From Hell It Came - Hieronymus Bosch Butt Music

In 2014, a major milestone in music and art history was reached when a music student named Amelia Hamrick attending Oklahoma Christian University took precious time out of her study schedule to transcribe the musical notation written across the butt of one of Hieronymus Bosch's hell-dwellers in his Medieval triptych and master work, "The Garden of Earthly Delights." Hamrick plinked out the tune on piano—written in a book in the painting and finishing across the posterior of the sinner in question in a section of the painting that historians call "The Musicians' Hell"—and posted to her Tumblr, for all the world to celebrate.

Here's a section of the painting known as Musicians' Hell that Bosch enjoyed putting together (do you see the bunny?)

This guy's having an okay time in Club Hell with his jazz hands.

But not so much this guy, his butt exposed, a demon writing notation with its weirdly dotted tongue across this sufferer's cheeks.

Now we can all listen to this 500-year-old butt song from hell, as featured on Anderson Cooper 360. Enjoy!

Hamrick's review is that it's a "really bad" Gregorian chant. But that didn't dissuade Will Ascenzo from posting his chant version on his Tumblr.

Ascenzo's inspiring lyrics:

Butt song from hell
This is the butt song from hell
We sing from our asses while burning in purgatory
The butt song from hell
The butt song from hell
Butts


But hold the phone! We're not done yet because Jim Spalink has posted his version of "Hieronymus Bosch Butt Music" on lute, harp, and hurdy-gurdy. Let's listen:

These butt-music composers are legion, but not to be outdone, guitarist Buckethead has recorded and animated his take on Bosch, "Spokes for the Wheel of Torment." If ever there was a band in hell, this is it.

When your muse is 500 years old, that's old-school.

She Mob LIVES

She Mob is the house band for the art opening of Bride of Monster at Creativity Explored Gallery tomorrow night, October 5th. It's not a typical She Mob eardrum blowout, but a more ambient weird-ass affair. Come see some magnificent monster-inspired artworks while we sit on the floor nearby, making bizarre noises. It's a happening.

Nick Cave - "Until" at MASS MoCA 2016-2017

It's almost time for Nick Cave's Until to be dismantled from football-field-sized Building 5 at Massive MASS MoCA in North Adams, MA. The installation and dismantling of this incredible exhibit are as impressive to me as the actual piece itself.

And here it is:

A gentleman is visible in the lower-right, for scale.

According to The Boston Globe, Cave's installation features 16,000 wind spinners, 24 chandeliers, 10 miles of crystals 13 gilded pigs, thousands of ceramic birds, fruits, and animals, 17 cast-iron lawn jockeys and millions of plastic pony beads.

Closeup of a wind-spinner, featuring a die-cut revolver. Other spinners feature tears and targets.

In the center of the gallery, a former textile and electronics factory, is a vision of heaven made from crystals, chandeliers, ceramic knick-knacks, and seemingly everything that my Grandma Tocha ever hoarded during her long life.

If you're over age 12, you can climb up one of the ladders and see what's up there.

It's scary up there, and secret-garden-like, if the garden was made from the inside of someone's fevered mind. The lawn jockeys, once-demeaning caricatures planted in the front yards of U.S. homes, may have had a dual purpose, signalling safe houses on the underground railroad. On this floating island, they're holding dream-catchers made from twine and badminton rackets.

We live in a world jam-packed with stuff, with abundance beyond human imagining. What lives in the heaven of our minds? Cave thought to ask the question, "Is there racism in heaven?" A question that makes me bow my head in sadness.

And what does this grandma's parlor of a heaven make of our world below?

Ceramic birds survey our whirling human-made violent nature.

A corridor of beaded tarps continue the installation.

From a distance they look like woven rope.

But they're beaded. Here are the millions of pony beads.

So many beads

Beaded.

You can survey the entirety of Until from more than one mezzanine level in MASS MoCA's surreal industrial layout.

And finally, at the end of the gallery, a cascade of Mylar strips, billowing from a rack of oversized industrial-strength fans. Jackson's footage of this shiny, rustling coda is at the end of this one-minute film below:

Nick Cave "Until" - MASS MoCA, September, 2017 from Miss Lisa on Vimeo.


There's a video-installation room made up of staring eyes and a hint of Cave's soundsuit output—the surreal identity-erasing costumes he's known for (see below).







Until ends September 4th. I will never forget it. Cave readjusts our vision of the world where everything is recognizable yet drastically altered. If you ever get a chance, have yourself a Nick Cave experience.

Art is Fun

Working on my legacy, one ink blot and doodle at a time—maybe not a Legacy legacy, but every experiment tends to lead to something else entirely as we plod forth toward our oblivion. During the dog days of summer, which came early in California with a record-breaking heat wave that felt like an oven had been turned on full blast for 19 hours a day, art is refreshing. Like a cool minty glass of iced tea, scribbling is the inner world gone external.

