Transmutation was the word jazz guitar elements michael berard pdf came to mind the first time I saw milliner Sahar Freemantle’s Magpie inspired Ugly Lovely collection. A narrative of claws, animal horns, feathers, shredded snake skin, fossilized beetles, dried butterflies, bird skulls, etc, gave me the impression that if I wore one of her ingenious creations, I could morph into this intelligent bird.

The Magpie is the only non-mammal species to have the ability of self recognition in a mirror test. Raised on a farm it was commonplace for Sahar to see animal carcasses, skulls, rotting fruit and vegetables and it is in this milieu of birth, death and decay that she discovered beauty in the extraordinary. While studying at Edinburgh College of Art she found passion in high drama, Schiaparelli hats, insect art and taxidermy receiving her degree in Costume Design and specialising in Millinery. Ugly Lovely is a description to define something that might repel at first but then become beautiful.

Her headpieces from this collection are an ode to unconventional beauty. They aim to challenge the notion of beauty by drawing ones own and contrasting it with the dark and the strange. There is a limit to what you can know about your students. Even when they are ex-students and ex-teachers. I have known him as a teacher knows a beloved student.

I have taught him 2 years in Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design. I could see him, and suspected not anyone could. I have met again a few months ago, we sat in a coffee shop, he doesn’t like coffee shops. He spoke about dead birds, I remembered birds interested him back then as well, in Bezalel. His freezer is filled with dead birds, he said.

See, those are birds that people don’t usually put inside their freezer, long winged, magnificent, fragile. Barn owls, flamingo, who could believe it? Even people who eat everything don’t freeze that kind of birds. I was immediately sorry I hadn’t thought of it myself, that I hadn’t stolen him from life, into my story. Anyway, a young man with brown eyes, keeping dead birds in his freezer and later taking them out of their coverage in a club named Nightingale Cinema, no less. It has to be a story.

The necrophilic layer, the emotions layer, the surprise, the threat, the spectacular sight of a boy holding a bird, struck with a spotlight. It’s a story’s geology, something needs to be done, I thought in despair. I would be wrong, for they are all migrating birds passing through Israel, dying here with all their glory. Creates some kind of life and death erotica, horrible and beautiful.

Erotica of exploitation, defiance and embarrassment, and sadness. An almost Christian image, I thought, almost poetic, Jesus in the hands of Mariah. That sentence he said, reminded me of Jacob Biton’s poetry who wrote about himself and his brother Dogan facing their grandma’s death, the big mother. Victorian ornithologists and botanists would have heartily commended Susan Hipgrave’s remarkable series of hand-painted plates. Susan’s ability to focus is well matched by her possession of a steady hand. Despite the striking maturity of her work, Susan has been working in ceramic art for less than a decade.

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