Kenneth Anger’s Hollywood Babylon (Nigel Finch, 1991)

Nigel Finch’s 1991 doc­u­men­tary cov­er­ing many of the sto­ries from Ken­neth Anger’s sor­did Hol­ly­wood gos­sip book of the same name.

An inter­est­ing arti­fact on early Los Ange­les myth, glam­our, and tragedy — regard­less of rel­a­tive verac­ity of the stories.


The Journals of André Gide

Wilde’s affected aes­theti­cism was for him merely an inge­nious cloak to hide, while half reveal­ing, what he could not let be seen openly … Here, as almost always, and often even with­out the artist’s know­ing it, it is the secret of the depths of his flesh that prompts, inspires, and decides…

Wilde’s plays reveal, beside the sur­face wit­ti­cisms, sparkling like false jew­els, many oddly rev­e­la­tory sen­tences of great psy­cho­log­i­cal inter­est. And it is for them that Wilde wrote the whole play––let there be no doubt about it…

Try to let some under­stand what one has an inter­est in hid­ing from all. As for me, I have always pre­ferred frank­ness. But Wilde made up his mind to make of false­hood a work of art. Noth­ing is more pre­cious, more tempt­ing, more flat­ter­ing than to see in the work of art a false­hood and, rec­i­p­ro­cally, to look upon false­hood as a work of art… This artis­tic hypocrisy was imposed on him… by the need of self-protection.

— André Gide, on Oscar Wilde, from The Jour­nals of André Gide

On ne décou­vre pas de terre nou­velle sans con­sen­tir à per­dre de vue, d’abord et longtemps, tout rivage.”

One doesn’t dis­cover new lands with­out con­sent­ing to lose sight, for a very long time, of the shore.“
― André Gide


Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish” The Whole Earth Catalog Now Online

Between 1968 and 1972, Stew­art Brand pub­lished The Whole Earth Cat­a­log an Amer­i­can coun­ter­cul­ture cat­a­log. It was essen­tially “a paper-based data­base offer­ing thou­sands of hacks, tips, tools, sug­ges­tions, and pos­si­bil­i­ties for opti­miz­ing your life.” For Steve Jobs, it was a “Bible” of his gen­er­a­tion, a life –trans­form­ing publication.

Click on the image above to go to the online ver­sion of the The Whole Earth Cat­a­log that is now avail­able online. The col­lec­tion of that work pro­vided on this site is not com­plete — and prob­a­bly never will be — but it is a gift to read­ers who loved the CATALOG and those who are dis­cov­er­ing it for the first time.

The title Whole Earth Cat­a­log came from a pre­vi­ous project of Stew­art Brand. In 1966, he ini­ti­ated a pub­lic cam­paign to have NASA release the then-rumored satel­lite photo of the sphere of Earth as seen from space, the first image of the “Whole Earth.” He thought the image might be a pow­er­ful sym­bol, evok­ing a sense of shared des­tiny and adap­tive strate­gies from peo­ple. The Stanford-educated Brand, a biol­o­gist with strong artis­tic and social inter­ests, believed that there was a groundswell of com­mit­ment to thor­oughly ren­o­vat­ing Amer­i­can indus­trial soci­ety along eco­log­i­cally and socially just lines, what­ever they might prove to be.

Steve Jobs, chief exec­u­tive offi­cer and co-founder of Apple Com­puter and of Pixar Ani­ma­tion Stu­dios, urged grad­u­ates at Stan­ford to pur­sue their dreams and see the oppor­tu­ni­ties in life’s set­backs — includ­ing death itself — at the university’s 114th Com­mence­ment on June 12, 2005.

Jobs explained why he drew inspi­ra­tion from this intel­lec­tual cre­ation of the 60s counterculture:

When I was young, there was an amaz­ing pub­li­ca­tion called The Whole Earth Cat­a­log, which was one of the bibles of my gen­er­a­tion. It was cre­ated by a fel­low named Stew­art Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960′s, before per­sonal com­put­ers and desk­top pub­lish­ing, so it was all made with type­writ­ers, scis­sors, and polaroid cam­eras. It was sort of like Google in paper­back form, 35 years before Google came along: it was ide­al­is­tic, and over­flow­ing with neat tools and great notions.

