“poetic language”… is an unsettling process—when not an outright destruction—of the identity of meaning and speaking subject, and consequently, of transcendence or, by derivation, of “religious sensitivity.”
Julia Kristeva, Desire in Language
“May my story be beautiful and unwind like a long thread… ,” she recites as she begins her story. A story that stays inexhaustible within its own limits
Theodore Miller, Lee Miller and Tanja Ramm in Miller’s Paris studio having breakfast in bed in the company of a wall hanging by Jean Cocteau, after 1929.
(Source: pippin-took, via provenance)
13 I want ridiculousness in fashion. I want ugly. I want destruction, I want imperfection, flaws, ripped seams, extra armholes, mutated glory that when people walk by me they whisper that they just don’t get it. I want to confuse you. I don’t want timelessness. I want everything, right here, right now, no regard for looking regal or rich or calm and collected. Why do I have to be classy anyway? Why do I need to impress you? When I slip on something I love I’m not doing it for you, I am doing it to feel good about myself, I am doing it to be transported into a place in my mind where I am safe and powerful and the cracks in my existence are filled with gold and diamonds and chocolate and goodness. I want to be able to change what I’m wearing mid walk — flip my jacket inside out, upside down, endless options, I want to tear apart what I’m wearing and what I represent and build back up again. I want you to have to think about what I represent, the space I take up. I want you running scared because you don’t understand and I don’t want you to. Every fucking seam of my jacket represents something you can’t have because I don’t want you to.This is mine.All mine.You can’t have it.-Arabelle Sicardi,
work in progress
“Goddess”
thread on found fabric
may 2012
by wolf moon
i don’t know exactly how many homes I’ve had
i do know that sometimes i take it for granted.
i think home is an idea, where all thing can begin to change
to take shape
to happen.
i think its where we learn what fabric means
the fabric of family, the fabric of friendship, whatever that means
do you know what i mean?
fabric tends to blanket a necessary nostalgia around my hands and eyes
like, sleep
sleep when youre awake, still, silence, enveloping a kind of warm, oven-baked silence
like, dreams
the smoke from the incense burning on a plate in your room
watch those dreams
take shape
sound
color
movement
the material,
where you learn
alot
of stuff.
the homegrown fiber spinning, spinning, threads form human creations,
boy, girl, it doesn’t matter really.
you are a texture
you are a song
you are a feeling
you are time
you are
homegrown
you are home
I just received this rad book Raw Materials in the mail that i’ve got a feature in and has been two years in the making! It’s one of the more awesome art coffee table books I’ve seen in a while.. So many amazing makers of things in those pages!!
4 
SAVE THE DATE: JUNE 23, 2012
About SLUTWALK SACRAMENTO:
“On January 24th, 2011, a representative of the Toronto Police gave shocking insight into the Force’s view of sexual assault by stating: “women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized”.
As the city’s major protective service, the Toronto Police have perpetuated the myth and stereotype of ‘the slut’, and in doing so have failed us. With sexual assault already a significantly under-reported crime, survivors have now been given even less of a reason to go to the Police, for fear that they could be blamed. Being assaulted isn’t about what you wear; it’s not even about sex; but using a pejorative term to rationalize inexcusable behaviour creates an environment in which it’s okay to blame the victim.
Historically, the term ‘slut’ has carried a predominantly negative connotation. Aimed at those who are sexually promiscuous, be it for work or pleasure, it has primarily been women who have suffered under the burden of this label. And whether dished out as a serious indictment of one’s character or merely as a flippant insult, the intent behind the word is always to wound, so we’re taking it back. “Slut” is being re-appropriated.
We are tired of being oppressed by slut-shaming; of being judged by our sexuality and feeling unsafe as a result. Being in charge of our sexual lives should not mean that we are opening ourselves to an expectation of violence, regardless if we participate in sex for pleasure or work. No one should equate enjoying sex with attracting sexual assault.
We are a movement demanding that our voices be heard. We are here to call foul on our Police Force and demand change. We want Toronto Police Services to take serious steps to regain our trust. We want to feel that we will be respected and protected should we ever need them, but more importantly be certain that those charged with our safety have a true understanding of what it is to be a survivor of sexual assault — slut or otherwise.
We are tired of speeches filled with lip service and the apologies that accompany them. What we want is meaningful dialogue and we are doing something about it: WE ARE COMING TOGETHER. Not only as women, but as people from all gender expressions and orientations, all walks of life, levels of employment and education, all races, ages, abilities, and backgrounds, from all points of this city and elsewhere.
We are asking you to join us for SlutWalk, to make a unified statement about sexual assault and victims’ rights and to demand respect for all. Whether a fellow slut or simply an ally, you don’t have to wear your sexual proclivities on your sleeve, we just ask that you come. Any gender-identification, any age. Singles, couples, parents, sisters, brothers, children, friends. Come walk or roll or strut or holler or stomp with us. This has become a global movement, with Satellites happening all over the world.”
—Slutwalk Toronto
Composition #2
Some salvaged and recycled sweater bits i’ll be trading soon out of the trunk of my car, under the label WOLF MOON.
1 
Composition #1
Some salvaged and recycled sweater bits i’ll be trading soon out of the trunk of my car, under the label WOLF MOON.
