Marat / Sade

Photographer Max Waldman (1919 - 1981) forsook commercial work in the mid-1960's, and began shooting 'only what he wanted'. His eye for capturing stage and dance performers was phenomenal, and his passions leaned toward the avant-garde. These photos capture the cast members from The Royal Shakespeare Company's 1966 production of Marat/Sade, in their 'play-within-a-play' roles as insane asylum inmates.

Russian Criminal Tattoos

Chocolate

Fragile, seems I opened up to quick and all my dreams were woken up
I slowly lost my fight
with every single man a river cried

I had no sensation, completely numb I felt no satisfaction
I thought no one could ever get me high again
I swear I was not looking

I've waited so long,
I thought the real thing was a fake,
I thought it was a tool to break me down
you prove me wrong again

If love were liquid it would drown me
in a placeless place refine me,
in a heart shape come around me
and then melt me slowly down
if love were human it would know me
in a lost space come and show me,
hold me and control me and then melt me slowly down,
like chocolate

Tastes so good
my hearts been mended, who'd have thought it would?
an empty bed and still I won the catch,
a man who I love and who loves me back

I've waited so long
for love to heal me, so I'd feel it, thought it wasn't real
and then you came
you prove me wrong again

If love were liquid it would drown me
in a placeless place refine me,
in a heart shape come around me and then melt me slowly down
if love were human it would know me
in a lost space come and show me,
hold me and control me and then melt me slowly down,
like chocolate

Come here, zoom in, catch the smile
there's no doubt it's for you and I'm addicted tonight

Just one look boy to mellow it out
just one heart here to save me now
your candy kisses are sweet I know
hold me tight baby, don't let go
-Kylie Minogue Chocolate

Georges Braque

More Meyerhold

Vsevolod Meyerhold

33 Fainting Spells was a work that the experimental Russian stage director Vsevolod Meyerhold devised in 1935 that was based on short plays by Chekhov in which there were 33 references to fainting.

I just recently realized that the book I am currently reading -- Thirty Three Swoons -- is infact a reference to this real play, and a story based on the real Vsevolod Meyerhold.

What is perhaps even more eerie is how the original title fits in with my life of late.

The Long Lost Thing

It is so exhausting
Searching for a lost thing
Even when it's lost in trash
It's hard to remember what's past is past

What's past is past for a reason
Especially when someone favoured treason
Took the side against which he should have protected
And for a bad thing a good thing neglected

But time brings doubt into your mind
The spool of solitude starts to unwind
And if you gaze along that line of string
You'll find you're looking at that long lost thing

-senka kovacevic

Douglas Walker

Born in Brockville, Ontario, Douglas Walker graduated with an Honors Diploma from the Ontario College of Art in 1981. He presently lives and works in Toronto. During the 1980's Walker received early acclaim for his work in photo-drawing, photography, and sculpture. In the 1990's Douglas turned to painting and recently reduced his palette to the Blue and White for which he is now known for.

Desiree Dolron Encore

Exhaltation (1991 -1999)

David Burdeny

David Burdeny has won several gold awards in international art photography competitions, the most recent being selected as International Photographer of the Year amongst 23,000 submissions, to be revealed at the Lucie Awards Ceremony in New York City, October 2008.

Desiree Dolron

These are photographs -- not paintings.

Evelyn Lau

Ragtime Opening at Ford Theatre,
May 10, 1998

A year later, I see you
in the theatre lobby at intermission,
your aged face two-faced in the segmented mirror
above the twin staircases. I feel enough
to turn away. Too late.
You've fixed me in your gaze,
and the belling in my chest,
the emptied lungs, the seized throat,
might not be hammering hatred
but the breathlessness of first love.

Then, as if in a movie version
of the moment when lust is sparked,
the crowd dissolves
and we are standing in the stripped room
lovers inhabit, our bodies burning
in a single flare of fury,
and I see: even hatred binds
and union is unbroken.

How have we arrived here,
your face as unknowable to me
as a thief's surprised at the foot of the bed
after he steals in from the window
and I wake from a nightmare
to find a stranger in the room?

-Evelyn Lau

Cormac McCarthy on Oprah