Newsletter #19 / December 7th
Penelope Comino + Lauren King x FORA / squared
This week’s newsletter is a short and sweet collation by the artists responsible for the next FORA window space — Penelope Comino + Lauren King.
Come down to 75 Vulture St at
6pm / Thursday, December 10th
to have a drink at The End with the artists, and view the opening of their festive window installation.
The facebook event can be found here
and the artists can be found here—
Pip’s socials // @pc____dezine
Lauren’s socials // @lauren.m.king
We do hope to see you there xx
Lauren’s Playlist — B E A C H / B O P S
— Paradise / Sade
— Betcha Don’t Know / Najee
— I Can’t Wait / Nu Shooz
— Mutual Attraction - Full-Length Album Version / Change
— Doin’ It - Joey Negro Soulful Reprise / Gwen McCrae
— The Pleasure Principle / Janet Jackson
— You’re My Last Chance / 52nd Street
— Outstanding - Original 12” Mix / The Gap Band
— Jump To It / Aretha Franklin
— Stop That / Evelyn “Champagne” King
Pip’s Favourite Instagram Accounts
— @madebyericastudio / Erica Gleason
— @gustafwestman / Gustaf Westman
— @thesocial food / The Social Food
— @fabiguai / Fabi
+ Pip’s favourite recipe of the moment:
Max Rocha’s Roasted Pear, Mascarpone & Walnuts
FINALLY:
Games Corner / by Alex Economidis
More finally, this is for Lewis Warsh, and Christmas
New Travelogue (2015)
I stumbled out of the bushes
to see a deer drink from a pool.
I climbed into the hills above
Berkeley, one step at a time.
I went to Prince Edward Island
where Anne of Green Gables’ face
is on the license plate. A hawk
or a condor flew over our house.
I bought a carton of smokes
at the duty free shop in Anchorage.
Took a seconal in Frankfurt
and woke up in New York.
I bothered my friends with my troubles;
I was never (not) alone. I postponed
pleasure until it was almost gone.
I stared out over the North Sea,
waiting for rain. I wandered
through the red light district in Amsterdam
in the middle of night. I rode on
the back of a motorcycle over a mountain
on Christmas Eve.
I floated on my back in the ocean
at Maui. Stared out the window of
my hotel room over the rooftops of
Florence. Took LSD in Paris and sat
on a bench in the Luxembourg Gardens.
Rented a hotel room in Liverpool
but couldn’t sleep.
I missed my flight from Madrid to Lisbon.
Found an apartment on the Panhandle
and drank tea in Golden Gate Park.
I was caught stealing at Safeway—I could never
return. A Chinese acupuncturist came to
my house when I threw out my back
and couldn’t move. I woke up in an apartment
on 5th Street and listened to the roosters
crow on someone’s roof. I visited her
in her house overlooking the ocean and she
let me in. I put out my hand to touch you,
but the bed was empty.
I wheeled a stroller down an icy New
England street. Waited under a canopy
in the rain, but she never came. I stood
in front of a classroom with paint stains
on my shoes. Called the suicide hotline,
but no one answered.
I dropped everything I was doing
and ran into the street. Drove
a car with faulty transmission until
a fire started under the hood. I ate
Indian food on a balcony in Capetown.
I sang karaoke in a bar in Tibet.
Something I meant to say comes back
to haunt me in my sleep. I turn
the key in the lock and call your
name. Her face appears, out of nowhere,
making a shadow on the page. There’s
only one stone and it weighs a ton.
Lewis Warsh, by Gerard Malanga (ca.1971)
What FORA wants
The FORA newsletter seeks to bring forward the intertextuality that we reside in, and the inextricable ways in which art and life are linked. That is an obvious point, but one that must be constantly remarked upon, as it is one we are constantly surprised by. To be reminded of these circles is to be drawn back into the fold, equipped with the tools of thinking critically and acting compassionately.
pps/FORA is developed on the land of the Jagera and Turrbal peoples