a weekend in Chicago, part II: a unicorn goes downtown
While awaiting the purple line train from Evanston to downtown, a unicorn ascended from the southeast sky and, to the melody of an unseen harp, introduced herself as “Destiny Aura Starlight Oleander, the third… But you can call me Destiny.”
Her psychedelic mane and that sparkle in her eyes, man, I was smitten right away.
She was exhausted from making all dreams come true, so Destiny Aura Starlight Oleander III took a nap on the train.
When we arrived she had oodles of energy and led me in a dance through the streets. Not pictured: a thoroughly unamused traffic officer.
Her with Maya Deren at the Siskel Center… Destiny has a hard time standing still for pictures.
When it was time to leave Chicago, there was no discussion — she had to ride back to Indiana with me. Destiny was a remarkable navigator, I just closed my eyes and thirty seconds later we were sitting in my apartment covered in confetti. However, after two failed attempts at domesticating mythical creatures in my life I just wasn’t ready to let her stay permanently. She was rightfully upset, but I tried to calm her by introducing her to my friends at the Unicorn Museum of southern Bloomington. Miss Destiny Aura Starlight Oleander III now resides in their permanent collection. Blow bubbles into the southeast at sunset and you will be transported to her unicove! However I could never come along — I heard from the unicorn heart curator that she doesn’t want to see me — so if you see her, tell her I love her.
Destiny Aura Starlight Oleander III & me, together for the first time.
a weekend in Chicago, part I
Introducing my best friend Kyle Tidd: consumate host, socialite, art critic, reluctant unicorn tamer.
GO CHICAGO!
What a hip motherfucker. (Photo exhibit at the Gene Siskel Film Center.)
Anyone know who this is? I love her drama. UPDATE: A kind soul informed me it was Greta Garbo. I’ve officially lost 50 film student points.
Creeping on the Joffrey Ballet through the window of the Siskel Center. Look at those lovelies! You’re instantly art when you’re a ballerina, no matter what you’re doing.
These acid-burn layered tights caused quite a stir in Macy’s. Even the high priestess of legwear, the lady working the tights counter, praised my DIY nylon-shredding skills. That’s RECESSION-PROOF TALENT, folks.
What’s that ribbon I’m standing on connected to, you ask? See Chicago Part II…
how i helped out with dinner
Chicago was mostly spent lounging like a victorian maiden in Kyle’s exquisite apartment. On more than one occasion he awoke me with a pot of fresh coffee and a jar of real whipping cream, humming as he set down the perfectly arranged tray. These images were taken around seven o’clock; I’d just gotten dressed for the day because dinner guests were arriving. I hid from everyone until food was served.
Reading: Muslim Girls & Other France for my French film class.
Wearing: Silky top & huge bangle from Factory Vintage Clothing, BDG jeans cut into shorts, Express gold tights, small bangles from Cactus Flower.
studio B
Molly Burkett, 21, was found dead from strangulation on Saturday morning in Studio B, a recording studio on the sixth floor of a downtown Chicago building.
There was evidence that she had ascended the dilapidated fire escape using a Forever 21 belt as a climbing rope, and jimmied open the window using a Cactus Flower bangle bracelet. The red orb around her neck appeared highly valuable, and police were baffled that it hadn’t been stolen, but a standard jewelry appraisal revealed it was purchased for 50 cents from a child’s machine in Kroger.
The following images were found on a Canon digital camera at the scene. It seems the victim took several fashion photos of herself inside the studio before the attack took place. When questioned Sunday afternoon, Studio B owner and equipment manager Jake Nelson said, “Serves her right for touching my bass.” Co-owner Kyle Tidd, who moonlights as an art curator, added, “Those photos are a joke. She’s just ripping off Who Killed Amanda Palmer.” Both men are being held for further questioning.
twenty twenty twenty-four hours to go.
Happy what would have been your 24th birthday, Pat! I miss you dude.
I feel your sarcastic older brother guidance all the damn time. I know smoking is bad for me, but your advice just isn’t that convincing when you say it with a cigarette dangling from your lips. I still remember the time you ceremoniously threw out a pack of Newports in front of me, Danny, and Mom just to show us you could quit anytime. Although maybe you just realized what I already knew at age fifteen: Newports suck.
I can still remember what your voice sounds like when you were trying to make a joke, and your stock answer to anyone stating their humble opinion: “Well, your opinion is wrong.”
I can remember exactly what your face looked like when you were lying – the same way it looked when you were trying not to laugh.
Someday I’ll have the strength to think about you as much as you deserve, and write it all down, or dance it all out. I will create something massive and dedicate it to you. But all I can do now is a little reminiscing.
