A Film, A Mani and An Art

The Art
Really, all of these things deserve a separate post...but I didn't get to any of them soon enough.
This week I was invited to a party at a work friend's house. Beer and barbecue would be provided. The cost of entry: create a piece of art. Several of my coworkers (all artists of some sort) also had to make pieces...the pressure was on. How would my work compare to theirs?
With two working weekday's notice and a large blank canvas, I tried to make something that didn't make me cringe.
I have to admit here that I have never finished a painting in my life. I've never been too comfortable with the medium, and even when I've got an idea or style that I like going, I never feel that a piece is complete. In this case, I didn't have much time to deliberate. I ended up
using two found photos that I got here to make two stencils. Then I painted the background (so much white space to fill!) and I ended up being pretty pleased with the result.
All of the other paintings were great despite being all very different. The only similarity was that several of us used a lot of red.
I think the party was a great idea, and the host came away with some pretty nice art.




The Manicure
The day of the party I went with a friend to pick up dye at a specialty store near OCAD. As we were leaving, I noticed that the shop next door was a place called "Everest Nail Salon". Without thinking, I asked my friend if she wanted to get a manicure. I've never had one before, and it seems to be a semi-regular occurrence with some of my female friends. Almost everyone I know either does their own nails or has had a manicure at some point in their life. It was...interesting.
My manicurist barely spoke English, but I think that even if she did there would be little small talk between us. This wasn't like a hair salon. No polite banter. She grabbed my fingers and plunked them into a warm bath, followed by a filing and a frighteningly precise cuticle trimming.
Her tools were sharp, but she was like a machine, and I wasn't afraid. Still, I found it easier not to watch this part.
The massage was the strangest bit. The whole manicure made me feel weird. It made me feel spoiled and bourgeois, and I was embarrassed to have that much attention paid to any part of me. She rubbed my hands with cream and then deftly grabbed my fingers with her fingers, lacing them together like we were lovers and pulling on my hands and wrists to moisturize and massage. As I sat, I overheard regular customers coming in and leaving, getting last week's finger or toe job touched up, exchanging minor pleasantries with their usual technician. I think my curiosity has been satisfied.

The Film
Onward! To the Bloor Cinema!
I spent most of today listening to the radio, drinking tea and playing Tetris. I was getting restless and decided to go see 'The City of Lost Children'. It stars everybody's favourite Tom Waits doppelganger Ron Perlman. It was beautiful, creepy, ridiculous, and I'm so glad I saw it. It was full of striking images and clever ideas. There were a couple great scenes where the whole city acted like a Rube Goldberg machine, advancing the heroes' cause when they were helpless. I wonder how far back that type of God-Perspective, quick sequence chain of events goes in films...
There were some scenes between Perlman and the young female lead that skirted the edge of creepiness in the gentlest way. There was also an extended sequence of toddlers crying and screaming in cage-like cribs that made me wonder about child actors. When you grow up, do you say "Thanks, Mom and Dad, for putting me in a film that became such a cult classic!" or do you wonder what possessed them to let a bald, bug-eyed man dressed as Santa yell and sing in their faces for hours on end. Never mind.
City of Lost Children is one of those films that I've heard about forever and never gotten a chance to see.
It reminded me of "Labyrinth" without the singing or David Bowie in spandex.