo, detail of a still life from between 1650-1685<br />
4 - <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2016/08/08/t-magazine/anna-wintour-garden-miranda-brooks.html"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Anna Wintour's wild garden</span></b></a>, 2016. </div>
Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-45895746217592717342017-03-12T01:41:00.003-08:002019-04-24T06:46:15.935-07:00A Good Life: Lessons from Lagerfeld, Valentino and Mapplethorpe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Over the last couple of weeks I saw three films about the lives of three men: <b>Mapplethorpe</b>, <b>Valentino</b>, and <b>Lagerfeld</b>. The films ranged from depressing to inspiring, and it got me thinking about what makes for a happy life when you're gay, creative and mega successful - or not (although this is particularly relevant in regards to the recent article in the Huffington Post, "<a href="http://highline.huffingtonpost.com/articles/en/gay-loneliness/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">The Epidemic of Gay Loneliness</span></b></a>").<br />
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<b>1. <u>"Lagerfeld Confidential" (2007)</u></b><br />
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To be quite honest, this isn't a great film (although the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n22yzBmr5sY"><b><span style="color: #990000;">trailer</span></b></a> is fun). The ingratiating director follows Lagerfeld around and asks him questions about his life, ranging from his childhood to his sexuality (although they really do beat around the bush, and the word 'gay' is the greatest pink elephant in the room, especially for someone usually so outspoken. But then the Kaiser probably hate that word, just like all clichés).<br />
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The designer has some fascinating views on life, and he is filled to the brim with sharp and quotable observations. But although his need for solitude and his inability to share his life with other people seem genuine, it also shown to be a bit tragic. He admits that he disposes of people fairly easily and that he doesn't want to be real in other people's lives. Why ever not? The result is a man of many talents and - what seems - little warmth. Constant control and rigour must be exhausting. Whatever happened to <i>joie de vivre</i>?<br />
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<b><br /></b><b>2. <u>Valentino: "The Last Emperor" (2008)</u></b><br />
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Now here's someone who likes to have a good laugh. Valentino is unapologetically flamboyant, fun and capricious, and this documentary proves it. Following the master couturier while he makes his last collection ever, we see him fully at work and under pressure. And you know what? He goes a little crazy. But he clearly loves what he does. What else? He's got a partner. The same one for 45 years. </div>
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Though <a href="http://www.vanityfair.com/style/2013/11/giancarlo-giammetti-valentino-partners"><b>apparently</b></a> their physical relationship ended a long time ago, they have each others' backs. They bicker like schoolgirls, but they know they're in it forever. When Valentino receives the Légion d'Honneur from the French Government, he talks mostly about Giancarlo, who helped him shape who he is. Valentino starts to cry, and so did I when watching this. </div>
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<b>3. </b><b style="text-decoration: underline;">"Mapplethorpe: Look at the Pictures" (2016)</b></div>
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This excellent documentary is both sad and fascinating. According to an army of friends, admirers and lovers, Robert Mapplethorpe lived for his own success, and on the way there he used people as best as he could - emotionally, financially and sexually. </div>
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When his younger brother wanted to become a photographer too, Robert became so jealous he forced his brother to change his name. When he found he'd contracted HIV, and not his lover, he was angry. When he knew he would die, he asked his lawyer whether he'd leave behind more money than Andy Warhol (the answer was 'no'). And yet his fears and ambitions are understandable, deeply rooted in his family's - and society's - rejection of his work and his sexuality. He died in 1989, at the age of 42. His art <a href="http://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/spring-2017-menswear/raf-simons"><b><span style="color: #990000;">lives on</span></b>.</a><br />
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-17094499382108798882017-02-21T13:13:00.001-08:002017-02-21T13:13:49.438-08:00The Virtue of a Small Penis<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I first went to Florence, I asked my sister in a museum why all the sculptures of naked men had such small penises. At this, her face screwed up with mischievous delight:<br />
"Yours isn't any bigger!"<br />
She was, of course, totally right. I was eight years old.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poseidon (or Zeus) at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens, Bronze, ca. 460 BC.<br />
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Two decades and one puberty spurt later, however, things stand a little differently. And while visiting Athens this month, my question from the 90's returned: How come these perfectly formed males sport such relatively modest members? </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Croatian_Apoxyomenos">Croatian Apoxyomenos</a>, Bronze, 1st or 2nd c. BC.</td></tr>
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After a little research, it turns out that the answer is the same as to any question regarding beauty and body cults: it's cultural. The Ancient Greeks quite simply considered small penises better than big ones. Back then, the ideal man possessed authority, intellect and reason. These were all considered unrelated to penis size. Instead, it was believed that a small penis would help a man not to become a victim of his lust (think <b><span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/6d/b9/20/6db9201565533fc8d6fb35ad2397472a.jpg">poor</a> </span></b>Michael Fassbender in <i>Shame</i>). </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZbSaOzSQmHc/WKsNEKtXwmI/AAAAAAAAF3M/YLB0DLebcmQig_nzPWUEkE6nFyaUaWIUgCLcB/s1600/Classical-Greek-vase-satyr-and-herm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="336" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZbSaOzSQmHc/WKsNEKtXwmI/AAAAAAAAF3M/YLB0DLebcmQig_nzPWUEkE6nFyaUaWIUgCLcB/s400/Classical-Greek-vase-satyr-and-herm.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shepherd pursued by a phallic Pan - Greek vase, Athenian red figure krater</td></tr>
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Big penises, on the other hand, were associated with ugliness and foolishness, which is why only animals or half-animals (such as Satyrs) were depicted with them. The fertility god Priapus was cursed with a permanent massive erection. He was associated with donkeys, and so despised by the other gods that he was thrown off Mount Olympus. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Greek Terracotta figure of Priapus, ©Christie’s 2015</td></tr>
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The playwright Aristophanes summarizes the Greeks' ideal of male beauty in his play <i>Clouds</i> (first performed in 423 BC.) when he says:</div>
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“<i>If you do these things I tell you, and bend your efforts to them, you will always have a shining breast, a bright skin, big shoulders, a minute tongue, a big rump and a<b> small prick</b>. But if you follow the practices of today, for a start you’ll have a pale skin, small shoulders, a skinny chest, a big tongue, a small rump, a<b> big prick</b> and a long-winded decree.</i>” (Lines 1010 – 1019, emphasis mine)</div>