Stew­art and his team put out sev­eral issues of The Whole Earth Cat­a­log, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a pho­to­graph of an early morn­ing coun­try road, the kind you might find your­self hitch­hik­ing on if you were so adven­tur­ous. Beneath it were the words: “Stay Hun­gry. Stay Fool­ish.” It was their farewell mes­sage as they signed off. Stay Hun­gry. Stay Fool­ish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you grad­u­ate to begin anew, I wish that for you.”

You can watch the video below


Aubrey Beardsley

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Aubrey Beard­s­ley was born on 21 August, 1872, in Brighton, England. The fam­ily, of mid­dle and upper mid­dle class ori­gins, was often nearly des­ti­tute. He attended Bris­tol Gram­mar School for four years as a boarder, indulging in his tal­ents by draw­ing car­i­ca­tures of his teachers.

In Feb­ru­ary of 1893, Wilde’s scan­dalous play Salome was pub­lished in its orig­i­nal French ver­sion. An illus­tra­tion inspired by the drama was admired by Wilde and Beard­s­ley was com­mis­sioned to Illus­trate the Eng­lish edi­tion (1894).

Not con­tent with art alone, Beard­s­ley expressed an intense desire to trans­late the French text after Wilde found the trans­la­tion by his inti­mate, Lord Alfred Dou­glas, to be unsat­is­fac­tory. This assign­ment was the begin­ning of celebrity but also of an uneasy, and at times unpleas­ant, friend­ship with Wilde, which offi­cially ended when Wilde was tried and con­victed of sodomy in 1895.

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Beardsley’s fame was estab­lished for all time when the first vol­ume The Yel­low Book appeared in April 1894. This famous quar­terly of art and lit­er­a­ture, for which Beard­s­ley served as art edi­tor and the Amer­i­can expa­tri­ate Henry Har­land as lit­er­ary edi­tor, brought the artist’s work to a larger public.

It was Beardsley’s star­ling black-and-white draw­ings, titlepages, and cov­ers which, com­bined with the writ­ings of the so-called “deca­dents,” a unique for­mat, and pub­lisher John Lane’s remark­able mar­ket­ing strate­gies, made the jour­nal an overnight sen­sa­tion. Although well received by much of the pub­lic, The Yel­low Book was attacked by crit­ics as inde­cent. So strong was the per­ceived link between Beard­s­ley, Wilde, and The Yel­low Book that Beard­s­ley was dis­missed in April 1895 from his post as art edi­tor fol­low­ing Wilde’s arrest, even though Wilde had in fact never con­tributed to the magazine.

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The film Af­ter Be­ards­ley at­tempts to de­pict to­day’s world through Be­ards­ley’s eyes and in his draw­ing style. Show­ing Be­ards­ley’s bet­ter known draw­ings, so­me of which ta­ke on a dif­fe­rent gui­se la­ter in the film. Writ­ten and drawn by Chris James.

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Sigur Rós’ Jónsi & Alex’s Good Heart Recipe Book!

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It’s an online, hand­writ­ten all vegan recipe book writ­ten by Jónsi & Alex. You’ll prob­a­bly know Jónsi as part of the Ice­landic post-rock band, Sigur Rós, and Jónsi & Alex is a col­lab­o­ra­tion between he and his part­ner, Alex Somers. They released the album Rice­boy Sleeps, which is great!

I love the book, espe­cially that you can flip the pages with the mouse. You can also down­load the book as PDF file by click­ing on the image above.

The pic­tures are beau­ti­ful, and it’s lovely that every­thing is hand-written. I’m really lik­ing the look of the straw­berry milk­shake and the tomato sauce, as you can see. I have only tried the Macadamia Mon­ster Mash sev­eral times and is always very good. You can see how they make it in the video below. I can’t wait to try the rest out!


