Good art:

1) Does it make me feel something?
2) Do I think about it after I view it?

I'm realizing that, at least at this point, these two points are what I'm looking for in any work, whether it be film, photography, fashion, etc. And it's not that I'm trying to tell others what is "good art" or "bad art". If anything, these two points suggest how subjective that is. I'm just trying to understand what it is that moves me.

I must have some sort of experience with it. For me, feelings = experience. So that's what really drives how I see things...

LONG HAIR ♥

I've decided to move forward and grow my hair out. Trust me, I've been so tempted to trim my hair these past few weeks, but I'm just keeping with it. I actually wear my hair flat now, which I used to be deathly afraid of. My old hairstyle completely revolved around having big hair. But it's okay.

My hair is almost getting to a mullet stage. It's definitely at an awkward in-between phase, but it could be worse. Pretty soon I'm going to have to tie it up in an "art school ponytail," you know, the ponytail that looks like a paintbrush because the hair is so few and so short, but there's no other option because otherwise it looks like a mullet.

When my hair finally gets long, there are a few things I want to do with it: tie it up in a bun (bun head) because it looks really funny (picture 2), and wear a beanie and have my hair fall out on the sides messily (4). It looks so good!! Also, I want to do the ponytail like in Dries Van Noten Autumn/Winter 2011.

I heard that if you massage your head, your hair will grow faster. I don't know if it's true, but at least massaging my head feels good anyway. Otherwise I'd just be wasting my energy.

I don't even know if I look good with long hair. I've had short hair for the past 4-5 years... but I figure, if it doesn't look good, I can just cut it again. And donate it or something.

Vanessa

Stress

My footprint in this house is becoming smaller and smaller. Earlier today I found the area I normally occupy at the dinner table covered in snacks and napkins. I realized I haven't had dinner at home in weeks. I come home late from work and they don't wait for me. Or I just get it myself. And I prefer it that way.

I can already see the transformation, my parents are turning into babies and I am trying to grow up. My dad always asks me to help him update his facebook statuses, and yesterday I told him I would teach him how to do it himself because I won't be in this house much longer. He started fake weeping and complaining, complaining that I can't leave him until I get married and move away. And I wanted to punch a wall.

My dad says I can't leave until I get married. My mom says I can't leave until I can afford my own house. They want a big, 30+ year old Vanessa baby because there are 30-45 year old babies in my extended family. I think they're pathetic. Even my parents think those cousins of mine are pathetic. How can you live in the house you grew up in for so long? It seems painful. Living here is painful for me. And I'm 18.

I'm not a parent, so I don't know. But I honestly think that after 18 years, my kids should probably go learn to fend for themselves. No one grows up being babied. They just stay babies forever.

Honestly, I'm writing all this, but I've been leaving my strongest feelings out. This whole situation truly has me so stressed out and frustrated. I feel like I'm stuck in a cage. My parents don't understand that I don't want or need what they're offering me (e.g. rides from a bus stop a block away to our house because they think I can't walk home by myself) and that what they're really doing is making me hate them. They need to get with the times and let me go. This is too much.

Lately I've been really aware of how much space I'm given. Not just mentally/otherwise with my parents, but physical space--in public, walking down the street, etc. And now it bothers me more than ever when I'm not given a proper amount of space. It stresses me out. I see space as a really political thing. If you are in a public space, a perfect situation being the bus, really observe and analyze who is given the most space. And how someone moves around certain people and how their body language differs. It's all very interesting. The truth is, just because I'm physically small doesn't mean I don't need space. If I'm already taking up so little space, don't try to take even more away from me. I'm not afraid to retaliate anymore because I know how it affects me. And if you treat me like I'm small, I'll do something to prove to you just how small I am not.

In terms of the bigger picture, what I am really working on right now is communicating--communicating with my parents and with the outside world. It's like Audre Lorde said, "your silence will not protect you." For me it really is about taking up space. Because if you don't take up space, you don't exist. And I can't be erased.