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This male ideal continued to be propagated by sculptors throughout the ages, from the Romans down to the Renaissance. </div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--eGwg0Nyiek/WKyr_6UdaTI/AAAAAAAAF3s/SgcsSrQymgMiah3X7mJZWKBJTKU9rh4BACLcB/s1600/michelangelos_david.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--eGwg0Nyiek/WKyr_6UdaTI/AAAAAAAAF3s/SgcsSrQymgMiah3X7mJZWKBJTKU9rh4BACLcB/s640/michelangelos_david.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Who would have thought? Sometimes there's nothing better than answering your own question. </div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-23888133954298014852017-02-14T12:07:00.000-08:002017-02-14T12:07:12.712-08:00Bathing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It may not feel like it, but winter is coming to an end. And this means: (Sun) bathing is nigh. In case you have forgotten what that looks like, here three examples from recent and not so recent history.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NPrc7NjGLNw/WKNh5f-RxgI/AAAAAAAAF2I/bJiU6eO5G4knXUGneQxx_5IaPuKgbHlNQCLcB/s1600/schorr-photo3-006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="508" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NPrc7NjGLNw/WKNh5f-RxgI/AAAAAAAAF2I/bJiU6eO5G4knXUGneQxx_5IaPuKgbHlNQCLcB/s640/schorr-photo3-006.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bJykBonj05o/WKNh6Ou61HI/AAAAAAAAF2M/Ix3yvPlgDCUW71jT4-oSTsMPgjBznLhTACLcB/s1600/gay%2Bbeach%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bJykBonj05o/WKNh6Ou61HI/AAAAAAAAF2M/Ix3yvPlgDCUW71jT4-oSTsMPgjBznLhTACLcB/s400/gay%2Bbeach%2B2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KkFflQ18nWc/WKNh7sXbRfI/AAAAAAAAF2Q/wcFxekf5qmQJuWhRtQile8d_dHTxFF7ZgCLcB/s1600/Sweerts%252C_Hommes_se_baignant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KkFflQ18nWc/WKNh7sXbRfI/AAAAAAAAF2Q/wcFxekf5qmQJuWhRtQile8d_dHTxFF7ZgCLcB/s640/Sweerts%252C_Hommes_se_baignant.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
1 - <a href="http://www.catch-fire.com/2010/05/the-work-of-collier-schorr-ii-nature/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Collier Schorr</span></b></a>, Schwäbisch Gmünd (2007)<br />
2 - Vintage photograph, anonymous<br />
3 - <a href="https://arthistoriesroom.wordpress.com/2013/08/08/the-silent-world-of-michael-sweerts-2/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Michiel Sweerts</span></b></a>, Men bathing (1655)</div>
Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-54260699229629764352017-02-07T09:15:00.005-08:002017-02-27T01:19:41.823-08:00The Mania around Moonlight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I first read about "<i>Moonlight</i>" in its <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/10/24/moonlight-undoes-our-expectations"><b><span style="color: #990000;">New Yorker review</span></b></a> last October. The unbeatably clever <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/contributors/hilton-als"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Hilton Als</span></b></a> was smitten by the poetic story about a gay black teenager, and he evoked the key scenes so lovingly that it made me want to see the film more than any other in a long time. I wrote it down on my "to-see" list and never heard about it again.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FCxy37rlvnw/WJn_IqLaciI/AAAAAAAAF1Q/Gbwbm3EqgaIoDk8KKPe_x147qt_fvraYgCLcB/s1600/161024_r28888-865x1200-1476393605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FCxy37rlvnw/WJn_IqLaciI/AAAAAAAAF1Q/Gbwbm3EqgaIoDk8KKPe_x147qt_fvraYgCLcB/s640/161024_r28888-865x1200-1476393605.jpg" width="459" /></a></div>
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Until this January. The streets of Paris were plastered with the poster - a serious and somehow vulnerable face daring anyone to look at it. I was so glad. Since when were double-minority (or triple? black, gay <i>and</i> poor) films in the mainstream? And since when do these kinds of films receive <i>Academy Award</i> nominations for Best Feature? </div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vp6XB3yZlQY/WJn1ogCTzkI/AAAAAAAAF0o/HbfSoVaqfyoXn92z4ql317B0eXfZbIJ0gCLcB/s1600/Moonlight_%25282016_film%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vp6XB3yZlQY/WJn1ogCTzkI/AAAAAAAAF0o/HbfSoVaqfyoXn92z4ql317B0eXfZbIJ0gCLcB/s320/Moonlight_%25282016_film%2529.png" width="220" /></a></div>
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So when I finally went to see it last night, the expectations were high. I sat down and held my breath, waiting for the magic. Patiently I let scene by scene pass, but little happened. The pace was slow. A silent traumatized boy passes from childhood to adolescence and adulthood, abused by bullies at school and his drugged mother at home. He finds comfort with a couple who pick him up out of kindness, and experiences a glimpse of love with a boy on the beach.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X5_EMvUSAzo/WJn5uDNvlmI/AAAAAAAAF00/rG27NHJ5Z1YHg4oDG1799VM4A8ihG2WsQCLcB/s1600/Moonlight-2-620x414.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X5_EMvUSAzo/WJn5uDNvlmI/AAAAAAAAF00/rG27NHJ5Z1YHg4oDG1799VM4A8ihG2WsQCLcB/s400/Moonlight-2-620x414.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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There are scenes that are beautifully done, and some throw up questions you may have never asked yourself - especially those concerning the fate of homosexuals and black identity in the most disadvantaged parts of America.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iWWgcxlGmAQ/WJn77xHPHmI/AAAAAAAAF1A/Yn-WSHoO8wcrlV2O2ThYTIyM6wXhBIUAACLcB/s1600/p047xqbh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iWWgcxlGmAQ/WJn77xHPHmI/AAAAAAAAF1A/Yn-WSHoO8wcrlV2O2ThYTIyM6wXhBIUAACLcB/s640/p047xqbh.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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But ultimately, in its quest to be artistic, the film ends up being frustrating: The bullied child becomes a lonely drug-dealer who hardly knows who he is, and doesn't make an effort to find out. Ironically, the story becomes a little too much like its main character: silent, underdeveloped, and ultimately unresolved. There is a way to make all these things interesting and deep, but Moonlight doesn't manage that. Instead, it relies excessively on stylizations that make one think of Beyonce's <i>Lemonade</i>, with long self-conscious shots of Southern scenery. I so wish the film could have had the courage to go further, to actually tackle questions it throws up. Failing that, it would have been better to condense the 111 minutes to 30 without losing a gram of its meaning. But since this abridged version doesn't exist, I suggest you save your cinema fare and get the best of the film from <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/10/24/moonlight-undoes-our-expectations"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Als' fantastic review</span></b></a>.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SoRJ4OZe9es/WJn0BcRBEXI/AAAAAAAAF0g/fiAE-98fUWsN7wL6lqEDI3FXJ5XmZ1NqwCEw/s1600/moonlight-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SoRJ4OZe9es/WJn0BcRBEXI/AAAAAAAAF0g/fiAE-98fUWsN7wL6lqEDI3FXJ5XmZ1NqwCEw/s640/moonlight-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-47800447429034539162016-11-30T09:26:00.005-08:002016-11-30T12:24:01.076-08:00The Best Café in the World<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Before I went to <b>Bar Luce</b> in <a href="http://www.fondazioneprada.org/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Milano's Prada Foundation</span></b></a>, I had no idea you could feel so strongly about a place that serves tea. But the longer you sit there and watch the bow-tied waiters move around like graceful Russian ice-skaters, the longer you listen to the jukebox playing Nino Rota, and the longer you bathe in the soothing world of Wes Anderson pastels, the more you realize that Bar Luce is not in fact a bar. It's a fantasy come true.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uOVCUeT0pfU/WD8CiGu8xPI/AAAAAAAAFyQ/rzvuDTfYPP0NJ2-VuXPC8i3lfSXAibSrgCLcB/s1600/barluce-fondazioneprada_adspazio.it_-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="419" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uOVCUeT0pfU/WD8CiGu8xPI/AAAAAAAAFyQ/rzvuDTfYPP0NJ2-VuXPC8i3lfSXAibSrgCLcB/s640/barluce-fondazioneprada_adspazio.it_-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/bk4MEhUkxco/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bk4MEhUkxco?