I think of you anytime I see any of the following: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Roger Ebert, horror movies particularly anything Stephen King-related, Archie comics, Tales from the Crypt, Metallica, Slayer, and any metal-ey looking fonts. I have you to blame for my taste for the macabre in film, and probably for my dirty sense of humor (although I think the real culprit for this was Dad).
Thanks for letting me be a tag-along little sister and giving me the most random of memories: the first time ever getting drunk at a bonfire I wasn’t supposed to be at, Mountain Dew-themed parties with chugging contests and Roger Waters DVDs, the Oatmeal Creme Pie-throwing madness of Pattie’s Pancake Posse performances, countless sweaty deadofwinter and between the nightmares shows from the Armistice Room to the Legacy to the funeral home to Hip Christian Churches, and an equal number of post-show gatherings that tested the patience of waitstaff at Denny’s locations everywhere. Once all our best friends were the same people, we couldn’t help but admit we must be friends too, as much as that complicated our years of mutual disdain for one another.
Are you having fun in the free world? How’s your namesake Uncle Pat, and Grandma? Have you written any good music lately? Did you ever figure out what you wanted to do in life, and if so, how does that translate to the afterlife? Do you still drink 3-4 cans of Mountain Dew a day or have you finally grown up and switched to coffee? Are you mad at me about anything? Is there anything I could have done differently? I know I was a tattletale but in the later years I promise it was only in your best interest. (I have no excuse about earlier years when tattling was employed solely to make myself look better.) Also, the “Party Hard” mix you left in my car is dangerously scratched up, is there any way you could hook me up with some more expertly arranged CKY, Andrew W.K. and Faith No More? Let me know.
In honor of Patrick M. Burkett, January 31st, 1986-March 18, 2006:
-My dad’s saxaphone-playing alter-ego “PapaPatty” and the Blues for Patty Project
-A retrospective by my mom Zann Carter, about the years leading up to Patrick’s death
-Light a candle in Patrick’s memory
-Donate to the Patrick M. Burkett memorial fund via The Maple Center.
Images:
1. Pat in Between the Nightmares, taken by Matt Carmer
2. Pat on top of the world, taken by Amanda Jones
3. Pat (age 7) & me (age 5) playing chess, taken by our mom
4. Pat and our friend Katie at deadofwinter’s last show, taken by me
5. Teenage Mutant Ninja Pat! My first tattoo by D’Wan, Under the Gun. Polaroid by me.
why do you let me stay here?
Listen to She & Him – Why Do You Let Me Stay Here while reading to get the most out of this very Zooey Deschanel-inspired outfit.
Sometimes Zooey’s mass appeal, indie girl brand of cute is vomit-enducing, but the truth is she’s got a pretty voice and she makes lovable movies. (Impromptu dance sequence?!!! Dare you to resist.) Although I do believe her best work to date is her impeccable delivery of the line “THIS IS A HOUSE OF LIES!” in a certain best-movie-of-all-time.
Credits:
-Urban Outfitters skirt
-forgettable-mallstore shirt
-thrifted maryjane heels (my highest to date!)
-Hanna Anderson ribbed tights (stolen from my mom)
Side note: Going to Chicago for a long weekend to hang with my bestie Kyle. Expect so much fun when I return!
moonchild
My history of photography teacher spoke the other day about how striking it is to see how differently self-portrait photographers see themselves over time. So when we were given a self-portrait assignment, I deliberately put myself in the most organized looking part of my apartment to contrast my usual beauty-in-chaos habits and channel a new me. (Compare these images with old self-portraits like this and you’ll see what I mean!)
These were taken the night of the new moon, so the moment was just right for playing dress-up and taking photographs. I had bought new flowers and candles and was working on a list of wants for the coming year, which included giving my all to career projects such as this website. It definitely felt like I was harnessing the powerful energy spinning around!
I’m not sure I am quite this lady yet — calm but inventive, totally in control but a little wild, always transforming but still loving the now — but surely this little ritual will help me get there.
Credits:
-vintage faux fur coat
-thrifted slip
-Forever 21 studded belt (zips off, always causing quite a stir as you might imagine)
-Old Navy tights
-Payless heels (is discussion even necessary anymore about how much Payless is rocking it nowadays?!)
As always, these images plus outtakes are on my Flickr.
photobooth rookie
Umm I know I’m a little late on the Photobooth tip, but to settle a bet (“THAT IS TOO SMALL TO BE A CAMERA IN THERE!”) I checked it out, and… oh man. Nerdtastic experience commenced. I didn’t even dip my toes into that vast pool of special effects!!! Expect many-a computer lab photo shoot in the future. You excited?
More here!