Exploring the concept of doubles with ink-blot prints and charcoal on Bristol board. Throw in a white gel pen and you get: large protruding eyeballs.

Double kitty from acrylic ink and charcoal pencil.

Twins.

Card collages made from found papers, painted journal pages, photos and vintage prints.

My Dad turned 80 last week, so he got this card.

Father's Day card. My Dad really is the number-one dad. I wasn't exaggerating.

I still have to send this one to its recipient. Hopefully she doesn't read this blog. I doubt she does. She's busy and this blog doesn't exactly come up on anyone's daily feed, which is good for under-the-radar experiments and thoughts.

Art inspired by the Spark! Summer online class taught by Lynn Whipple and Carla Sonheim.
My art site: www.lisa-mcelroy.com - still working on this but here it is.

Trump Family Makeovers!

The Royal Family, oooops, I mean the First Family has been gallivanting around the White House (and Florida) for a month now. And you know what that means: makeover time! Something classy, to match the family in question. I thought the timeless billionaire-look-from-the-80s is long overdue for a comeback. As a patriotic American, I offer my style tips, gratis. Remember: we get the leaders we deserve, but also—they get the citizens they deserve, so keep those calls, cards and letters coming to your elected officials. We're all in this together.

Donald Trump is Robot Monster

What if "they" made a remake of the 1953 grade-Z sci-fi contender for worst-movie-ever-made Robot Monster and it starred Donald Trump as Robot Monster? Well, guess what, "they" have and we're all co-stars in this mad endeavor. It's like a reality show, starring us! With Donald Trump as Ro-Man, the monster with his intergalactic bubble-machine death ray.

Don't remember Robot Monster? Let me jog your memory. The IMDB tagline reads: "The monstrous Ro-Man attempts to annihilate the last family alive on Earth, but finds himself falling for their beautiful daughter." Full movie is here (do you dare?).

Trailer:



Here's some shots of Trump in the role he was born to play: monster from outer space. This role was first inhabited by George Barrows who got the role when budget-minded director Phil Tucker found out he owned his own gorilla suit. Tucker slapped a diving helmet on that sucker, and behold! An icon to inanity was born.

See Robot Monster daily on most news networks and across all Internet platforms—unfolding before our very eyes whether we want it to or not. Trump Monster dialogue included.

“When Mexico sends its people, they’re not sending the best. They’re not sending you, they’re sending people that have lots of problems and they’re bringing those problems with us. They’re bringing drugs. They’re bring crime. They’re rapists… And some, I assume, are good people.”

"The point is, you can never be too greedy."

“My fingers are long and beautiful, as, it has been well documented, are various other parts of my body.”

“I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose voters.”

To be like the hu-man—to laugh, feel, want. Why are these things not in the plan? - Robot Monster, 1953

My funniest Facebook comment-war thanks to the Cocks Not Glocks protest

I'll explain: thanks to the "campus carry" gun policy backed and enforced by Texas governor Greg Abbott, it's legal to bring a licensed gun onto any Texas campus and right into the classroom. Yet the University of Texas at Austin's student handbook bans the "distributing" and "brandishing" sex toys.

Noting the absurd discrepancy, One Pulse for America student activists Jessica Jin and Ana Lopez staged a clever Cocks Not Glocks demonstration this week. They handed out hundreds of dildos to their fellow students, who brandished them in their classrooms and throughout the campus with impunity. Just like their open-carry gun-toting brethren.

This of course got mass-media attention and will probably lead to one of two results—either campus officials will take this open-carry battle to the highest federal court because their state insists they allow guns in their classrooms, whether they want them there or not (and if I know most college professors, the answer to that is probably not), or the college will shrug its collective shoulders and say, "Okay, okay, you made your point—you can go ahead and carry dildos around campus too. Enjoy, kids."

Anyway, the .Mic news site made a great little video about the photo-op-rich rally and I commented to the UT activists a positive little message of support, because you can imagine the backlash they're getting from gun-toters who find sex toys "obscene." I got some brush-back for my effort. And I'm amused. So I saved it here, because let's face it, campus carry laws are not the best policy, and also Facebook is so rarely amusing.

See for yourself. My original comment, "Hilarious and insightful. Keep up the good work," is at the top, followed by the following exchange:

Mark Davidson thinks that if he writes "you failed to make a point or a joke," it is so, when the reality is very different. His deep denial aside, he set the pointed joke up with his own argument and it is PERFECTION.

Here's a screen shot of some of the video points from the .Mic video. The original is here.

Now these activists have made their point and it's funny and true. Keep up the good work, ladies.

Songs With the Word "Trousers"

You can never have enough! Songs about trousers, that is.