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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Nino Rota, Theme for Fellini's Amarcord (1973)</div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SNTW2BYq-wc/WD8CizBc3PI/AAAAAAAAFyY/wLVsddQjMZEkilSHKtwzZUIFKNzcbAUywCLcB/s1600/Fondazione_Prada_-_Bar_Luce_1_S.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="342" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SNTW2BYq-wc/WD8CizBc3PI/AAAAAAAAFyY/wLVsddQjMZEkilSHKtwzZUIFKNzcbAUywCLcB/s640/Fondazione_Prada_-_Bar_Luce_1_S.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Opened in 2015, it's a place without history, evoking a past that only exists in your dreams. It's a place where you can sit for a whole day and come back first thing next morning. It's a place where even the rubbish bins are perfect. And as if its beauty wasn't enough, the paninis are the best I've ever had in my life, and silly affordable. Here you can always find a table (the tourists have not yet cottoned on) and the people-watching is every bit as superb as you may expect. It's official: this is love.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XqaOQuJ_XtE/WD8CiMqjRZI/AAAAAAAAFyU/fwYkusURWZ4v-F4fnn9_39bymRZeQzVKACLcB/s1600/29-1-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XqaOQuJ_XtE/WD8CiMqjRZI/AAAAAAAAFyU/fwYkusURWZ4v-F4fnn9_39bymRZeQzVKACLcB/s640/29-1-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-8602060959905358122016-11-18T07:44:00.000-08:002016-11-18T12:00:32.834-08:00My Favourite Queer Films 2016<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So only one of these was actually released in 2016, but so what? A good queer education is nothing without history and a little context. Here the best films I managed to catch this year.<br />
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<b>1. </b><b style="text-decoration: underline;">Looking the Movie</b> (2016)<br />
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Who saw it coming?<br />
Stopped after only two seasons, HBO's "Looking" came back this year with a film, which, rather unexpectedly, was much much better than the series. <i>And</i> much better than "Weekend" (2011), the film that made director Andrew Haigh famous for dreamy hipster gay flicks. Why?<br />
Because the film carries a sense of closure that evaded the show. Because the characters have finally reached their potential. Because it really makes you want to go to San Franisco and dance. And all this made Looking the Movie worth the wait.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Yzm_fNSQxvE/WC8W-_auRJI/AAAAAAAAFx8/QWXb7lNfdIEOQdTKwsqz8G2vXt2vh5MRACLcB/s1600/3ee3a299d11154899065636e44022b45f0dc4c620e304ea9c7f846a2c2d523d171fe00e21830a11a948ade8c437b3046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Yzm_fNSQxvE/WC8W-_auRJI/AAAAAAAAFx8/QWXb7lNfdIEOQdTKwsqz8G2vXt2vh5MRACLcB/s640/3ee3a299d11154899065636e44022b45f0dc4c620e304ea9c7f846a2c2d523d171fe00e21830a11a948ade8c437b3046.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Looking the Movie (2016)</div>
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2. <b><u>Caravaggio</u></b> (1986)<br />
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You will never confuse a Derek Jarman film for someone else's. The typical ingredients: the life of a historical gay hero (Wittgenstein, Saint Sebastian, Edward II), sensual tragedy, and surprising cinematic tricks. Caravaggio has all these and much more. With the stunning Tilda Swinton as a prostitute and a love triangle that includes her lover and the Renaissance painter (sporting a very believable Cockney accent).<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yPZBu7xGizA/VnHZF00KjVI/AAAAAAAAFtc/OvLIjMJ646o/s1600/p31_large.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yPZBu7xGizA/VnHZF00KjVI/AAAAAAAAFtc/OvLIjMJ646o/s400/p31_large.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FU3-60S4jEg/VnHZw8fUl7I/AAAAAAAAFto/3nG8YZDxf0M/s1600/caravaggio2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FU3-60S4jEg/VnHZw8fUl7I/AAAAAAAAFto/3nG8YZDxf0M/s400/caravaggio2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tb238CuyP7M/VnHiLkwZsSI/AAAAAAAAFwo/oXBL6gKhg0M/s1600/968full-nigel-terry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tb238CuyP7M/VnHiLkwZsSI/AAAAAAAAFwo/oXBL6gKhg0M/s640/968full-nigel-terry.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Caravaggio, (1986)</div>
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3. <b><u>Pride</u></b> (2014)<br />
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Which one of you knew that a group of London queers helped Welsh miners during the anti-Thatcherite strikes in 1984? Exactly.<br />
But that's not the only reasons "Pride" is an absolute gem. Because it doesn't just tell an improbable story of friendship and solidarity, it does so with ridiculous amounts of fun and sensitivity. This may be the perfect film.<br />
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"Are all lesbians vegetarians, dear?"<br />
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4. <b><u>Sitcom</u></b> (1996)<br />
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It is incredible how unknown François Ozon's early work is outside of France. "Sitcom" is a story about a suburban bourgeois family and about what happens when la <i>merde</i> hits the fan. Sexy, hilarious, and more than a little rude. Please don't let yourself die without seeing this first.<br />
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You can see the trailer <a href="http://www.francois-ozon.com/en/trailer-sitcom"><b><span style="color: #990000;">here</span></b></a>. </div>
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5. <b><u>Blue is the Warmest Colour </u></b>(2013)<br />
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So sometimes you need a long time to come around to what's obviously good. But you know when you just really want to resist the hype? Well, you'd be wrong if you included "<i>La vie d'Adèle</i>" in this concerted effort. Because this film is essential stuff, transcending every category you may have in your mind. Adèle Exarchopoulos is a revelation (and has the potential to pull you back a couple of grades along the Kinsey scale) and the story is deep and beautiful. It will haunt you right into 2017.<br />
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Blue is the Warmest Colour (2013)</div>
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For the most comprehensive website for queer-themed films, check out the fantastic <a href="http://www.cinegayonline.org/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Cinegay.org.</span></b></a> </div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-41257457086508384492015-08-24T10:23:00.002-07:002016-11-18T12:00:49.234-08:00Gay Japan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last month I went to Japan. I'd been wanting to go ever since I saw <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sU0oZsqeG_s"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Lost in Translation</span></b></a> a decade ago (sometimes you need to admit to clichés) but I always thought I'd be a better cultural explorer than Bill and Scarlett and pierce right into the country's psyche. I didn't. If anything, the trip brought up more questions than answers.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3YBwNqcXt0c/VcnMg7ddhII/AAAAAAAAFqc/CzFwatu_Nls/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2013-05-30%2Bat%2B10.16.40%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3YBwNqcXt0c/VcnMg7ddhII/AAAAAAAAFqc/CzFwatu_Nls/s640/Screen%2BShot%2B2013-05-30%2Bat%2B10.16.40%2BAM.png" width="451" /></a></div>
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What I found particularly puzzling was Japanese gayness - or its apparent mainstream absence. The 7/11s don't stock a single gay magazine, you'll never see two men holding hands, and all gay bars in Tokyo, the biggest city in the world, seem to be concentrated <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shinjuku_Ni-ch%C5%8Dme"><b><span style="color: #990000;">on a couple of streets</span></b></a> in Shinjuku. How is that possible? </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The notorious Japanese writer Yukio Mishima posing as Saint Sebastian</td></tr>
