fromthemouthofmoi

People used to whistle. In old black and white films from the 30's and 40's people were seen whistling. I am trying to remember how it was used in film back then and I seem to recall it was an activity given to delinquents on corners, as a precursor to flirting; a way of being noticed, and when danger was imminent. But there was a time when everyday people whistled and hummed while they worked. I am incapable of whistling and I attribute this to having had braces as a child. I can purse my lips and blow out air but what comes out sounds like a pathetic wheeze as though my whistle is permanently dry. To wet your whistle. Up until this moment I thought the phrase meant to lubricate the mouth by licking ones lips to prepare for whistling. In fact it means to have a drink which I guess means to wet the part of your body where a whistle emanates from. When you watch whistlers whistle they are often seen licking their lips to re-lubricate for the next sound to emerge from their m

I was recently contacted by ARTSY. NET   and asked if I might wish to put a link to their site on my blog. A staff member there had read my three piece series about the work of Björk . Specifically I was asked if I would link to their profile on Matthew Barney, Björk's ex husband. My original assumption was that the entire website was devoted to Barney, whom I explained, I was not a big fan of, but this is not the case. They are devoted to a plethora of art from sculpture to paintings, from photography to glassworks.  Their goal is to bring art to the anyone with an internet connection.  As well, they have live auctions where one can buy art pieces online. On principle I like and encourage people to expose themselves to art in any way possible. Look at it. Struggle to understand what is being conveyed. What is art? A statement without words? Something frivolous? Decoration? Or a visual mapping of history? When I entered the website I was reminded of something important that w

I am greeted by an amalgamation of all my former lovers. The skin of one, that hair of another. The smell of one, the natter of another. We sit by the seaside looking at shells. I am in the company of the familiar. They have returned for one more conversation.