Andy Stewart - Donald Where's Your Troosers? (with great Scottish Elvis impersonation - listen for it)




Madness - Baggy Trousers - Madness just wanted to have fun and it showed.




Nick Drake - Chime of the City Clock - Yes, trousers get a mention.




Depeche Mode - Never Let Me Down Again - a dark theme that nonetheless uses the word "trousers" very effectively.




Why trousers? Comedian Jay Foreman answers the question here:

GOP Karaoke - Sing-along Campaign Songs for 2016

I've never tried karaoke. I don't drink much and the thought of getting in front of a barroom full of people and singing while sober is completely terrifying to me. But that doesn't mean I'm not inspired by the idea of karaoke, particularly during this election year when anything goes and probably will. GOP karaoke - it makes about as much sense as anything we've seen on the U.S. political stage thus far.

With apologies to the great Pointer Sisters, here is Trump (Vote for Trump) sung to the tune of Jump (For My Love). This version wrote itself, or rather was written in his own words, so as you sing, you ARE Donald Trump. Doesn't that sound immersive? I hope that by the time you reach the bridge, you realize how completely insane you sound and come to your senses, but if not, at least someone might buy you a round at the bar. Or kick you out. We're so divided these days.

Here you go, with an instrumental to sing along to:



Trump (Vote For Trump)

I will
build a great wall
And nobody
builds walls
better than me
I’ll build them
very inexpensively
I will build a great wall
on our southern border
Oh baby!
They’re bringing drugs
They’re bringing crime
They’re rapists and some I assume are good people
And I’ll make Mexico pay
For that wall, wall, wall!

So vote
For Donald Trump
Vote me in!
I’m very rich
Vote!
If Ivanka weren’t my daughter
Perhaps I’d be dating her
Vote, vote for Donald Trump
Vote!
My fingers are long and beautiful
Vote me in!
As are various other parts of my body
Vote!
If Ivanka weren’t my daughter
Perhaps I’d be dating her
Vote, vote for Donald Trump

The point is
I can never be too greedy
My IQ is one of the highest
Don’t feel so stupid or insecure
It’s not your fault
Oh baby!
Lyin’ Ted Cruz just used a picture
Of Melania from a shoot in his ad
Be careful Lyin’ Ted
Or I will spill the beans on your wife!

So vote
For Donald Trump
Vote me in!
I’m very rich!
Vote!
If Ivanka weren’t my daughter
Perhaps I’d be dating her
Vote, vote for Donald Trump!
Vote!
My fingers are long and beautiful
As are various other parts of my body
Vote!
If Ivanka weren’t my daughter
Perhaps I’d be dating her
Vote, vote for Donald Trump

[bridge]:

Look at those hands
Are they small hands?
And Rubio referred to my hands
'If they’re small, something else must be small'
I guarantee you
There’s no problem
I guarantee!

Vote!
Vote me in!
If Ivanka weren’t my daughter
Perhaps I’d be dating her
Vote, vote for Donald Trump!
My fingers are long and beautiful
As are various other parts of my body
Vote me in!
I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody
and I wouldn't lose voters
Vote!

C’mon vote me in!
I need it!
Gimme Gimme!
Vote!
Vote me in!
Vote, vote for Donald Trump!



Let's not forget Ted Cruz. Or better yet, let's. *Groan,* that guy. I guess he should get a karaoke song too, but what a loser. The GOP deserves these terrible campaign songs.

Here's Ted Cruz, sung to the late, great Donna Summer's Bad Girls. I'll always love ya, Donna, and I apologize.



Ted Cruz

Toot toot
Hey, beep beep

Ted Cruz
Talk about a bad choice
Ted Cruz
What a bad, bad choice, yeah

Won’t vote for the violence against women act
Won’t support gay marriage
Even though Supreme Court ruled gay marriage is a right
States rights excuse for bigotry
Somehow worse than Trump

Is this the best
We can do?
These GOP front runners
Are full of poo

Ted Cruz
Talk about the bad choice
Ted Cruz
What a bad, bad choice, yeah

Won’t protect the environment
Doesn’t think climate change is a thing to fight
Yes to guns, no on universal health
Restrict a woman’s right to choose

Is this the best
We can do?
These GOP front runners
Are full of poooooooo

Ted Cruz, Ted Cruz
You’re such a shitty bad choice
beep beep, uh-huh
Ted Cruz, Ted Cruz
You’re such a shitty bad choice

Common Core is on your shit list
But your state textbooks are full of shit
You think you can bomb ISIS into the stone age
But that’s not how bombs work

Toot toot
Hey, beep beep
Hey Ted Cruz! Did you shut Congress down?
Ted Cruz! ‘Cause you didn’t get your way?
You can’t tantrum us back to the stone age
Planned Parenthood is here to stay

Hey Ted Cruz!
You’re Snidely Whiplash without the charm
A cartoon villain with cartoon ways
Hey Ted Cruz!
Can’t even beat Trump!
Good luck with that!

