feral & strange.

art couple double parlour creates these amazing small scale sculptures of strange children. there is something so appealing to me about the liminal, metamorphic space of childhood, i always find myself attracted to fiction and movies where there is a bit of a 'coming of age' or strange/ haunting tale involving children, i.e. 'the devil's backbone' or 'pan's labyrinth.' as much as i also love being an "adult," i miss the days of dangling in trees and coming home with leaves or seaweed in my hair and skinned knees; anything seemed possible, magic was always present. there is something about double parlour's works that make me remember this wild, important time in my life living near the sea.

for nadja

when i first came across joão figueiredo's paintings, i has assumed that they were collages. often i'm distracted by paintings that feel like collages, but here, i love it. these portraits feel akin to 'nadja', the heroine of andre breton's work of the same name, built around notions of 'l'amour fou' or mad love, (a favorite surrealist theory" of mine) here nadja is also akin to gradiva, or a kind of phantom lover. she is real, but not. half here, half elsewhere. . . . a kind of strange half-life that i see in these works of regal women.

these days.

exploring olde abandoned places here in PA.

super close in SF

i wrote both the cover story on artist audrey kawasaki and an essay on artist brad kunkle for the current issue of hi-fructose, out now !

obsessed with vegan treats! though i'm not vegan, these were still unbelievably amazing. 

at hawk mountain.

nevermore crow claw brooches that will be available soon!

pj. always.

baby planchettes always.

witchy fluevog gift !

CocoRosie's first stop on their new tour

'of his bones are coral made' conjoined coral ring.

a loop i made for my trunk show last weekend. thanks to all of you who came out !

& diego. always weird.

i'm always posting on instagram, follow me there @bloodmilk 

can you hear what i've written ?

i've seen some of jenny holzer's works floating around on tumblr these past few years, but it was this post that really pierced me. projected onto buildings and reflecting in water around the world, the words are often cryptic, strange, wounding, poignant .... & i particularly love the idea of words / snips of literature becoming part of the landscape, inescapable emotional snares....

witch in the woods.

artist darby lahger is living one of my 'later on in life' dreams; she lives in a cabin, in the woods, in sweden. her instagram @old_hag is populated by landscapes of this dream life: snow laden woods, dark bare trees veined against the violet light of dusk, & a cabin filled with the warmth of candlelight. at the center of this is the lady herself, who often takes self portraits: witchy long hair & a beautiful face freckled with mystic tattoos, flying on her broomstick amidst these marvelous settings that somehow seem unreal, plucked from fabulist fiction, or the dreams of a city girl ....  

lucky for me (us) she just opened at instagram gallery where you can purchase prints of her postings. 

one of us.

I'm such a fan of Allyson Mellberg Taylor's works. Despite the odd, & occasionally unsettling gelatinous life forms, there is a real comfort in her work as many of her figures are often engaged in acts of affection. Intriguingly, some of these interactions border on the over-wheleming as creatures encircle or sprout from the female characters...a kind of comforting convergence between a created 'natural' world and the figures that populate it. 

a fear of unknown origin.

i've had these images of david ross harper's work in my flickr pool for a bit, there are so many components to them that interest me; wild life, embroidery, antiquated portraiture, and of course, the stark sadness of death, bird wings folded in silence, the odd lifelessness of a dark horse, an arrow riddled boar.... it's this stillness of the work that startles and snares me, how death is in close proximity to objects of creative energy, stacks of thread and books. life and death shouldering against each other in that long hallway . . .