Keith Haring’s Journals

The Keith Har­ing Foun­da­tion has scanned Keith’s jour­nals from 1971 to 1989, some of which are fea­tured in Keith Har­ing: 1978–1982. A page will be posted each day for the dura­tion of the show, which will be on view at the Brook­lyn Museum from March 16 through July 8, 2012. The exhi­bi­tion is the first large-scale pre­sen­ta­tion to explore the early works of one of the best-known Amer­i­can artists of the twen­ti­eth century.

Click on the Polaroid for the Journal.…


Bad Children’s Books by Bob Staake

Get­ting offended can be such a fun feel­ing, espe­cially when it’s art and humor where no one is being spared.

Bob Staake has cre­ated a super cute series of “Satire, Humor and Visual Par­ody of Clas­sic Children’s Books From the 1940s Through 1960s.” Pre­pare to learn how to make money, what Bukowski really does to chil­dren, and just what does daddy have in the trunk…


William S. Burroughs Reading Junky

Above is an illus­tra­tion by artist ~cal­tron (Isam S. Prado) of William Bur­roughs’ novel Junky.

“The ques­tion is fre­quently asked: Why does a man become a drug addict?
The answer is that he usu­ally does not intend to become an addict. You don’t wake up one morn­ing and decide to be a drug addict. It takes at least three months’ shoot­ing twice a day to get any habit at all. And you don’t really know what junk sick­ness is until you have had sev­eral habits. It took me almost six months to get my first habit, and then the with­drawal symp­toms were mild. I think it no exag­ger­a­tion to say it takes about a year and sev­eral hun­dred injec­tions to make an addict.”

Six years before he pub­lished his break­through novel, Naked Lunch (1959), William S. Bur­roughs broke into the lit­er­ary scene with Junky (some­times also called Junkie), a can­did, semi-autobiographical account of an “unre­deemed drug addict.” It’s safe to say that the book wouldn’t have seen the light of day if Allen Gins­berg hadn’t taken Bur­roughs under his wing and edited the man­u­script. The book, orig­i­nally pub­lished under the pseu­do­nym “William Lee,” was dis­trib­uted by Ace Books, a pub­lish­ing house that tar­geted New York City sub­way rid­ers. Below, you can lis­ten to Bur­roughs read­ing a three-hour abridged ver­sion of the text.

The ques­tions, of course, could be asked: Why did you ever try nar­cotics? Why did you con­tinue using it long enough to become an addict? You become a nar­cotics addict because you do not have strong moti­va­tions in the other direc­tion. Junk wins by default. I tried it as a mat­ter of curios­ity. I drifted along tak­ing shots when I could score. I ended up hooked. Most addicts I have talked to report a sim­i­lar expe­ri­ence. They did not start using drugs for any rea­son they can remem­ber. They just drifted along until they got hooked. If you have never been addicted, you can have no clear idea what it means to need junk with the addict’s spe­cial need. You don’t decide to be an addict. One morn­ing you wake up sick and you’re an addict.”

If like me, you can not get enough of William Bur­roughs, I invite you to stay with us a lit­tle longer and watch the fol­low­ing 1983 doc­u­men­tary by Howard Brookner. At the begin­ning of it, you will be able to see William S. Bur­roughs’ first appear­ance on Amer­i­can national tele­vi­sion. Appro­pri­ately, it was on the irrev­er­ent, late-night com­edy show, Sat­ur­day Night Live. I hope you enjoy it.


The Beat Hotel

The Beat Hotel, a new film by Doc­u­men­tary Arts, goes deep into the legacy of the Amer­i­can Beats in Paris dur­ing the heady years between 1957 and 1963, when Allen Gins­berg, Peter Orlovsky and Gre­gory Corso fled the obscen­ity tri­als in the United States sur­round­ing the pub­li­ca­tion of Gins­bergs poem Howl. They took refuge in a cheap no-name hotel they had heard about at 9, Rue Git le Coeur and were soon joined by William Bur­roughs, Ian Somerville, Brion Gysin, and oth­ers from Eng­land and else­where in Europe, seek­ing out the free­dom that the Latin Quar­ter of Paris might provide.