Work 4.18

After the media blitz in the fall of 2010 on queer youth suicides, some schools began to talk about more bullying and how to stop it. Unfortunately, solutions to issues that affect youth never will be realized in a room void of youth voice and youth leadership. In an educational system where the curriculum does not include diversity training or history that is reflective of the students who are forced to participate in it, the system is the bully. Students have already long realized that their "real" education will not come from such a system, and they turn to other sources, such as friends and community, the internet, and other media sources for information that is relevant to them.

Mainstream media needs to be real about what queer youth go through and what their needs are. Often the narrative used to describe queer individuals' experiences is the same--tragic, bullied, and suicidal. While this narrative and/or aspects of it can be true to someone's experience, this has become a stereotypical portrayal of queer life, and it completely casts a shadow over the reality that being queer and/or transgender can be amazing and that real community exists. Mainstream coverage of a queer movement that is led by young people, girls, transgender people, and people of color would be revolutionary.

*Note to self: Need to stop pushing writing assignments like this to late at night. The work suffers without a doubt.

Less God, More Godard

Jean Pierre Leaud in Masculin Féminin, 1966* My first Godard film.


Anna Karina and Eddie Constantine in Alphaville, 1965


Anna Karina in Le Petit Soldat, 1960


Jean Seberg in A bout de souffle, 1960




My favorite, so there are three! Couldn't find one with Belmondo though...

Credit: Peggy Moffit

I have a Giants outfit too

All black with neon orange Stephen Sprouse LV graffiti speedy and oversized wayfarers. DONE!

P.S. Flat hair.

Stressed.

Should've moved to New York when I had an excuse to. Should've wasted $50k a year of my parents' money like everyone else who went off to art school.

Shouldn't have stayed here. Caged up like a twelve year old. Micromanaged to the bone. Stressed out over explaining every thing.

I'm not out. I can't afford my own apartment. I'm trying to find another job. I can't drive. I can't grow up. Not here.

Early April Inspiration

1. Chantal Goya in Masculin Féminin, Godard, 1966 2. Ed Ruscha 3. Clean interiors, the opposite of my room

The Journey to Sun Fei Fei Hair

Devil on my shoulder: ✁✁✁
Angel: STICK WITH IT

Hair, please grow out soon. I don't know what to do with you.

P.S. (-_^)−☆

A thought 4.2.11

One time I was shopping with my mom and she dragged me into some awful store like Old Navy or something. This random lady came up to me, eyed me up and down, and told me that "you must always match your blacks." Stupid fashion rule. Do you think Rei Kawakubo follows a stupid rule like that? No. It's a rule reserved for people who think they know fashion but are dressed in the most boring and uninspired clothes ever. I never understood those people who criticize others who are actually wearing something interesting or criticize designers' work when they don't even look like they care about fashion themselves. If you are interested in fashion, it should show.

Lost In Translation

Two frames. A million words.

Lost In Translation, dir. Sofia Coppola, 2003

I know I've spent the last few months upset over the same person. I'm beginning to move on now. But there are still some things that remind me of him, like this film. Even though it's really more about me than him.

I'm beginning to accept that the Vanessa that was before I met him doesn't exist anymore. And I have to stop trying to get her back. This is a new reality. It's funny because I can pinpoint the exact moment that I changed. Or maybe that I changed little by little with every moment. As much as I don't like to admit it, I have learned something from this annoying situation. I guess that's life.

When we dated I was so obsessed with making everything cinematic. Coincidentally around that time I also stopped watching 5-7+ films every week, which I had been doing for months. I think the films brainwashed me to a certain extent. I felt anything was possible with him. But it was just the same shit again.

I guess, I should thank him for waking me up. I had been asleep for months. I had been in a rut ever since dropping out of art school. After him I didn't feel like staying home and staring at French New Wave actors' faces and gestures anymore. But I did feel used and stupid... stupid for believing in him and caring about him. Just another boy who let me down. There are many who have gone past letting me down... I remember all who wronged me. I don't forget. How could you ask me to?

I'm trying to let go of the bitterness, disappointment and anger. It's okay. It's a new month. I can let it go.