I am an odalisque. But I have sequestered myself. In an obelisk. I converse with birds. Chirp chatter caw caw crackle screech burn it can get pretty noisy up here.
THIS is my SCRAPBOOK about my life.
My scrapbook begins with this post (note the subtlety of my links). Recent posts, or a random post———– —————>
My favorite topics? LOVE, FASHION, and the OCEAN. I, like all odalisques, have a fantastic coat. My favorite movies are the lost films of Theda Bara. I make Figures (see category –>) to illustrate complex concepts and excavate my own texts. I made a movie, too! Watch HOW I GOT INTO THE OBELISK here. It is rated X because in it, I do not wear a head.
I rekindled my friendship with recently captured odalisque, Henriette after her picture appeared in the world’s newspapers. Abducted from her solitary life in the desert, she’s currently imprisoned in a Venezualan basement because she is believed to be a member of the bourgeoisie. Our correspondence, though erratic, is an important part of my scrapbook. She reminds me of my past, and of the political struggle of the odalisque. *UPDATE!! HENRIETTE LIBRE!!*
My obelisk is made of obsidian which has no chinks for the intrepid to grip. It is 72 feet high and sits in a tidal pool (my movie explains how I got into it). From my window I either see 1) the ocean; 2) the far hills; or 3) a tree and both of the above. The view, like weather, changes. There is a map below.
So far, I have not left the obelisk. A sand-path to the shore is sifted out of the dunes and one day I will walk there.
I, The Odalisque, am a product of decadence. My friends are crow, owl, black swan, hawk, phoenix & the starlings. They visit often, the phoenix in goblets of spirits, or flaming billet doux.
Thank you for looking. Thank you.
if you’re interested in–
sexual personae camille paglia decadence feminism male gaze deconstruction deconstructing
poetry yeats rilke tanka haiku japanese female poets yosano akiko anne carson susan howe
surrealism feminist art collage
dream journey jung james hillman archetypes images personal myths eros impermanence
–you might like my scrapbo