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Before getting on the plane, I read <a href="http://40.media.tumblr.com/7257036978a2c90b84e516df701e8eb4/tumblr_njxrkcuyOI1u5g7ioo1_1280.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Yukio Mishima</span></b></a>'s "<a href="https://books.google.fr/books/about/Confessions_of_a_Mask.html?id=R6U2AAAAIAAJ&redir_esc=y"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Confessions of a Mask</span></b></a>" (1958), arguably Japan's first gay-themed novel. In it homosexuality is always a source of shame, and it is also closely linked to a fetish for violence. The author himself famously committed ceremonial suicide (seppuku) at the age of 45. </div>
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I presumed Mishima's self-hatred and alienation from himself was an exception or a sympton of his times. But upon visiting one of the gay bookshops that I'd read about, hoping to find some literature, I was rather surprised: It pretty much only stocked porn, most of which involved either bondage or overweight or underage-looking boys. The whole thing felt very creepy. I left quickly.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The late pornstar and campaigner Koh Masaki</td></tr>
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A beacon of hope amidst the apparent ghettoization of queer culture was Koh Masaki, a <a href="http://durianspam.tumblr.com/post/20324117125/sgfunboi-one-of-my-fav-clips-i-recorded-from-my"><b><span style="color: #990000;">brilliant</span></b></a> Japanese porn star, who was a fervent supporter of gay rights. Unfortunately Masaki died two years ago, aged 29. <a href="http://www.gaystarnews.com/article/gay-japanese-pornstar-masaki-koh-dead-age-29220513/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Here</span></b></a> a video interview of him and his boyfriend, conducted by Vice, showing them living a rather conventional gay life. Let's hope there are many many more like these out there. </div>
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ps: For deeper insights into queerness in Tokyo, check out this expat's <a href="http://thisjapaneselife.org/2012/02/29/on-going-to-a-gay-bar-in-japan/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">blog post</span></b></a> and <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/asia/the-boys-of-shinjuku-is-tokyos-gay-district-doomed-1888527.html"><b><span style="color: #990000;">this article</span></b></a> from The Independent. Also, Ellen Paige's excellent documentary about gay Japan, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NnrAISE6x08"><b><span style="color: #990000;">here</span></b></a>. </div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-58620217580020577222015-07-30T14:22:00.002-07:002015-07-30T22:54:30.863-07:00Rebel Beauty<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last year I visited the <b><span style="color: #990000;"><a href="http://armania.co/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/Sergei-Paradjanov-Museum-1.jpg"><span style="color: #990000;">Sergej Parajanov museum</span></a> </span></b>in Yerevan. I had not heard of the filmmaker (1924-1990) before coming to <a href="http://armenpress.am/static/news/b/2015/04/801020.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Armenia</span></b></a>, but everything I learned about him I liked - his slightly crazy house, accounts of his visually arresting films, and his courage in resisting the Soviets by depicting minority cultures (such as <a href="http://www.ukrainianmuseumlibrary.org/images/Young-bachelors-hutsul-girl.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Ukraine's Hutsuls</span></b></a> and his native Armenia).<br />
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As is so often the case with things you hotly promise youself to do, it took me some time to actually see one of Parajanov's films. It is only today that I got around to watching his probably most famous work, <u><b>The Colour of Pomegranates</b></u> (1969). The film traces the life of the Armenian 18th-century poet <a href="http://sayat-nova.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/682294224_b1.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Sayat Nova</span></b></a> through an series of elliptical and otherwordly <i>tableaux vivants</i>. </div>
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The whole thing is extremely beautiful and extremely bizarre - you cannot quite grasp the effort all these scenes must have taken. What also struck me was the queer undercurrent of the scenes: The men are handsome and sensual and often half-naked, and the poet Sayat Nova is played by an androgynous actress (think <b><span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://thefashioneaste.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/orlando1.png"><span style="color: #990000;">Tilda Swinton in Sally Potter's Orlando</span></a>)</span></b>. </div>
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In the museum I'd read that Parajnov had spent many years behind bars for his confrontation with the Soviet system and his refusal to submit to the socialist realist style. What was totally omitted, however, and what some research soon unearthed, is that two of Parajanov's arrests were for "homosexual acts". Parajanov reportedly denied these charges and he was subsequently married twice, but James Steffen, a specialist on Parajanov, <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/film/2014/oct/07/the-colour-of-pomegranates-sergei-parajanov-london-film-festival-2014"><b><span style="color: #990000;">states</span></b></a> that the filmmaker was "probaby bisexual, with a preference for men." </div>
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The whole issue is rather nebulous, which is why a recent Ukrainian-produced feature explores this controversial aspect of Parajanov's life. I cannot wait to get my hands on it. And more importantly, I cannot wait to see more of Parajanov's films. Gay, bi, or whatever you want him to be. 'Genius' will cover it either way. <br />
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"Parajanov" (2013), Serge Avedikian</div>
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The Colour of Pomegranates (1969)</div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-32502874752091570182015-07-23T18:18:00.000-07:002015-07-23T18:18:26.894-07:00Amusing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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1. <a href="http://www.kasterine.com/artists/content/bin/images/large/Rainer_Fetting.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Rainer Fetting</span></b></a> & Desmond</div>
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2. <a href="http://www.acnestudios.com/peterschlesinger/"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>Peter Schlesinger for Acne Studios</b></span></a></div>
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3. 1973</div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-79687510138654941582015-04-21T15:29:00.002-07:002015-04-24T20:59:13.216-07:00Bon Voyage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Two great travel stories caught my eye this week. The first, <a href="https://models.com/work/arena-homme--prada-in-cuba"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Prada in Cuba</span></b></a>, shot by <a href="http://thehommeplus.com/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Arena Homme + </span></b></a>magazine, has that really rare quality of merging with the location, not just using it as an exotic backdrop. I love the expressions of the boys' faces, and the clothes look like second hand finds Cubans would actually wear. It doesn't make me want to buy Prada, it makes me want to go travelling.<br />
