I’ve been listening to Bobby Beausoleil‘s soudtrack to Lucifer Rising over and over lately. It made me want to watch the movie again too, and as I was doing researches, I found out Kenneth Anger (who directed the movie) had a pretty amazing tattoo. I thought I’d share…

Here is also a video interview of him, in which he shows it off and talks about satanism (in french).

Latest eBay obsession, 70s biker magazines like In The Wind, Iron Horse and Easyriders. Hell’s Angels, hair and Harleys. Not sold on the unicorns and butterflies for girls, skulls and eagles for the boys rules mind…

and there is nothing wrong with it…
Here is the rest of the (beautiful) images Jeff sent me. With a special thought for those in snowstorms and/or generally below a Tshirt temperature.


click image to enlarge
visit: jeffreykilmer.com

I have never actually met Jeffrey Kilmer. Still he is important to me and Sang Bleu as he was among the very first people to ever give me a chance with the project. I published a series of his pictures of young tattooed american boys and since then have been regularly receiving updates of this ever-growing series. Thank you Jeffrey.

Here are some of them.

Like someone I know usually says “If there is no exhibition catalogue, the exhibition has never occured”. This exhibition definitely occured (sorry, no longer on…) and it’s beautiful catalogue is out, and features 6 illustrations by Yours Truely! (also see Yours Truely’s website)

Two male artists, Kalup Linzy and Shaun Leonardo, lip sync to the Hunter and Jenkins tune, which was banned from the radio in the 1930s.

Di Sciullo presents the most humane treatment of the night’s dark dreams. His pairing of morphing abstractions with a litany of existential worries (“I’m scared of being irredeemably bourgeois”), proffered in a matter-of-fact voice-over, is very French. Caillou’s tale of a bloodthirsty samurai spirit borrows stylistically from Japanese art, and Mattotti’s spooky pastoral preys on the unnatural quietude of rural life. The best offerings bookend the series. Blutch’s vicious metaphor of class politics, which opens the anthology, is told in brief episodes throughout the film. The ominous story follows an eighteenth-century marquis, voiced only with a grating cackle, who sets his ferocious hounds on an impoverished boy, a worker, and a woman. The artist’s scratched, smudged, quivering lines serve his narrative well, casting a chilly misery over a disturbing tale. Blutch’s murky tonal gradations are the inverse of McGuire’s impermeable blackness, which serves as the story’s principle character. In the film’s closing sequence (a tense but farcical adventure), a man navigates his way through a pitch-black house. As the dense darkness engulfs him, only his candle’s light calls forth a minute circle of the house’s interior, just enough for the remainder to be imagined.

Fear(s) of the Dark, 2008, still from a film in digital HD, 80 minutes. Illustration by Charles Burns.

Traditional horror fans may find few hair-raising moments in Fear(s) of the Dark, and even comics enthusiasts may consider it a mixed bag. But if mundanity makes your skin crawl, don’t watch this before bedtime.
Fear(s) of the Dark opens in New York on October 22.