Pleasure Notes

When I think of paintings on suede or velvet, images of Vegas and Elvis usually come to mind. Not that I spend much time thinking about paintings on suede and velvet. But I stumbled across an artist recently who made me pause and reevaluate my assumptions about what suede art, in particular, can be.

"Red Tulips" by Kate Moriarty

Kate Moriarty is an L.A.-based artist who captures misty dreamscapes with pastels and suede. Strange, but true. And amazingly beautiful.

"London Bridges" by Kate Moriarty

Don’t you just love when an artist surprises you into seeing something in a completely different light?

"Fade Away" by Kate Moriarty

I’ll never look at suede the same way again. Velvet, on the other hand, may indeed still remain associated with awful renditions of The King, and ’80s prom dresses. But, dare I say it, velvet gets the better song. I am far more likely to dance manically through my house to Black Velvet than to Blue Suede Shoes any day.

Now, do you have a preference for suede or velvet?

I am not a fan of pain, of any kind.  However, I find myself oddly in agreement with the man many credit as the grandfather of that particular fetish – Leopold Von Sacher-Masoch.  He was one of those men-of-letters one could find wandering Europe two centuries ago, and he was peculiarly obsessed with fur… fur on women… women who he would then beg to beat the crap out of him.  Whatever floats your boat.

What I appreciate about the man, however, is his sentiment that “pleasure alone makes existence worthwhile.”  Can you imagine how dreadfully grey life would look if we humans couldn’t experience pleasure?  And how great is it that pleasure is such a personal pursuit?  Good ole Leopold found his in the slap of a leather whip.  I find mine in more prosaic ways.  Like checking out the Vanity Fair exhibit at LACMA.

I’ve always loved evocative black-and-white photography.  The pictures highlighted in this exhibit do not disappoint.  As is to be expected, this is a collection of celebrity portraits, old and new.  Some artists are better than others at capturing their subjects’ souls.  I particularly like Mario Testino’s work.  Perhaps some of the sitters are soulless, and therefore the photographers should not be blamed?

What I found most interesting was how many of the by-gone celebrities are truly gone – that is, they are no longer in the public conscience.  Something for all the regulars on TMZ to remember – every star fades, and some actually die without a trace.

The exhibit runs through March 1, 2009.  There are a couple of other photography collections on display and worth checking out in various wings of the complex – LACMA recently got a huge chunk of money earmarked for the photography department and they are most definitely putting it to use – so you could probably spend a good few hours wandering about.  If you do, however, I recommend you wear something other than the 3-1/2 inch heels I chose. Yes, my legs looked fabulous, but my feet hurt like hell after I stood around staring at famous people’s mugs all afternoon.  And, as I may have mentioned, I am not a fan of pain.

Welcome to my little adventure!  I am a writer, based in Los Angeles.  Like many who have come to Hollywood, I am on a quest.  I make no promises, however, about the sanctity of this venture.  I am in pursuit of pleasure, you see…

I present this blog as a platform from which I will be ruminating about anything and everything that stirs my senses or stokes my emotions.  I will freely discuss the latest LA art event one day and the newest sex toy the next, expound upon politics and culture, and share my latest nature-based and man-made discoveries.  I am not an expert, but I am most definitely opinionated.

If you are not old enough to vote or fight in a war, you probably shouldn’t be reading this.  It is not my intention to embarrass, offend, or alienate anyone, but I most likely will do all the above.  C’est la vie.

I sincerely hope that you continue with me along my journey to discover all that makes me go mmmmm…