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"hair" Tag

Here, here little foxie

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

I like this one.

Or maybe not. Because it’s orange. I hate orange.

Or do I.

Strong feelings, dragging both ways. It hurts. No, I like this one. But it’s orange.

Since I moved to Holland I think orange is the colour of annoyance. It represents drunk and ignorant people with no sense for fashion, running around in the streets, pissing in my staircase and littering the veins of Amsterdam.

But also, the colour of my hair. Gingerlicious. Makes me wonder, is it so, that also I am one of those?

Well I guess a little bit yes and a little bit no. As in all deep cases in life, it’s easy to get lost in this grey area of orange. To be or not to be – a deuce.

No, I like it. Because it doesn’t say anything about what the author has between his or her legs, even though it’s tagged with feminism. I like it because it represents a feministic artist and not a gender. A genderless-looking book full of questions about gender. Orange, square and just a book. Perfect to sneak in to any chauvinist nearby. And then the chauvinist finds it and picks it up and is like yeah cool orange book gonna look in it. And then is all oh yeah cool book no way cool stuff oh my god and comes out from the situation a bit less chauvinistic and a bit more enlightened. Never thought about that when you picked up an orange, easy book huh? Nice one.

Yes, I like it because it’s orange. And sneaky. And smart. Like a fox. Fox-book.

Rietveld Library

to be continued ………..[X]

These black hairs in my ass will soon be in Yours.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

It’s a screaming gorilla. And it could be me.
Many times when the subject is discussed I really do feel like I’m another type of animal than the others around me. We speak different languages although it all sounds like English. I’m made fun of, I’m put in a gorilla suit.
The gorilla girl.
When I first came to Rietveld and discovered the lack of knowledge and interest I was stunned. The situation baffled me for a second before I realized how freaking much work there is to be done here.
The sleeves of my gorilla suit are rolled up and I’m ready to go to work. I’m a hardheaded one. Because I do it for You. I do it for Your grandma, Your sister, Your dad and the entire payroll of society.
And of course, for myself. The fucking gorilla suit is making me sweat. And sometimes I must admit that it brings out sides in me that are not the most flattering. Chest pounding is very powerful and expressive, but not always convincing. And to make people scared of the gorilla won’t help my cause.
Feminism. It’s a field of Science. Not my personal gorilla opinions. First lesson taught, right there.

Rietveld Library 708.4

Tree of Life

Monday, September 14, 2009

A braid (also called plait) is a complex structure or pattern formed by intertwining three or more strands of flexible material such as textile fibers, wire, or human hair. Compared to the process of weaving a wide sheet of cloth from two separate, perpendicular groups of strands (warp and weft), a braid is usually long and narrow, with each component strand functionally equivalent in zigzagging forward through the overlapping mass of the others.
Hairflowers and memory boards were manufactured in denmark, by a special branch of braidingteknik (which otherwise was used for wigmaking). There were manufactured various types of “tree’s of life” or bouquets, to which different family members had provided hair. Often family members’ names were stamped on the background of just the flower or branch, which was produced by just their hair, soo the work simultaneously came to form a kind family tree.

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