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Category: Arts and Culture

Beat of the Day

ninanina

Break.

[Photo Credit: Nina Leen]

Taster’s Cherce

fakeshake

DIY

Morning Art

firees

“Fire Escape” by Alice Neel (1946)

Million Dollar Movie

MadMax2

The Road Warrior is one of my favorite action movies. Mad Max is creepy as hell, too. The thing about the first two Mad Max movies is that for all the unrelenting action, and despite the fantastic premise, it’s all rooted in credibility. I always felt that part of Miller’s achievement was to make you believe you are there–with these guys coming after you. They are a comic book–and the third movie went someplace that didn’t really appeal to me)–but realistic in a strange way; that’s what made them so frightening and effective. (The second movie also has some nice comedic touches).

Plus, I liked Max’s dog.

The new one looks pumped up with the action and pyrotechnics. I hope that same sense of urgency and credibility exist.

Mad Mad: Fury Road is supposed to be dope. Think I’ll have to cart my ass to the theater for this one.

Over at Esquire, our pal Scott Raab profiles Charlize Theron:

Her career is pure stardust.

She was a teenage model in Italy, came to New York City at eighteen, and left for Los Angeles when her knees gave out for good; there she was discovered by her first manager, who was in line at the bank where she was trying—loudly and without success—to cash her last New York modeling-job check to keep her room at the Farmer’s Daughter, formerly an L. A. fleabag. But Theron came up hard in a hard country, on a hard continent.

“On the street where I was raised—75 percent of the people who lived on that street are not alive anymore. For no reason. For nothing. Life means nothing. In my formative years, I was in an environment that was filled with turmoil—political turmoil—in a world that was incredibly unsafe. And still is. In the early nineties, we were number one in homicide in the world. In HIV/AIDS, we’re still number one. We were number one in carjacking; I think we’re now number three. It became a place where the value of life—there was no value of life.

“You can’t oversimplify it; it comes from a very real place. It’s sad, because the people are good. They’re good people, and they’re resilient people, more than anywhere else in the world that I’ve ever come across. There’s something about South African flesh—we get up and we move forward, and we sometimes don’t take a moment for a little bit of self-awareness or self-pity. We’re such beasts at having to survive—I have the utmost respect for that, but it’s not the healthiest way to go through life. We’ve become a generation in South Africa that is driven by very valid anger, but the cost is coming at such a high level—and that’s a painful thing to watch. A lot of my emotional drive comes purely from the fact that I was born on that continent, and that I was raised there, and that it was different. I have a very strong relationship with Africa, one that’s built on lots of love and massive pain.”

Beat of the Day

wonderf

Shit’s straight like 9:15…

Wonder Woman by Terry Dodson And Rachel Dodson

The Great Outdoors

tenniscourt

Dig this piece my friend Ben wrote for the Daily Beast:

Many of Orwell’s books and his uniformly excellent essays feature, to one degree or another, passages extolling the quiet glories of nature: conscious respites from the grimmer landscapes of the author’s political explorations. For every bleak London slum or vile kitchen of a French restaurant, a prim, beloved garden. For every deadening trip into the suffocating dark of a coal mine, a journal entry hailing the beauty and the bounty of fruit trees Orwell planted with his own hands.

But his loveliest, longest, and, for those unfamiliar with this side of Orwell, his most unexpected hymn to nature’s wonders is a 1946 essay published under the misleadingly humdrum title “Some Thoughts on the Common Toad.” Here, in 1,600 words, all of the very best characteristics of Orwell’s essays are in evidence: his talent for launching, deftly and without preamble, into his theme; his matter-of-fact eloquence; his avoidance of cant; his empathy for the underdog; his wry humor; his reporter’s eye for the telling detail; his delight in elementary beauty.

Above all, however, the essay’s great strength and abiding charm reside in the evident pleasure Orwell takes not only in nature, but in sharing that appreciation with the reader. More so than in most of the man’s writings, one senses Orwell genuinely enjoying himself while crafting this particular piece.

[Photo Credit: Derek Hudson via MPD]

Beat of the Day

downdown

Here she comes again.

New York Minute

skateempire

Block Party, 1977 Style. 

All freaks off the speakers…except for Jackie.

[Photo Credit: @flaviosamelo]

Morning Art

zbabs

Picture by Bags

Picture This

zknee

Time flies. I started my tumblr site four years ago today. Man, I love Tumblr. I’ve found so many great sites there, been hipped to so many wonderful pictures.

Check it out if you’re into that sort of thing. Be aware, though, there are some images that are not suitable for the workplace.

[Photo Credit: Mariana Garcia via MPD]

Afternoon Art

BB

Picture by William Stout

Beat of the Day

bbking

More from the man.

[Photo Credit: Peter Amft]

What Becomes a Legend Most?

lucille

Rest in Peace, Mr. King.

[Photo Credit: Danny Clinch]

Afternoon Art

irving

“Girl in Bed” by Irving Penn (1949)

Taster’s Cherce

potato

More gluten.

Beat of the Day

kris

Make believe you love me, one more time.

Picture by Bags

This is The End

ned

Fin.

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"This ain't football. We do this every day."
--Earl Weaver