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Next, an India photo journal by photographer duo <a href="http://seanandseng.com/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Sean and Seng</span></b></a>, whom I just realized, writing this sentence, shot the Prada in Cuba story (!). So much for coincidences and coherent taste. The two went to India last year to relax from work but couldn't resist taking photos there, "<i>a place where something extraordinary is never further than round a dusty corner, beyond a shadowy street or in the crowded market place</i>..."<br />
Here some of the earthly erotic results. I have never seen a better photo journal of India.<br />
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More!</div>
Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-12486325776410114512015-04-01T18:58:00.001-07:002015-04-07T07:43:55.816-07:00Picture of the Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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From exhibitions to exhibitionism.</div>
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Keith Haring, showing all. </div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-35141597427232336022015-03-27T21:08:00.003-07:002015-04-01T18:46:57.671-07:00Fifty Shades of Gay<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The other day I stumbled upon "Matka Joana of Aniołów" (or: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mother_Joan_of_the_Angels"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Mother Joan of the Angels</span></b></a>), a 1960 feature by Jerzy Kawalerowicz. The film recounts the story of a priest who is sent to a convent to purify the soul of Joan, the mother superior, who thinks that the devil has taken possession of her.<br />
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The photography is breath-taking, and so is the atmosphere.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zCHZenjZZEA/VRYgVVYJMyI/AAAAAAAAFiA/nxPPnXIeftA/s1600/3MOTHERmother-joan-of-the-angels-2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zCHZenjZZEA/VRYgVVYJMyI/AAAAAAAAFiA/nxPPnXIeftA/s1600/3MOTHERmother-joan-of-the-angels-2.png" height="486" width="640" /></a></div>
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With its black and white format and its religious theme, Matka Joana is also more than a little reminiscent of Paweł Pawlikowski's <a href="http://tomekscultureshards.blogspot.mx/2013/11/sorrow-and-bleakness-good-kind.html" style="color: #990000; font-weight: bold;">Ida</a>. And which other films can you name where nuns lie face-down on the church floor? Another less obvious parallel is that Ida won the Oscar and Matka Joana the Prix Spécial du Jury at Cannes - are the Poles the world masters of quiet intense films about struggles with faith?<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bqNPzvOrHWA/VRYh1HhUXeI/AAAAAAAAFiM/N6UMxYzAmAg/s1600/tumblr_nfvg9wFpyd1trqv0to1_1280.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bqNPzvOrHWA/VRYh1HhUXeI/AAAAAAAAFiM/N6UMxYzAmAg/s1600/tumblr_nfvg9wFpyd1trqv0to1_1280.png" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Ida (2013)</td></tr>
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Either way, Matka Joana takes the theme of temptationa and sin much further than Ida. And that is no coincidence, seeing that the film is based on a book by Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz (1894 - 1980). The famous writer had a wife and children and grandchildren, but he was also one of the most notorious homosexuals in Poland (pre-WWI, in between the wars, and under the communist regime).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iwaszkiewicz in 1914 - a bit of <a href="http://tomekscultureshards.blogspot.mx/2014/12/naked-vs-revealed.html"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Gaspard Uliel</span></b></a>, non?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QZjaguRkxN8/VRYkXvteCfI/AAAAAAAAFig/HmXFiBWelsI/s1600/dionizje%2B1921.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QZjaguRkxN8/VRYkXvteCfI/AAAAAAAAFig/HmXFiBWelsI/s1600/dionizje%2B1921.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A photograph taken by Iwaszkiewicz in 1921 that appeared in an album entitled "Dionysia"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w1DeZHjoPW0/VRYkaGWS7sI/AAAAAAAAFio/EZTQ62zXn9M/s1600/Cocteau.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w1DeZHjoPW0/VRYkaGWS7sI/AAAAAAAAFio/EZTQ62zXn9M/s1600/Cocteau.jpg" height="320" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Memories from the heart, to Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz. Jean Cocteau, Warsaw, October 1960" (just after the film was finished)</td></tr>
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As with many other artists, Iwaszkiewicz's life has been much degayed by his biograhphers (the Iwaszkiewicz museum, the villa in which he lived most of his life, doesn't even hint at his sexuality). Thankfully, Krzysztof Tomasik's excellent book "Homobiografie" puts an end to the hypocrisy, and retraces the queer lives of some of Poland's most venerable writers, including <a href="http://www.congresogombrowicz.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Witold-a-rayas.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Witold Gombrowicz</span></b></a>.<br />
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But before the book gets translated into English or you learn Polish, check out Mother Joan of the Angels for a peek into Iwaszkiewicz's soul.<br />
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On YouTube with Spanish subtitles...<br />
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Mother Joan of the Angels, 1960, Full Film</div>
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...and in London as part of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/PolishFilmFestivalKinoteka"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Martin Scorsece Presents Masterpieces of Polish Cinema</span></b></a> series. Amen. </div>
Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-16282321629537018662015-02-12T14:25:00.003-08:002015-02-13T18:45:20.593-08:002 Sides, 1 Sweden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I went to the hairdresser the other month I flipped open the September 2014 copy of <a href="http://www.interviewmagazine.com/fashion/daria-werbowy-by-mikael-jansson"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Interview Magazine</span></b></a> and stumbled upon this treasure. Grown-up, stoic, with a hint of Bergman. Never before had I fantasized about spending the summer in Sweden. But who wouldn't want to chop wood with Daria?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daria Werbowy shot by Mikael Jansson near Stockholm</td></tr>
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And when I started to wonder whether the country up North could only do demure, then came US Vogue. Karlie Kloss in the incredible <a href="http://treehotel.se/" style="color: #990000; font-weight: bold;">Tree Hotel</a><b style="color: #990000;"> </b>-<b style="color: #990000;"> </b>and on the occasional golden meadow - is a summersault-inducing feast of colours and nature which makes you want to be there (and deserves to be shown in blog-unfriendly Original Size). </div>
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See you in summer 2015, Sweden? </div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-73810328060509609022015-02-03T09:12:00.003-08:002015-02-03T10:23:32.980-08:00Every Summer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In our age of instant visual gratification it is a rare pleasure to take one's time with photographs. Which is why I love to develop my summer films in the midst of winter.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Things you can find in the desert: a <a href="http://cargocollective.com/laurentsalazar"><b><span style="color: #990000;">florist</span></b></a>...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and beautiful wheat-like plants looking down on the Azeri border</td></tr>
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It was exactly a year ago that I did the same thing with my 2013<b><span style="color: #990000;"> <a href="http://tomekscultureshards.blogspot.mx/2014/02/a-case-for-delay.html"><span style="color: #990000;">Sicily</span></a></span></b> photos, and there is something wonderful about delayed reflections. Little else is as reassuring as seeing the sun that warmed you not so long ago and to remember that it will happen again soon.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers in Tbilisi</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warm wind under the skirts of Kutaisi</td></tr>