Ted Cruz
Talk about a bad choice
Ted Cruz
What a bad, bad choice

Women dancing seductively in 60s' films while on LSD

There's nothing like a good ol' fashioned 60s-era druggie exploitation flick. They just don't mix up batches of that special LSD that made scantily clad women dance sensuously anymore. You know the kind of LSD I'm talking about—the kind that made the ladies make love to the camera and take off their clothes. I guess the men in these films took the other LSD—the manly variety, because they seemed to keep their clothes on and there was no seductive dancing whatsoever. Just an occasional violent freak out.

In celebration of the new year, let's revisit some classic sensual LSD-laced dance scenes from yesteryear. None were destined to make MGM's "That's Entertainment!" reel, but it's a lost NSFW art-form that could use a little appreciation.

Bibi (Pamela Rodgers) from The Big Cube (1969) is always looking for attention. I can't help but adore her rascally antics. If I was a drag queen, I'd model myself after Bibi—great 60s-wear, big hair, massively exaggerated line delivery, always. Here, she's got a little male competition but nips it in the bud because it's all about her. He must have taken some of that lady acid.





I've never seen Riot on Sunset Strip (1967) in its entirety but perhaps that's unnecessary—this LSD-fueled dance by Andy (Mimsy Farmer) encapsulates its exploitative schlock-factor for nearly eight minutes so well. In a piece-of-crap film like this, it's surprising how much Farmer throws herself into the moment here, during two song cycles before being ravished off-screen by a drug-dealing goon. The second half of her choreography is especially crazed—nearly transcendent. A modern-dance company worth its salt could certainly do justice to her interpretation. Or a drag-queen revue. I would pay to see either.





In an otherwise deadly dull look at LSD culture, here's Peter Fonda in The Trip (1967), about to take a headlong voyage to the bottom of a basement club full of dancing freaks, including a naked body-painted lady doing her hippie groove thang.





I'd be remiss not to include the "The LSD Story" from season 1 of Dragnet. Sure, it's television, but producers managed to sneak in a few moments of sensual-LSD dance during the brief-but-memorable party scene "up in the hills somewhere" in Los Angeles. Sergeant Joe Friday and his partner Bill are here to break up all the fun, as usual (starting around the 4-minute mark), which includes not only the family-friendly sexy dancing, but actual climbing-the-wall dancing. The party boys get more active roles, playing (and rewinding) tunes, eating paint and being mouthy. The girls merely look perplexed and pouty, yelling, "Merry Christmas!" during the drug bust like a bunch of acid-tripping dum-dums. It's an LSD-party glass ceiling is what it is.





Now it's your turn! Make up your own sensual LSD dance. Here's the Strawberry Alarm Clock in Psych-Out (1968) to get you started (young Jack Nicholson sitting in on poseur guitar). Remember to seduce the imaginary camera (male gaze). Clothing removal is optional but in keeping with the hippie ethos. Use all-organic ingredients for your body paint—skin is our largest organ, after all.

Spotlight on: Trump Supporters

What's scarier than Donald Trump and his Hate-mongering Blowhard platform? His followers, of course. Let's hone in on Trump supporters via the magic of screen-shots. I don't usually freeze people in mid-support of a narcissistic lunatic, but I think in this case, it's warranted. What kind of person rallies to support Donald Trump? Let's find out.

Trump just made a doozy of a stump speech. Two hours of rambling nonsense, which I call "The Belt-buckle Rebuttal," for his mock reenactment of fellow candidate Ben Carson's telling of a would-be stabbing of a friend, or a bully, or someone—thwarted by a belt buckle (if you don't know what this refers to, count yourself lucky).

As you can see, the crowd ATE IT UP.

And watta crowd! Who's with Trump? These people:

Guy on the left is studying Trump's Ben Carson stabbing reenactment like it's an episode of CSI.

My son asked me who would want Trump for President. Without thinking, I blurted out, "The mentally ill!" I don't have data to back this up—it's just a guess. My theory is that a sizable amount of narrow-minded paranoiacs can't get enough of Trump. Also, the very stupid. And mixed within this group—bigots. Trump's early surge in the polls was the result of his early-campaign demonization of Mexican immigrants.

But if he's any kind of business man, he very well knows that much of our local economy would wither, collapse and die without cheap labor from Mexico. He's scapegoating and using hate-speech as propaganda to get the bigot votes. He's not going to build a "great wall" with a "very big, very beautiful door," as he's promised. On this, as with so many topics, he's full of shit. But does he truly hate Mexican immigrants? From what I know, coming from a Mexican-American family, I'd say yes. And so do his fans.

Anyone need a cool Trump-supporter avatar?