Author Archives: Alisha Trimble
combien du temp
The Journal Gallery exhibits “Infinity Mirror,” a solo exhibition by Michael Stipe, organized by Clarissa Dalrymple.
“Infinity Mirror” stems from the contents of Stipe’s recent publication, Volume One, and further expands on his use of photo-based practices to explore the 1970’s as a formative decade through its cultural impact on his coming of age, and subsequently, the manner in which its influence informed the creative work he went on to create, both privately and as a public figure.
The exhibition presents a selection of photographic material, ranging from images made by Stipe, to historical ephemera he continues to collect and alter, or use as source material that informs his own use of the camera. These found and made materials remain in an ongoing and ever-shifting relationship within Stipe’s practice, blurring understandings of time and authorship.
In the gallery, four distinct bodies of work are positioned as facets of the piece Infinity Mirror, 2018. Situated in the center of the space, this work functions as a lexicon of sorts. It is comprised of ten identical brass shelving units by the iconic 1970s designer Milo Baughman, which Stipe has aligned edge to edge, creating an object of unusual volume and density, appearing as a multiplying projection of itself. The sculpture displays an eclectic collection of both personal and historical ephemera, including keepsakes and materials that Stipe encountered firsthand as a teenager.
mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
I know this sounds serious, but it’s more like a comedy routine. When reading this, imagine a laugh track after every line, that’s what the reading by Ginsberg sounds like.
America
America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.
America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.
I can’t stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.
I don’t feel good don’t bother me.
I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I’m sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
I’m trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I’m doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven’t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid I’m not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I’m perfectly right.
I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven’t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.
I’m addressing you.
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
I’m obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It’s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.
I’d better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that jetplanes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfive-thousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I’m a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they’re all different sexes.
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor the Silk-strikers’ Ewig-Weibliche made me cry I once saw the Yiddish orator Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.
America you don’t really want to go to war.
America its them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians. And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia’s power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader’s Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.
That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.
America is this correct?
I’d better get right down to the job.
It’s true I don’t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I’m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.
Berkeley, January 17, 1956
haiku
In Case You Were Wondering
By Alisha Trimble
I still remember
That time you let me down, and
I don’t forgive you.
Hot Topic
“so many rules and so much opinion / so much bullshit but we won’t give in” — Julie Ruin
Starting tomorrow, MoMA PS1 presents Yayoi Kusama’s (Japan, b. 1929) site-specific installation of Narcissus Garden (1966–present) as the third iteration of Rockaway!, a free public art festival presented with Rockaway Artists Alliance, Jamaica Bay-Rockaway Parks Conservancy, National Park Service, and Bloomberg Philanthropies. Narcissus Garden will be on view from July 1 through September 3, 2018 at the Gateway National Recreation Area at Fort Tilden.
Comprised of 1,500 mirrored stainless steel spheres, Narcissus Garden will be on view in a former train garage from the time when Fort Tilden was an active U.S. military base. The mirrored metal surfaces will reflect the industrial surroundings of the now-abandoned building, drawing attention to Fort Tilden’s history as well as the devastating damage inflicted on many buildings in the area by Hurricane Sandy in 2012.
Rockaway! 2018 is presented by MoMA PS1 with Rockaway Artists Alliance, Jamaica Bay-Rockaway Parks Conservancy, National Park Service, and Bloomberg Philanthropies.
Monte Carlo Snapshots
The highlight so far was connecting with people who have true passion for their craft. The Chambre Monegasque de La Mode works very hard to make their fashion week especially welcoming.
The Bellevue from the terrace of the Cafe de Paris can’t be beat- and despite language barriers, the conversations were lively as they were insightful.
Mario Boselli, above, spoke representing the Camera Nazionale della Moda Italiana. He spoke of Milan’s continued success within the Beautiful and Well Made ready to wear garment sector, he then advised me personally to go to Shanghai. It’s such an inspiration to see a well-educated and articulate woman speak of her national history and its influence on post-modern fashion: Olga Egorova representing the Caspian region poised above, center. Myself: not as poised but petite and energized nonetheless. Next photo, the creator of Caspian Fashion Week, left, and designer Nezha on the right are elegant and charming.
we’re all going to hell
what if jesus were just a guy visiting the met museum, checked his cross at the coat check
what would he make of all this?
would he call out:
not you proud Anna Wintour, not sweet misunderstood Donatella Versace, not the museum guests, not cherished Madonna, nor desired Rihanna, nor the docents, nor poor forsaken Lee McQueen himself … understand what Power is … understand what Glory is … understand at all. 
Support Agriculture for Earth Day
In Time for Earth Day:
Since my design fellowship via The NEST Organization at 1818 Farms, I’ve created a range of jewelry that shows the unique, springy & sculptural quality of the wool obtained with loving care in a small farm in Mooresville, Alabama.
Wear the jewelry items crafted from the scarce wool of 1818 Farms’ famous babydoll sheep, brought back from the endangered list:
In pink/gold/ivory
Chain bracelet in crochet wool with silk covered button: available with pink silk thread or natural ivory & gold colorway. $75 plus tax & shipping.
Wool Chain Bracelet, $55 plus tax & shipping
Tassel charm bracelet, $135 + tax & shipping
Fringe Earrings, $88 +tax & shipping
Last chance for custom gown fittings:
If you always wanted a custom cocktail dress or gown made just for you, this week is your last chance to get one by me! Secure your consultation with a $200 deposit now. The fee, applied towards your order, secures your meeting with the designer to take measurements and provide a quick sketch of your order. Dresses range from $800 – $2400 and all orders will be completed by May 31.
The deadline to put your order in and pay in full is April 24, after which I will no longer be available to design custom gowns for my New York Clientele.
XO A
Do wishes come true?
Everything I need for my next trip around the sun is here.
Well, you could never accuse me of having poor taste …
personal fable 