Masculin féminin (1966), dir. Jean-Luc Godard
In two of Aurel Schmidt’s more recent series, the artist’s highly rendered drawings depict leafy vagina lettuce and ginger toes, among other inventive combinations of body parts and edibles.
Bryan Nash Gill, Woodcuts
"Sushi" an addition to my sketchbook i finished last night.
Mid-drought, more sun.
When did the tumbler
of water, bedside, fill
with dust? When did you
learn you were a riverbed
no river would touch?
Imagine a room,
a sudden glow. Here is my hand, my heart,
my throat, my wrist. Here are the illuminated
cities at the center of me, and here is the center
of me, which is a lake, which is a well that we
can drink from, but I can’t go through with it.
I just don’t want to die anymore.
It was simple to meet you, simple to take your eyes
into mine, saying: these are eyes I have known
from the first… It was simple to touch you
against the hacked background, the grain of what we
had been, the choices, years… It was even simple
to take each other’s lives in our hands, as bodies.
What is not simple: to wake from drowning
from where the ocean beat inside us like an afterbirth
into this common, acute particularity
these two selves who walked half a lifetime untouching—
to wake to something deceptively simple: a glass
sweated with dew, a ring of the telephone, a scream
of someone beaten up far down the street
causing each of us to listen to her own inward scream
knowing the mind of the mugger and the mugged
as any woman must who stands to survive this city,
this century, this life…
I go where I love and where I am loved,
into the snow;
I go to the things I love
with no thought of duty or pity