The Beat Hotel, as it came to be called, was a sanc­tu­ary of cre­ativ­ity, but was also, as British pho­tog­ra­pher Harold Chap­man recalls, an entire com­mu­nity of com­plete odd­balls, bizarre, strange peo­ple, poets, writ­ers, artists, musi­cians, pimps, pros­ti­tutes, police­men, and every­body you could imag­ine. And in this envi­ron­ment, Bur­roughs fin­ished his con­tro­ver­sial book Naked Lunch; Ian Somerville and Brion Gysin invented the Dream Machine; Corso wrote some of his great­est poems; and Harold Norse, in his own cut-up exper­i­ments, wrote the novella, aptly called The Beat Hotel.

The film tracks down Harold Chap­man in the small sea­side town of Deal in Kent Eng­land. Chap­mans pho­tographs are iconic of a time and place when Gins­berg, Orlovsky, Corso, Bur­roughs, Gysin, Somerville and Norse were just begin­ning to estab­lish them­selves on the inter­na­tional scene. Chap­man lived in the attic of the hotel, and accord­ing to Gins­berg didnt say a word for two years because he wanted to be invis­i­ble and to doc­u­ment the scene as it actu­ally happened.

In the film, Chap­mans pho­tographs and styl­ized dra­matic recre­ations of his sto­ries meld with the rec­ol­lec­tions of Elliot Rudie, a Scot­tish artist, whose draw­ings of his time in the hotel offer a poignant and some­times humor­ous coun­ter­point. The mem­o­ries of Chap­man and Rudie inter­weave with the insights of French artist Jean-Jacques Lebel, author Barry Miles, Dan­ish film­maker Lars Movin, and the first hand accounts of Oliver Har­ris, Regina Wein­rich, Patrick Amie, Eddie Woods, and 95 year old George Whit­man, among oth­ers, to evoke a por­trait of Gins­berg, Bur­roughs, Corso and the odd­i­ties of the Beat Hotel that is at once unex­pected and revealing.


Ritual and Burnt Offering — The Cult of The Wicker Man

Rit­ual is a hor­ror novel by British actor and author David Pin­ner, first pub­lished in 1967. The pro­tag­o­nist of Rit­ual is an Eng­lish police offi­cer named David Han­lin. A puri­tan­i­cal Chris­t­ian, Han­lin is requested to inves­ti­gate what appears to be the rit­u­al­is­tic mur­der of a local child in an enclosed rural Cor­nish vil­lage. Dur­ing his short stay, Han­lin deals with psy­cho­log­i­cal trick­ery, sex­ual seduc­tion, ancient reli­gious prac­tices and night­mar­ish sac­ri­fi­cial rituals.

Shrouded in the same brand of mys­tery and con­tra­dic­tion that forms its tan­gled plot, Rit­ual, the 1967 debut by RADA-trained play­wright David Pin­ner is com­monly recog­nised by cult cin­ema fanat­ics as the orig­i­nal seed that grew into the tow­er­ing movie enigma The Wicker Man.

In 1973, Rit­ual was used as the basis for The Wicker Man, a British hor­ror film directed by Robin Hardy and writ­ten for the screen by Anthony Shaf­ferEdward Wood­ward stars as the police­man, renamed Sergeant Neil Howie. Pin­ner dis­cussed the book in a 2011 inter­view. “I then sold the film rights of the book to Christo­pher Lee in 1971 – the basic idea and the struc­ture of it was used for The Wicker Man.”

As a result of the film’s pop­u­lar­ity, Rit­ual became a much sought-after collector’s item, and was being sold for £400 to £500 on eBay. It was not until the 2011 reprint that the novel became widely avail­able.

Watch below the doc­u­men­tary “Burnt Offer­ing — The Cult of the Wicker Man” where the cast and main play­ers in the crew come together to dis­cuss the mak­ing of cult British hor­ror film The Wicker Man. They dis­cuss the adap­ta­tion of the source mate­r­ial, the cast­ing process and the dif­fi­cult shoot which dealt with every­thing from a sum­mer film being shot in late autumn and the trou­bles of the actual wicker man itself.