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This is why we still yearn for photo surprises. </div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-60878258596252117612014-12-25T07:06:00.003-08:002014-12-28T11:17:48.984-08:00A Big Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A magically queer Christmas to everyone! With a drawing by the super <a href="http://www.felixdeon.com/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Felix D'Eon</span></b></a>.<br />
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-61717864265828266302014-12-19T15:22:00.003-08:002014-12-19T23:53:45.052-08:00Irresistible<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Another strong exhibition at the <a href="http://www.zacheta.art.pl/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Zachęta</span></b></a> Gallery: "<a href="http://www.zacheta.art.pl/en/article/view/2205/postep-i-higiena"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Progress and Hygiene</span></b></a>" might sound somewhat misleading (i.e. boring) but this show is a very clever exploration of society's use of the body as a means of control. Think of it as a rendez-vous between science, power and aesthetics.<br />
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The curators manage to survey much of the 20th century by featuring an improbable range of artists from <a href="http://www.obieg.pl/files/images/0806270108.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Luc Tuymans</span></b></a> and Gerhard Richter to Robert Capa and Leni Riefenstahl. Riefenstahl's film "Olympia" (1938), notoriously commissioned by Hitler, is especially unsettling with its combination of beauty, pompousness and historical responsibility. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leni Riefenstahl, In der Sauna</td></tr>
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Of course it also didn't escape me just how homoerotic this piece of Aryan propaganda is (oh, the <a href="http://tomekscultureshards.blogspot.com/2014/05/streets-of-berlin.html"><b><span style="color: #990000;">bitter irony</span></b></a>), with all the sweating torsos and muscly butts and scenes of sauna frolicking. I mean, <i>please</i>. </div>
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But leaving the gallery I thought, somewhat fatally, that maybe not that much has changed since Riefenstahl. Today it isn't governments that use images of sculpted bodies to control us, but instead a whole industry exists that is built on showing us superior physiques to make us give up our minds (and money) in order to be part of something bigger and seemingly better. </div>
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Bruce Weber's very gay A&F propaganda</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sansmakeup.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/kate-moss-without-makeup-001.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Kate Moss</span></b></a> and Mark Wahlberg for <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/tag/calvin-klein-boyfriend/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Calvin Klein</span></b></a></td></tr>
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Get it? So much for progress. Viva la revolución interior!</div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-33961875492112809582014-12-14T13:50:00.001-08:002016-11-18T12:02:27.387-08:00Naked vs. Revealed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Bertrand Bonello's "Saint Laurent" was not at all what I thought it would be. Having seen the trailer I envisioned stunning settings, tasteful drama and a splash of scandal. What I got was a whole lot different.<br />
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Maybe I was blinded by appearances - it is hard not to be impressed by how the usually hunky Gaspard Ulliel transformed into weedy Saint Laurent, or by just how bloody handsome Louis Garrel looks with a moustache (who would have thought?).<br />
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And being blinded by appearance is exactly what happened to the film. Like Narcissus transfixed with his own image, it somehow forgot to come up with anything resembling substance. For a very long two and a half hours the film rambles on without much of a point of view, jumping from one time period to another, never quite explaining Saint Laurent's central relationships (his love for <a href="http://cdni.condenast.co.uk/1280x1920/o_r/pierre-berge-yves-saint-laurent-vogue-8apr13-rex_b.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Pierre Bergé</span></b></a> or his lifelong friendships with <a href="http://static1.puretrend.com/articles/0/42/49/0/@/379990-betty-catroux-yves-saint-laurent-et-637x0-1.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Betty Catroux and Loulou de la Falaise</span></b></a>). The whole thing feels like an interminable trailer, with the characters as deep and relatable as models in a Saint Laurent ad.<br />
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And yet, there may be one reason to go and see this film: Ulliel's unabashed semi-hard full frontal. It was the only moment that made my jaw drop, and maybe the only time this film leaves its dull comfort zone and gives you a feel for YSL's daring and desparate private life (and Ulliel's very generous junk). Although I'm sure <a href="http://harrylouismarcandjacob.tumblr.com/post/105851729310/gaspard-ulliel-saint-laurent"><b><span style="color: #990000;">a decent screen shot</span></b></a> will soon leak into the world wide web. In the meantime, I recommend the trailer over the film and Alicia Drake's "<a href="http://www.theguardian.com/books/2006/sep/23/art"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Beautiful Fall</span></b></a>" for a real insight into the scandal.<br />
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-42404874935712921892014-12-10T02:03:00.000-08:002014-12-12T13:04:57.817-08:00Big Deal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of the greatest drawbacks of not living in London is to miss Anselm Kiefer's <a href="https://www.royalacademy.org.uk/exhibition/anselm-kiefer"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>retrospective at the Royal Academy</b></span></a>. And so, when in Milan the other week, I took a rather long metro journey to the outskirts of the city to search out <a href="http://www.hangarbicocca.org/home-en-US/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Hangar Bicocca</span></b></a>. In the Pirelli factory turned contemporary art museum I found my dose of Kiefer spectacular.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; text-align: center;">Anselm Kiefer "Seven Heavenly Palaces", 2004, at Hangar Bicocca in Milan</td></tr>
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"<a href="http://www.hangarbicocca.org/space/the-seven-heavenly-palaces/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">The Seven Heavenly Palaces</span></b></a>" is a permanent site-specific installation, made up of seven concrete towers weighing 90 tonnes each, 14-18 metres high. And it took my breath away. Even though I didn't know much about the artist, and even though I didn't know he was thinking ancient Jewish teachings, World War II ruins and the future remains of our civilization. Because you can sense all this. And it, (along with <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2014/sep/12/anselm-kiefer-royal-academy-retrospective-german-painter-sculptor"><b><span style="color: #990000;">a certain Guardian article</span></b></a>) opened my eyes as to just how much of a crazy mystic Kiefer really is.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anselm Kiefer, Winter Landscape, 1970</td></tr>
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And suddenly London's call resounds even more sweetly. </div>
Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-78997518531249270382014-12-02T08:42:00.001-08:002016-04-06T15:25:27.556-07:00Meditating on Queer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I took a spiritual break from blogging. I should have said something, but I didn't. What did I do instead? Meditate.<br />
