Each day, sugarhigh send me the latest on the amazing Berlin arts scene. Yesterday, they were at their very best. Sit back and enjoy.
An ever-so-slightly modified excerpt from Plato’s Symposium:
The original nature of socks was not like the present. Once socks were a distinct kind, constituted by the union of the right sock and the left sock—the powerful pair. Great was the pairs’ might and strength, and they planned an attack on the gods. Doubt reigned in the celestial councils. At last, after much reflection, Zeus thought of a way. “Socks shall continue to exist, but I will cut them in two,” he declared. After the division, each single sock was sentenced to a life spent searching for its other half. The nature of socks then was originally one and they were a whole, and the desire and pursuit of the whole is called love.
Socks have a maddening habit of separating themselves from their predestined other half. But they need not be doomed to lives of heartbreak and loneliness, nor do we need to be left with a drawer full of unusable singles. Artist Tabea Mathern’s Lost Sock Project is an open call for submissions of abject, single socks, which will be woven into a large-scale work of textile art.
Together, forever. —[sh]
Absolutely loving the creativity! I wish some of it would rub off…
So – be kind to all those lonely socks and send them to the Lost Sock Project!
I love Liberty’s in London. And I love my friend Kyoko’s photography. What could be better than the two coming together?! Enjoy!
See more of Kyoko’s work here!
This is today’s post from one of my very favourite blogs:
Spider Alley, the place only the bravest children dare enter.
Brave the sticky webs and wrapped bundles of mummified bugs, spun and wrapped, ready to stick in your hair.
Run, run, run!
(To look at the real thing, click here: Spider Alley)
One of my earliest childhood memories is of being stuck in the little play area in our garden, which had a fence around it to stop us running off. However, there was a little gap between the fence post and the wall that I was able to squeeze through. On this particular day, though, there was a big fat spider sitting just where I needed to get through. Why I wanted to get out, I have no idea. Maybe I was just bored. What I do remember is the battle going on inside me. I was scared of the spider. Yet I didn’t want to stay in there any longer. Should I be brave? Could I somehow avoid the spider? Should I try calling my Mum?
No idea what I did in the end. Maybe the spider just left. Or maybe my Mum came and I no longer needed to squeeze through the gap to get out. Either way, I lived to tell the tale. Still don’t much like spiders, though!
Basque table linen, British Portmeirion pottery and artwork made in Israel by a lovely Dutch friend.
All coming together on my dining table.