Cardigan slash backdrop: Wet Seal bargain rack
Whimsical hairbow: H&M
Fakers (but I have contacts in!): A.J. Morgan
Black dress & plaid scarf: Goodwill
$7007 or 6 months free in New York City
I’ve truly turned over a new leaf. When I saw a friend of a friend had entered an artist’s competition calling for self-portraits (hell-oo!), my normal reaction would be to flip my shit, thinking of all the time and energy I should have put into Serious, Artsy Picturetaking in 2009 instead of… whatever it was I did in 2009. (Oh right, drink.)
But instead of getting jealous, I got inspired. Needless to say inspiration feels much better when not coupled with raging envy. I decided to just make do with what I have, which is actually a somewhat striking representation of my growth from cranky emo kid to confident Pollyanna. It’s not about winning the contest (though the prizes are PERFECT, see title of this post), but about proving to myself that it’s actually time to put what I make out into the world, instead of hiding it away in my notebooks and memory cards, waiting for the perfect moment to arrive. The perfect moment is now! Always always always now.
Go here to vote:
Artistswanted.org/mollyburkett
To add to the just-do-it tip, this post marks my official return to the blogosphere! I privatized all entries a few months ago but never stopped taking pictures, so I have about three months worth of outfit photos and other goodies to share. I will be uploading them with their proper dates (October 2009 through early January 2010) over the next few days. Yay! A big thanks to my friend Aya of Strawberry Koi for inspiring me to get back in the game.
my apartment, lately.
Surprise tulips from a sweet boy, roses for the new moon, thrifted gems, and artmaking every day with said sweet boy. Don’t mind the cigarette butts — life is fresh.
home for christmas
I was with a friend at Goodwill when he held up this furry green coat as a joke, paired with an appalling Christmas-embellished mom-vest. I pretended to laugh at first, but I knew instantly that it must be mine. Call it Paris meets Sesame Street, call it Mr. Grinch meets Hollywood, call it AWESOME for $6.49! The sad truth: I haven’t had the nerve to wear it out of the house yet.
The sparkly thing in my hair is one of my mom’s spiral Christmas ornaments, which she fashioned out of that star wire everyone had in their arts + crafts kit when they were little. The background is the closet door of my childhood/teenage bedroom, which deserves a post of its own. It’s covered in angsty lyrics circa age 12, Sharpie doodles from the various characters that hung out with me as a teenager, and evidence of having the best parents ever who didn’t care what I did as long as I didn’t talk back or come home pregnant.
steampunk sally
Best Sunday ever: Woke up on a friend’s futon, ate dumpster-dived bread for breakfast and then caught a ride to my house to pose for Sara Baldwin’s steampunk, fashion-meets-science photo project! I stood on my bed donning a Double Zero dress, my own thigh-highs (cut from Target tights) and garter (Victoria’s Secret), and attempted my best turn-of-the-century, sexy-cyborg stance. (For some reason I was imagining Helena Bonham Carter a la Sweeney Todd the whole time. HOT MESS.)
It’s easily my favorite photo ever taken of me. Sara is amazing– she’s my manager at Cactus Flower, a double major in Journalism and Photography, writes for Nuvo, and shoots weddings, bands, and parties on the side. When I asked her how she gets so much done she said, “Every day I just wake up and think, how much can I get done today?” I think about this every time I find myself lollygagging around, and snap right out of it (sometimes).
See more of Sara’s photos on her flickr page: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sararrr/, and inside her head on her Tumblr: http://thebasementjam.tumblr.com/.
le garçon et le maquillage
Got dressed really quickly this morning and threw on what used to be my uniform: solid t-shirt (a friend’s), jeans (BDG), and boys skate shoes (Walmart little boys section). I tucked my hair into a hat for good measure. But then I had to pile on a ton of make-up during my lunch break because I felt like a boob just wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I am such a primping, skirt-wearing, lipstick-toting girl now. Fuck, there’s no turning back.
not so Goodwill
Wool blazer from Goodwill.
H&M skirt.
Forever 21 top.
Red water cup from Soma Coffee. (I brought it back!!)
Thrifted scarf, rings from Cactus Flower & Forever 21.
I finally found the Perfect Black Blazer. Unfortunately, it smells like old lady.*
*An unmistakable combination of lipstick from the bottom of a purse, the last grains of powder in a compact, and something flowery and stale that I can’t quite define. If it were a color it would be peach.
fell from a fairytale
Express perfect black dress.
Thermal cut into cardigan.
Mismatched wool socks stolen from my mom.
Thrifted gold necklace worn in hair.
To add to my kick of using things inappropriately (tube tops as dresses, jewelry as hair accessories, cigarettes as therapy), I wore a necklace on my head today. Had several exchanges that went something like:
-”I like your headband!”
“Haha thanks, it’s a necklace!”
-”Oh…dork.”
Pffft. You know, in this economy we have to be industrious, and I like anything that makes me feel like a medieval princess.