Showing posts with label Kim Novak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kim Novak. Show all posts
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Sunday, January 09, 2011
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Here I was born and here I died
Kim Novak at home in Big Sur
Kim Novak:
I’ve always admired trees. I just worship them. Think what trees have witnessed, what history, such as living through the Civil War, yet they still survive. I’ve always felt that part of why they survive is because they don’t try to intercede, to advise ‘No, that’s the wrong way,’ or to try and wipe out an army. They stood and observed.
When I read that part of the Hitchcock script where Madeleine and Scottie are among the redwoods, she touches the tree rings and says, “Here I was born and here I died. It was only a moment. You took no notice,’ I got goose-bumps. When it came to shoot that scene, I had goose-bumps.
That scene in Vertigo I felt more than any other, except the one in which Judy says to Jimmy’s character that if she lets him change her, will he love her? And she says she’ll do it, she doesn’t care any more about herself. That scene was so important to me. I was so naked there, so willing to be anything he wanted, just to be loved.
Bunny Yaeger
Dorothy Iannone
Friday, January 01, 2010
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Bell, Book and Candle
"You ought to call it 'What Every Young Witch Ought to Know' and include a DIY kit with every sale." -Jimmy Stewart
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
missive from the farmlife [or, iris]
dear emily,
the bird sounds here are intense right now.
They're migrating and Ashbourne farm is a frequent stopover on their route. ("I feed them so they come," says Carlton.)
From 5:30 to 9:30 is four hours of subtly fading harmony and dissonance, a chirping, trilling wall of sound.
On smells:
The smells here are so recognizable: The kitchen smells of old wooden cutting boards, smoky meat, and coffee. It smells the same as their kitchen in London. I imagine their kitchens have smelled that way since Italy.
No hay (although I think they throw some down on the asparagus beds) but miles and miles of rolling grass.
The lilac scent has grown oppressive. A spell indeed. Sweet, hypnotic, it sneaks up you and takes over. All floral! More floral than you can imagine. An unexpected embrace.
But I've become fascinated with the iris scent. I've always read that iris is the hardest scent to capture, to bottle. I'm starting to see why.
I've always thought that irises were so subtle as to be almost scentless. But this morning I picked one and was blown away (and relieved after all that showy and obvious lilac scent.) It smelled regal, of course, even purple, if that can have a smell, but this morning it also smelled like opoponax and sunshine. (Or the way sunshine smells on olive blossoms and leaves.) And something like pixiedust--like ground up Smarties made magical and organic.
Then I smelled the irises that had already been in the vase for a few days. It smelled most recognizably like a florist. Generically alive, elegant and anonymous.
love,
m
the bird sounds here are intense right now.
They're migrating and Ashbourne farm is a frequent stopover on their route. ("I feed them so they come," says Carlton.)
From 5:30 to 9:30 is four hours of subtly fading harmony and dissonance, a chirping, trilling wall of sound.
On smells:
The smells here are so recognizable: The kitchen smells of old wooden cutting boards, smoky meat, and coffee. It smells the same as their kitchen in London. I imagine their kitchens have smelled that way since Italy.
No hay (although I think they throw some down on the asparagus beds) but miles and miles of rolling grass.
The lilac scent has grown oppressive. A spell indeed. Sweet, hypnotic, it sneaks up you and takes over. All floral! More floral than you can imagine. An unexpected embrace.
But I've become fascinated with the iris scent. I've always read that iris is the hardest scent to capture, to bottle. I'm starting to see why.
I've always thought that irises were so subtle as to be almost scentless. But this morning I picked one and was blown away (and relieved after all that showy and obvious lilac scent.) It smelled regal, of course, even purple, if that can have a smell, but this morning it also smelled like opoponax and sunshine. (Or the way sunshine smells on olive blossoms and leaves.) And something like pixiedust--like ground up Smarties made magical and organic.
Then I smelled the irises that had already been in the vase for a few days. It smelled most recognizably like a florist. Generically alive, elegant and anonymous.
love,
m
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