The Scenes
Art...
The banners I've constructed for the site encapsulate in certain small ways what I hope this blog is about...
I'm a big fan of zines, diy culture and the rough aesthetics of copiers and inaccurate reproductions. This image comes from the cover of the zine Autocratic/Autoerotic.
Computers have a way of fucking things up in beautiful ways. When I began this blog, I returned to some old essays I wrote on Jean Genet in an very archaic version of Microsoft Word. Opening them, my computer jumbled the text into strange and somewhat beautiful patterns.
On the left, Justin Berry. Webcam porno star? victim of pedophiles? Born-again Christian? Federal witness? Web entrepreneur? All of the above? This photo of him is my favorite--after leaving behind his sorded webcam lifestyle, he got baptized again. On the right, Freddie Mercury. Live Aid. Bohemian Rhapsody. AIDS. "My makeup may be flaking but my smile stays on."
Speaking of autoerotics, this is an image I fell in love with a long time ago. It's a crime scene photo of a married man who died while practicing autoerotic asphyxiation, which involves masturbating while cutting off one's own airflow, which is obviously very dangerous. He is wearing pantyhose and women's shoes and died with the television on.
This is the body of Piers Paolo Pasolini, the Italian writer and filmmaker, who was stabbed to death on November 30th, 1975. At first, a young street ruffian named 'Pino the Frog' told how he had been having sex with Pasolini in the park when they were set up on by three men with Sicilian accents who beat and stabbed Pasolini to death while shouting anti-gay slurs at him. However, Pino's account was since discredited, and the details of the death of one of cinema's geniuses remains a mystery.
Of course, this is taken from the movie poster for Fassbinder's Querelle, which starred Brad Davis in the role of the murderous, bisexual sailor.
Here is Little Edie near the end of the film Grey Gardens, lamenting the overbearing control her mother, Big Edie, has had on her life all these long years shut up in the ramshackle mansion on Long Island. The documentary, shot in 1975, provides a fascinating look into the mundane and eccentric lives of Jackie O's Aunt and her spinster daughter.
I'm quite proud of this one--It's a reworking of the cover of the Farber and Farber edition of Querelle.
I hope he won't mind...I recently heard from Sean, who sent me this updated photo of himself. Sean is 24 now, but he was seventeen and I was nineteen when we first met. I was a freshman living in the dorms and he would drive in from exurbia. We would go months without seeing each other sometimes, and then he'd show up and we'd spend a tender night together. He was the gentlest boy and I cared for him deeply. He chose others over me though, and that makes me sad, though deep down I know it couldn't have been different. He lives in Florida now, where he runs a successful windowblinds business with his boyfriend, who is my age. The last time I talked to Sean, his boyfriend was dying of cancer.
A random image, that's all, that I was struck by--a fine-art nude of a young man, decontextualized, taken from this link. No clue who what where when how.
The banners I've constructed for the site encapsulate in certain small ways what I hope this blog is about...
I'm a big fan of zines, diy culture and the rough aesthetics of copiers and inaccurate reproductions. This image comes from the cover of the zine Autocratic/Autoerotic.
Computers have a way of fucking things up in beautiful ways. When I began this blog, I returned to some old essays I wrote on Jean Genet in an very archaic version of Microsoft Word. Opening them, my computer jumbled the text into strange and somewhat beautiful patterns.
On the left, Justin Berry. Webcam porno star? victim of pedophiles? Born-again Christian? Federal witness? Web entrepreneur? All of the above? This photo of him is my favorite--after leaving behind his sorded webcam lifestyle, he got baptized again. On the right, Freddie Mercury. Live Aid. Bohemian Rhapsody. AIDS. "My makeup may be flaking but my smile stays on."
Speaking of autoerotics, this is an image I fell in love with a long time ago. It's a crime scene photo of a married man who died while practicing autoerotic asphyxiation, which involves masturbating while cutting off one's own airflow, which is obviously very dangerous. He is wearing pantyhose and women's shoes and died with the television on.
This is the body of Piers Paolo Pasolini, the Italian writer and filmmaker, who was stabbed to death on November 30th, 1975. At first, a young street ruffian named 'Pino the Frog' told how he had been having sex with Pasolini in the park when they were set up on by three men with Sicilian accents who beat and stabbed Pasolini to death while shouting anti-gay slurs at him. However, Pino's account was since discredited, and the details of the death of one of cinema's geniuses remains a mystery.
Of course, this is taken from the movie poster for Fassbinder's Querelle, which starred Brad Davis in the role of the murderous, bisexual sailor.
Here is Little Edie near the end of the film Grey Gardens, lamenting the overbearing control her mother, Big Edie, has had on her life all these long years shut up in the ramshackle mansion on Long Island. The documentary, shot in 1975, provides a fascinating look into the mundane and eccentric lives of Jackie O's Aunt and her spinster daughter.
I'm quite proud of this one--It's a reworking of the cover of the Farber and Farber edition of Querelle.
I hope he won't mind...I recently heard from Sean, who sent me this updated photo of himself. Sean is 24 now, but he was seventeen and I was nineteen when we first met. I was a freshman living in the dorms and he would drive in from exurbia. We would go months without seeing each other sometimes, and then he'd show up and we'd spend a tender night together. He was the gentlest boy and I cared for him deeply. He chose others over me though, and that makes me sad, though deep down I know it couldn't have been different. He lives in Florida now, where he runs a successful windowblinds business with his boyfriend, who is my age. The last time I talked to Sean, his boyfriend was dying of cancer.
A random image, that's all, that I was struck by--a fine-art nude of a young man, decontextualized, taken from this link. No clue who what where when how.
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