Archive for January, 2010

January 19, 2010


never in all my life would i ever dare call myself a fashionable person – but i must admit, i really love clothes.  not very good at designing – i rarely pin or measure anything, ever – but styling is loads of fun.  i’m also pretty deft with a needle and thread and have access to printing materials, so i’ve been customizing my wardrobe for quite a few years now.

my favourite theme is CMYK but what with these depression like symptoms, i’ve been leaning towards the black and white combos lately.  and now i’ve been spicing it up with some silver lamé, just to honour the summer selves.

silver lame is love hitcher detail

silver leggings – boutique mystique in soho
hitcher shirt – white cotton appliqué on vintage black tshirt

^can you tell i spent the entire weekend watching back episodes of the mighty boosh?^

also – i recently bought a pair of PANTS.  denim, to be specific.  its been a good 2 years since ive owned a proper pair of pants.  my early 20s are definitely being ruled by the skirt + shirt combo, or to make things really easy, a sassy dress, straight up and down.

but check THIS out


thsirt – zellers, men’s section [owesome pack of 3 vnecks], self silkscreened syringe – image adapted from a piece by reqbat
jeans – winner [mavi, i think]
socks – organic cotton work socks [best for shitty mtl eternal winters]

anyway this post is kind of useless and decadent so here’s a little weekend inspiration from ‘future sailors’


anyone else out there whose favourite colour is S I L V E R ?

also :: is this going too far?
is this going too far?

January 17, 2010

Art’s Birthday

you’re not actually BUYING this, are you? [file it under art groan]

if you look very carefully, you’ll notice that the dude  who staked this claim [robert filiou] shares the exact same birthdate.  this person claimed that art was born on that very day.  so i guess picasso was just being an asshole.

[i think i smell a rat]

be very wary of movements. even of me as i say this.

once again, there’s a whole lot of talking
and not a heck of a lot of doing.

in this deplorable city, ‘art’s birthday’ is just another excuse for yuppy youngsters to be yuppy and young and drunk.

instead, i WORKED [you know, a job], sang decadent lullabies, watched more of the mighty boosh, and wrote a poem.

make art, people!  have a little imagination once in a while.

January 15, 2010

RGB Sequin Sequence

first of all ::  if havent already donated $5 to the red cross regarding the earthquake in haiti, i would recommend you do so immediately.  the survivors need fresh water and medical supplies more than you need that latte.


moving on to even more personal things.

today is tilted.


as if my eyes werent acting funnily [not funly] enough, i took some photos of my helmet and now my vision is slicing slow diagonals.

has the sun only just risen?  its 1034 and i woke up at 9 in almost complete darkness.  what day is this?  have i been wearing the helmet all this week and only just now removed it.


this piece is a continuation of the migraine and swimmerman themes.  inspired by pyramid head and my association of him as the ‘king of pain’ i was encouraged to make my own version of his hedronized self, sans machete, of course. [but maybe next project i’ll crochet / knit weapons of sorts?  actually i just made that up now but it seems like an interesting continuation]

i love swimmerman’s hands – i really do – but they represented something else entirely.  something that had nothing to do with hands.  they were the archetype of self inflicted pain – they were the source tearing at the soapy soft waterlogged skin.  in making the helmet, i wanted it to have an immediate physical reaction.  inside is lined with black [polyester?] and stitched gold thread and silver sequins.  the sequins in such close proximity to the fase and eyes reflect light [from the open top] in all directions making it almost impossible to focus at all.  one isnt supposed to be sure if what theyre seeing is very close or far away.  it is in some ways both, and neither.

the sequins on the outside – a carefully selected and meticulously organized and minimal red green blue act as the grill in which one is supposed to see through.  only there is no vision, and very little capability to hear.  RGB [for me] is an extremely intense migraine trigger.  looking sidelong at data projectors is like a slicing slash of vision, a diagonal glitch of thought processes.  my entire brain stops, its like this nanosecond of kryptonite.  seeing general idea’s AIDS wallpaper at the joliette museum was a glimpse of hell – the entire room starting vibrating and sliding.  just thinking and writing about it pulls on my optic nerve, slowly draining my brain.

