Jeff sent me this video a few days ago and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since. It is so ridiculously bizarre! (Like, the kind of bizarre you watch over and over again, not the kind that haunts your dreams….yet.) A life-size, overweight pig in a suit coat seeks a strumpet’s affections; she spurns him, only to make him strip to dance with her? He seems to enjoy getting down in the buff, they synchronize their feet and a good time is had by all while the piano player does his thing.
Entitled “Le Cochon Danseur,” this short film was based on a popular Vaudeville act in the early 20th century. It’s kind of crazy to realize how much humor and theater has changed in a mere one hundred years. (I can’t help but connect this to clowns and the circus. Does anyone sincerely adore clowns anymore? No one that I know of…and if they do, they haven’t seenIt yet, a.k.a. the movie that instilled my childhood fear of toilets, sewers and the aforementioned clowns. Ack.)
Also, when he shows his teeth and sticks out his tongue at the end: I may take back what I said about nightmares. Slightly traumatizing.
There was a time that I never thought of France. It somehow seemed the obvious place to visit, with it’s romantic and “whimsical” connotations. (“We’ll picnic under the Eiffel Tower, mon cheri! Bring your striped shirt.”)
However, I’m glad to say that I’m over my misguided delusions (with the help of Julia Child and David Sedaris). France now seems like a wonderland of amazing flea markets, medical museums, stinky cheese and taxidermy for miles — all on my “can’t live without” list. Joanna Maclennan‘s photos of Avignon boutique Vox Populi exemplifies all of my expectations.
Artists and Vox Populi owners Pascale Pulin and her husband Bruno have translated their many collections into a life-size cabinet of curiosities. Located in Provence, the peeling wallpaper, bell jars and many scattered bits and pieces of ephemera give this atelier a storybook quality. It’s as though I’m stepping back in time. In the words of Alice Sebold, “lovely bones.” (I think I want to make that my new catchphrase.)
I now want nothing more than to visit France’s winding cobblestone streets. Bring on the fromage, mon cher!
My name is Alison and this is where I obsess // muse // and drop all of the the curious, obsolete, outré and otherwise noteworthy things I come across on the weird, wide expanse that is the Internet.