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Nothing very mysterious or noble made me stumble on <a href="http://www.tipitaka.org/images/budpvbhik.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Vipassana</span></b></a> - one day I googled 'Free Meditation courses' and <a href="https://www.dhamma.org/"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>there it wa</b></span>s</a>: A somewhat muted but efficient website informing me of a 10-day course where you're not allowed to read, write, text, call, google, copulate, masturbate or speak. And all of it for free! It wasn't going to be as pretty or instagrammable as some <a href="http://thedigitaldetox.org/" style="color: #990000; font-weight: bold;">'digital detox' retreats</a>, but why should anyone, on top of everything else, make money on my inner peace?<br />
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I won't describe what the Vipassana technique is about because it would sound either prosyletizing or new-agey, and it really is something one needs to experience for onself. But it worked for me. And even the prohibitions made sense. What struck me as strange, however, was the ingrained heteronormativity on the course: Men and women ate, slept and even went for walks separately in order to avoid distractions and 'impure thoughts' (did I mention the<a href="http://www.xojane.com/sex/5-things-happen-when-you-quit-masturbating"> <b><span style="color: #990000;">ban on masturbation</span></b></a>?). But the presumption that being locked up with the boys would be of absolutely no erotic potential for me felt like an institutional negation of my sexuality. </div>
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Which upset me on the first days - shouldn't there be exceptions for <i>us</i>? Wouldn't it be easier for me to be with the girls? </div>
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And then it dawned on me: That I had somehow forgotten the fact that I was part of a minority, and that it wasn't anyone's fault. And that no one really cared. It wasn't about asserting my gay ego, it was about accepting a simple syllogism: That I'm a man, that <a href="http://i.imgur.com/ppi2b.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">most men identify as mostly heterosexual</span></b></a>, and that therefore people would assume that I was too. And not in order to oppress me. This is of course a truism, but in an individualist world where you create and consume any sort of culture you like, you can live without being confronted with the simplest of truths. And then, of course, there is your LGBT-rights awareness, which knows only too well that there is still so much to be done. But that doesn't mean there is discrimination and bad faith everywhere. And after all, I learned that being with the boys isn't all that bad. </div>
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Namaste.</div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-13718246946259875422014-11-02T10:26:00.003-08:002014-11-02T10:26:51.450-08:00The Jewish Renaissance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Posters all over town had been announcing it for weeks, and this Tuesday it finally happened: The permanent exhibition of Warsaw's Museum of the History of Polish Jews opened its doors. The Israeli Prime Minister came to visit, crowds flogged to the <a href="http://tomekscultureshards.blogspot.com/2014_02_01_archive.html"><b><span style="color: #990000;">square</span></b></a> in the former Jewish Ghetto and there was an outdoor concert by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTYKT9hGJeQ"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Jon Krakauer</span></b></a> and jazz legend <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H51xGk0lMwk" style="color: #990000; font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #990000;">Tomasz Stańko</span></a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warsaw on Tuesday night, preparing for the opening</td></tr>
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But it was a prematurely cold night and I stayed home. What is worse, tickets for the exhibition had been sold out for days, and only today - 5 days later - did I manage to see it. It felt like a huge deal.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wooden Gwoźdiec synagogue reconstructed </td></tr>
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I'm really not one of those people who can stay in museums very long, hence the shock when I came out and it was dark outside. I asked for the time and realised I'd been inside for 4 hours. The show is so engaging, so rich and varied, that you feel like you're time-travelling, from the early Middle-Ages through to the Industrial Revolution and beyond. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bf7u_xLCpeg/VFZoah8qsFI/AAAAAAAAFTE/95M7vuNEnlM/s1600/Robotnicy-w-Fabryce-Pozna%C5%84skiego.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bf7u_xLCpeg/VFZoah8qsFI/AAAAAAAAFTE/95M7vuNEnlM/s1600/Robotnicy-w-Fabryce-Pozna%C5%84skiego.jpeg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Workers in Izrael Poznański's textile factory in Łódź, 1890. </td></tr>
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<br />A lot of it was new to me. The Holocaust is a small and potent part, but maybe more shocking are the sections about progroms in Polish towns after the war. The museum has done an amazing job of reconstructing post-war Poland, including an interactive study of how Polish Jews felt about Israel and their split identities, and interview with sculptor <b><span style="color: #990000;"><a href="http://www.artbiznes.pl/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/SZAPOCZNIKOW_STANISLAWSKI_FOTO003a-542x800.jpg"><span style="color: #990000;">Alina Szapocznikow</span></a> </span></b>(who survived several death camps) and much much more. <div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alina Szapocznikow</td></tr>
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Bizarrely, I didn't cry once - that wasn't the intention of this show. It ended on a note of hope, with videos about the revival of Poland's Jewish community. The only moment when tears welled up was when, towards the very end, I was watching a film made by an American director who returned to Poland in 1981. He visited the Polish woman who had saved him and the Catholic nuns who had looked after him until the war was over. They recognized him, kissed him on both cheeks, and welcomed him back. Now this is cause for celebration. </div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-62060171700586144182014-10-23T13:59:00.001-07:002016-11-30T08:45:33.345-08:00Why James Franco Should Finally Come Out<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I didn't know James Franco had written a book until the bright yellow cover of <i>Palo Alto</i> fell into my hands in an Oxfam bookshop. Curiosity got the better of me.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9eUrLHxVAqE/VEk0UCPmrGI/AAAAAAAAFRQ/0I_w4IFyPSc/s1600/james-franco-spring-breaker-gif-2013.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9eUrLHxVAqE/VEk0UCPmrGI/AAAAAAAAFRQ/0I_w4IFyPSc/s1600/james-franco-spring-breaker-gif-2013.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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And I'm glad it did. Not because <i>Palo Alto</i> taught me anything new about James Franco, but because it confirmed my prejudices (this is a very petty pleasure, yes.). Especially this: <b>James Franco is gay</b>. I can hardly believe some people still refuse to accept this fact (including James). Reading the stories of trashy 90's teenagehood (think <a href="http://fdaphotography.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/la_pol__mique_larry_clark_908138365_north_545x.jpg"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Larry Clark</span></b></a>, but awkward) I was struck by the number of homoerotic/queer sections that I really really wanted to read out loud to someone and say "SEE?!". I ended up marking the pages.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palo Alto's Origami of Queerness</td></tr>
