christiearson

[christiearson]

Children’s book about little girl who can’t find shoes her size so she’s makes her own out of twigs and cardboard and then the shoe fairies take her to the shoe queen to help her and plead with the queen to turn them into big beautiful custom boots and when she comes home everyone at school wishes they had the biggest feet like her and she’s me the girl is me right now

[christiearson]

Life blooming

[christiearson]

J.D.s zine 1989

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Canadas first sex change patient, Dianna Boileau

[christiearson]

Discarded Spam in front of the Asylum

[christiearson]

Lets get a noise complaint for old times’ sake

[christiearson]

[christiearson]

When we heal..

[christiearson]

I have been in crisis for 5 months

[christiearson]

Forest veins they can’t stop cutting

[christiearson]

[christiearson]

Secret Sufjan mastery

[christiearson]

Children’s book about little girl who can’t find shoes her size so she’s makes her own out of twigs and cardboard and then the shoe fairies take her to the shoe queen to help her and plead with the queen to turn them into big beautiful custom boots and when she comes home everyone at school wishes they had the biggest feet like her and she’s me the girl is me right now

[christiearson]

via

[christiearson]

While I’m on an absolute contemporary art kick, let’s talk about the Handphone Table by Laurie Anderson.

Originally created in the late 1970’s, visitors entering the exhibit room would stumble upon an wooden table, a few chairs and a photo on the wall depicting two patrons at the same table with their elbows up and hands over their ears.

Naturally most visitors would sit down at the table and try to match the people in the picture. And in doing so, they would be quite surprised to hear Anderson’s voice coming through their hands as if she was entering their consciousness.

What they didn’t know was Anderson had installed a secret, special speaker inside the table that transmitted sound vibrations through solid material rather than air. That is to say, the listeners’ bones conducted her recorded voice.

It was a way for a performance artist to be invisible and yet still present…inside a visitor’s head.

I stumbled upon an alternate, updated version of this artwork at the Hirshhorn, where instead of her voice, I heard her droning, experimental music vibrating up my arms and into my ears (among many talents, she is also a composer). Still just as trippy and deliciously creepy though. ;)