20 August 2006























"Warning" sign posted on gate of defunct/abandoned "installation" in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

This article has been viewed 910 times in the last 29 months

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elaine: 8th Sep 2005 - 15:19 GMT
a new slant on installation art - ... with dogs outfits by prada, perhaps

jack: 8th Sep 2005 - 23:52 GMT
elaine, its funny that you should mention prada. i met the women who runs the fashon company, prada.

2 comments:

  1. Anonymous11:30 am

    Hot band!

    http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3819/2324/1600/irland%20143.jpg

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  2. Anonymous3:19 pm

    [WHITE SCREEN - narrator's voice, male, as if reading a fairy tale to a group of small children]

    NARRATOR
    Once I saw a man with a tattoo
    of a steaming hotdog on his
    arm! Boy, he sure must love to
    eat hotdogs! Do you like to eat
    hotdogs?

    [FADE IN - INT. DAY - MED. CLOSE - a WOMAN sits by a large window, an old-fashioned (think 70s) green rotary telephone hugged to her chest. She sits with her legs semi-crossed, the lower half of her linen summer dress pulled into a tight triangle. Her face shows evidence of crying, red eyes, puffy cheeks. ENTER MAN. WOMAN does not look over. MAN checks himself in the doorway, notes emotional state of WOMAN, and moves silently to the stereo. MAN fiddles with knobs, finally pressing play. A CD of early Bob Dylan comes on - the volume perhaps too loud for the setting, MAN fumbles again and manages to turn the sound down to an acceptable level. MAN moves over to window, continues to stand while looking through it, almost pointedly not at WOMAN.]

    MAN
    He call yet?

    WOMAN
    [flat voice] No.

    MAN
    He say he'd call?

    WOMAN
    No.

    MAN
    Why not try calling him?

    WOMAN
    ...

    MAN
    Do you have his number?

    WOMAN
    [beat] No.

    MAN
    [trying to break the melancholic
    spell by sounding cheery - the
    audience now realizes he has the
    same voice as NARRATOR]
    How 'bout a nice hotdog then?

    WOMAN
    [beat] No.

    MAN
    Suit yourself. I'll be out back.

    [EXIT MAN. EXT. CLOSE on WOMAN. She slowly mouthes the words "hotdog", over and over, continuing to stare blindly out the window. WHITEOUT. CREDITS.]

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