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Basically, Franco is obsessed with good-looking boys and penises. Every story contains at least one 'handsome' dude and a description of cocks, while girls are usually used and abused. From the story "Camp": </div>
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"<i>Rain had the biggest dick of all of his friends...[he] broke all the basketball records in high school and had sex with tons of ugly girls.</i>" </div>
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On watching a Holocaust film: ".<i>..bodies being bulldozed. Penises on the man and vaginas and breasts on the women. They didn't seem like real penises. I looked close. Some were big</i>." </div>
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I am not saying a writer cannot write about penises without being branded gay (think John Updike), but Palo Alto impresses with its queerness, that is much more vulnerable than heterosexual phallomania. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pale Alto the Film, out soon</td></tr>
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More revealingly, Franco uses the stories to indirectly directly deal with growing up gay in 90's California. From the story Killing Animals: </div>
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"<i>I wasn't friends with Jerry or Dan anymore. They played on the school sports team, and started calling me a fag after I quit the football team. They said Ed and I were gay together.</i>" </div>
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And in another story: </div>
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"<i>They each had one testicle sticking out...I looked up and saw their faces and I knew that I was not supposed to be looking at those balls, that that was what they wanted. "Faggot looked!" said someone...they screamed that I was a faggot as two held me down</i>." </div>
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This very much echoes Franco's ridiculously gay short film <i>The Feast of Stephen</i>, about a boy who is bullied slash fantasy-fucked by a group of handsome basketball players. </div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/sbRJVDY5xGI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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The Feast of Stephen (2011), Short film by James Franco</div>
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Many people will not have seen this film (in fact it only has 100,000 views on Youtube - compared to Franco's 2.5 million Twitter followers) but it provides a very intimate insight into Franco's psyche. No straight guy is that interested in gay people (or cock).<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tIvVcBD1-TQ/VElgrdVBqoI/AAAAAAAAFRg/_8rhuaU3nC8/s1600/james-franco-kisses.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tIvVcBD1-TQ/VElgrdVBqoI/AAAAAAAAFRg/_8rhuaU3nC8/s1600/james-franco-kisses.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Why do I care? Because I'm gay, and because it's important to say it, <b><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/09/james-franco-gay_n_3894154.html"><span style="color: #990000;">especially when one is asked directly</span></a></b>. Because we don't yet live in a post-gender post-sexual orientation world, and discrimination continues. And because that gay teenager who is being bullied right now would really appreciate to know that you can be handsome and masculine and talented and gay and out. You just need to grow a pair of balls.</div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-54126530715620569762014-10-08T15:23:00.001-07:002014-10-13T08:42:25.971-07:00Becoming an Object<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On a sunny day in Tbilisi the other week I saw a tree stump in front of my friend's house. Lo and behold! Something made me climb onto it. And stand on it. Still. This felt great for 2 reasons:<br />
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size: 9.5pt;">photo: <a href="http://veronikaspierenburg.com/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Veronika
Spierenburg</span></b></a>, a.k.a. Die Vroni</span><!--EndFragment-->
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1. Sometimes it is good to know exactly where to be and what to do.</div>
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2. Becoming a sculpture attracts attention and makes you feel surprisingly powerful. Now I can empathise with the men chiselled by <a href="http://tomekscultureshards.blogspot.com/2012/07/church-of-balkenhol.html" style="color: #990000; font-weight: bold;">Stephan Balkenhol</a>.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BIKJBRgRP6E/VDUMwiPIXRI/AAAAAAAAFO0/rrM9qKSYyAU/s1600/Stephen%2BFriedman%2B2011.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BIKJBRgRP6E/VDUMwiPIXRI/AAAAAAAAFO0/rrM9qKSYyAU/s1600/Stephen%2BFriedman%2B2011.jpeg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stephan Balkenhol, at the Stephen Friedman gallery in London, 2011</td></tr>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rwOHui-0Z1g/VDW1f2-zuYI/AAAAAAAAFPM/yzaY6JmvAW4/s1600/balkenhol-stephan-ceaac-380x180.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rwOHui-0Z1g/VDW1f2-zuYI/AAAAAAAAFPM/yzaY6JmvAW4/s1600/balkenhol-stephan-ceaac-380x180.jpeg" height="188" width="400" /></a></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxLkV9G2IPbrTiJvogvF7FKve30ZniXpI1a4Hk3r4gsPG9uEnLJXzomgecIrlThalrFDCqvMjrHx3zwJgVjTA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Voilà. This wood man of Balkenhol's isn't half-bad either. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t0TMeOmVXiw/VDUMcX9JkdI/AAAAAAAAFOc/iHLZVdXww4w/s1600/balkenhol_st-legno_dipinto_24x30x168cm_part.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t0TMeOmVXiw/VDUMcX9JkdI/AAAAAAAAFOc/iHLZVdXww4w/s1600/balkenhol_st-legno_dipinto_24x30x168cm_part.jpeg" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
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Maybe next time. </div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3304415872779813981.post-13322887348515476662014-09-04T15:07:00.005-07:002014-09-04T15:34:05.468-07:00Warsaw Tillmans<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Tomorrow I am travelling to Georgia and Armenia for a little while. As a mini-goodbye to Warsaw and to you, here some shots <a href="http://www.interviewmagazine.com/art/wolfgang-tillmans#_"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Wolfgang Tillmans</span></b></a> made for <a href="http://www.zacheta.art.pl/en/article/view/567/wolfgang-tillmans-zacheta-ermutigung"><b><span style="color: #990000;">his 2011 show</span></b></a> at the Zachęta Gallery.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IDE5p39De9Y/VAjcqGyCHEI/AAAAAAAAFLc/UgWLDMNdRC0/s1600/tillmans7-zacheta.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IDE5p39De9Y/VAjcqGyCHEI/AAAAAAAAFLc/UgWLDMNdRC0/s1600/tillmans7-zacheta.jpeg" height="640" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soldier at the only arch left of the <a href="http://tomekscultureshards.blogspot.com/2014/04/urban-nostalgia.html"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Saxon Palace</span></b></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tl4GAGyZmeQ/VAjctloxM3I/AAAAAAAAFLs/PiV_7-N7ezM/s1600/2011_Warsaw_Zachenta_web01.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tl4GAGyZmeQ/VAjctloxM3I/AAAAAAAAFLs/PiV_7-N7ezM/s1600/2011_Warsaw_Zachenta_web01.jpeg" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Zachęta, with some more abstract photography</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-485rw4ScuVs/VAjcrGSD8gI/AAAAAAAAFLk/P0288bvZQSo/s1600/IMG_5650.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-485rw4ScuVs/VAjcrGSD8gI/AAAAAAAAFLk/P0288bvZQSo/s1600/IMG_5650.jpeg" height="281" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tillmans' boy fetish juxtaposed with anti-gay signs ("Gaying prohibited")</td></tr>
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Enjoy September everyone. </div>
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Tomekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13115566738144344787noreply@blogger.com0