The Evil
Escape Is Just A Nerve-Shredding Scream For Salvation!
AMOEBA MUSIC, SAN FRANCISCO GRAFFITI PART IV
On the Amoeba Music wall & alley/parking lot wall on the Haight St store
On a recent trip to the Haight Street Amoeba, I once again found myself drawn to the outside walls of Amoeba Music San Francisco - specifically the top part of the wall outside from Haight Street down to the corner of the alley (away from Golden Gate Park) that leads to the parking lot where all that gradually changing wall of graf lays in beautiful, bright colorful wait - including the barred windows with their intricate tags that always remind me of stumbling upon some hieroglyphics in some ancient cave.
Luckily on the day I took these pics - including above - I caught the Amoeba parking lot almost empty - with only one car parked in front of those beloved droopy eyed heads that offer comfort to many an admirer. There will be another set of pics (Part V) posted in a week - also taken recently and featuring more of the graf around SF Amoeba.
Among graffiti artists there is a code - many rules of the game - one is that you only tag businesses or public property - not private - meaning people's houses or dwellings: of whatever shape.
But today I passed a red brick apartment building with an ugly ole tag rudely scrawled along the side of it - and I thought to myself: I guess homeboy didn't get the memo!
Today is Ingmar Bergman’s birthday!
I know – you’re ready to leap from the computer to rush out to buy a piñata and cake.
Or, more likely, you re-read the above sentence a couple times as your brain grappled with confusion over whether or not I wrote Ingrid Bergman. Quite possibly, some of you still think I did.
Actress Ingrid Bergman, star of "Casablanca" and the Bergman film "Autumn Sonata";
no relation to the director and much better looking in a dress.
I’m not being (intentionally) condescending; it’s just that that’s what seems to happen every time I gush about my most favorite film director.
Fellini, Buñuel, Pasolini, Hitchcock, Godard, Woody Allen… There are many film directors that cause me to go weak in the superego, but none of them so deeply penetrate my soul and slop it on the screen like ol’ Ingmar.
Furthermore, many of his films star his ex-wife and one of my favorite actresses, Liv Ullman.
Liv Ullman looking ravishing as she has a nervous breakdown in "Persona"
I’m the first to admit that his films aren’t for everyone. They’re an intimidating option when considering an evening’s entertainment. When faced with “what to do”, who in their right mind would subject themselves to a somber, cryptic and psychologically penetrating film in which handsome Swedes come to grips with their innermost core-of-self amidst Midnight Sun landscapes?
Blade Of The Ripper
He's Out There Killing Them One By One... Who Is Next ?
The Kindred
Anthony Isn't Your Typical Bottle Baby...