in essence, ive attempted at making an apparatus that blocks out the viewer of the wearer’s reaction to the inside.  it is a means of escape but once donned, disables the wearer of any solace or ability to communicate.  if they cannot properly see what is in front of them, how can they explain it?  im not entirely sure if this part is successful in doing so.

but the light still gets in, however alienated we are from it.

regarding the theme of uncertainty – i am uncertain about communication.  my ability to perform it properly and interpret what other people are saying [or in my case, not saying at all].  i cannot force people to communicate with me, however necessary it is to my ability to process a dissolving relationship.  i spent a lot of energy in trying to understand WHY it happened, and instead received the exact same message several times, and proceeded to be ignored completely.  i should have given up long ago, i never should have given up.  toggling between these 2 extremes, i just needed to get away from myself.  why am i always fighting?  why does it always end in surrender?


hiss hiss.

so, wake up.  go to sleep.

January 9, 2010

Musov Shoko.

the whole point of this blog was to have a place to post my own work, but i’m shattering the rules just this once for a shred of bizarre [the whole deification of something ive never seen or heard before]

just the background music is enough to drive me batty.
oh how i wish I had been the one to make this.

[musov shoko]

at first i was repulsed, driven
and then i was driven to hysterics – slaughtered by laughter
i’ll never know why but i am so glad it is

carry on.

January 8, 2010

Shut Up.

i am not nice, sometimes.  i’m sorry.

Photo 424

maybe, it is better coming from me than anyone else?
no no, it is directed more to myself than any _one.  the sentence is supposed to be ‘shut up and make stuff’ but i left it open.
loopy fonts for loopy girls in normal jeans + concert tee uniforms.  the closest semblance to normal humanity i’ll allow.

ever since i’ve returned from ny it is popping up everywhere – articles for school, joseph campbell interviews, favoured bands closest appearance…..

we really are all better off in new york

here’s why

ny from ilhu on Vimeo.

until then

voodoo boy.
strike me out of a slumber.
slice it up into bite sized chunks.
the immanuel kant to my david hume.

put tentacles on things, call it a day.

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January 3, 2010

Ilhu of Bedlam

i’ve started a concept blog called GIRLS OF BEDLAM

it is of the poetic / prosaic / experimental / collaborative kind

reqbat has already joined as author – and so can you!

if you are, or know of, a bedlam girl [or boy! boys are definitely welcome ^_^]  please drop me a line and i’ll add you to the list of writers.

if you don’t know what genre of girls are bedlamic, i implore you – explore
[the goofy, the colourful, the caffeinated, the laughing, the nerdy, introverted, the socially inept, the eager, the able]

January 2, 2010

NYC, My Love

just not ready

i have returned from a place of light and hope, one that i could slip into so so easily and establish a closer self than i think i could here.  at 16, i gave myself 5 years in mtl to figure things out and move on [in 2003 the plan was russia, oh small and slavophilic self], and now it seems i’m 23 and pushing 7 years of social incest.

cortlandt lives

anything that is anything is here. i didn’t even know cortlandt was a real place until a few days ago. behold, the city of dreams, love, and architecture.



and i thought i held the amazing ability to create aggregates out of seemingly unrelated things – here is the entire population of canada pieced together snugly on an island making it happen.

sensor overlord

the cold ripped us but we traversed, champed, stomped it out, semi transient life forms we were. the sun was bright, so bright i think me sensor took a little holiday and gave me lemonade.

industrial brilliance

industrially speaking, most brilliant. no one would be able to survive a zombie infestation here, but dying in nyc vs rotting in mtl is an easy decision.

return is a matter of time

my return to my new home is only a matter of time – a short time, thankfully. i have plans – waterside plans, gin on the bowery plans [a la magnetic fields], brooklyn plans, and museums and viral public art.


once in a blue moon, you’ll find your soulmate.

once in a blue moon

i heart ny

i am starting a new blog GIRLS OF BEDLAM – poems for the goofy girl. maybe there’s a market for it. there are countless poems for the goth girl, the punk girl, the exotic girl, the girl next door. for we are none, yet all of these things.  and always starting new things as a form of frantic ability.

pod pod pod

i resolve to enter that strange tower.

there's where he went