#duggie fields
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Duggie Fields (1945-2021) — E= MC Square [oil on canvas, 1976]
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Duggie Fields (British, 1945-2021), Another Therapeutic Posture, 1984. Acrylic on canvas, 139.5 x 152.7 cm.
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Syd's painted floorboards are for sale. Read the Church article at: https://atagong.com/iggy/archives/2024/06/the-case-of-the-painted-floorboards-v-2024.html
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Zandra Rhodes' new autobiography, Iconic: My Life in Fashion in 50 Objects, is out now.
'In this insightful memoir, Zandra shares her life story for the first time. Told through a variety of mementos collected over the years, it is a vibrant account filled with rockstars and royalty, of life-changing friendships and poignant reflections on her personal triumphs and tragedies, as well as the fears, sacrifices and pressures that come with being an era-defining designer.
Full of poignant reflections and life lessons on achieving success while defying convention, Zandra takes the reader right alongside her as she recounts being inspired by her avant-garde mother to her time at the Royal College, from a road trip to Rome with Ossie Clark and Celia Birtwell, to opening her first London store thanks to a kind loan from Vanessa Redgrave with Joe Cocker singing With a Little Help From My Friends, from hanging out with Andy Warhol and Halston in New York's Studio 54 to lifelong friendships with legends such as Karl Lagerfeld and Diana Vreeland; from designing for everyone from Freddie Mercury to Diana Ross, Princess Diana to Barbra Streisand to founding the Fashion and Textile Museum.
Capturing the rich and unexpected life of a British icon, this memoir explores what it is to defy the norm.'
#zandra rhodes#fashion#fashion history#british designer#autobiography#book#non fiction#biography#print#pattern#2024#iconic#1960s#1970s#1980s#1990s#diana vreeland#ossie clark#duggie fields#freddie mercury#the fashion and textile museum#2000s#2010s#karl lagerfeld
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Duggie Fields (UK, Tidworth, August 6, 1945 - 2021)
...
SOMETIMES I COULD SCREAM AND SHOUT
SOMETIMES I CAN NEARLY WORK IT OUT
SOMETIMES PEOPLE SCARE THE HELL OUT OF ME
SOMETIMES THEY DO IT SO SEDUCTIVELY
SOMETIMES IT'S ONLY DOWN TO WEALTH
SOMETIMES THERE IS ONLY HEALTH
...
from Prose
and his music:
youtube
http://www.duggiefields.com/prose/prose_index.htm
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duggie fields in rapture: art's seduction by fashion since 1970 - chris townsend (2002)
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Dugout solo civvie angst, 620 words.
i wanted to explore a world where duggy and mari dont have each other as civilians >_< this is pretty self-indulgent exploration of his loneliness.... still trying to get back into the groove of writing.
The door shuts heavily behind him. He drops his backpack on the lone wooden chair that waits for him.
Then he enters, his empty home alone. The silence weighs heavy against the walls of his home. His own footsteps echo in the cavernous emptiness of his little apartment, as he makes his way to the kitchen.
Nobody waits for him there. He opens his fridge, which is empty in spirit, but only half-full in reality. He pulls out a carton of milk, half-empty.
His fingers nimbly unfold the opening of the milk. Then his fingers wrap the carton’s body, arm flexing to lift it to his lips. Leisurely, he takes a long drag of milk.
From the floor above, he can hear quiet chatter, and a bursting of giggles bubbles out. It’s bittersweet... not the milk, the sounds. The neighbors upstairs, he thinks, are a mother and daughter.
He puts down the jug of milk.
They’re nice, he thinks. He’s spoken briefly with the mother... Just about how he likes the city, the trash pickup schedule... Their laughter and chatter leaks through the ceiling, though, what little he can make out of their words is in Spanish, and he doesn’t speak Spanish.
Dugout sighs, putting the jug of milk back into the fridge. He shuts the giant machine, and it hums to him, his only company.
Dugout then goes to the living room. He flops to the couch, sighs, and then falls over onto his left side. There he lays. For a long time, quiet. Nothing else for him to do, nothing else that would be worth the time, that would make a difference. The world passes him by the same.
About two hours later, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He forgets about the thing half the time. Dugout grunts as he reaches to pull it out of his pocket, the movement awakening achey muscles from their uncomfortable positioins.
He pulls up his phone, bringing it to his eyes. Doug blinks blearily, squinting. He realizes only now that he never turned on the lights- that the setting sun has made its journey to bed... much like he should. So the light of his phone hurts his eyes.
But when the phone screen comes into focus, he’s only met with heartache.
“Anonymous asked you: You seriously dont care? Why dont you ki...”
Dougout drops his phone.
He’s been receiving these “anons” since he made the mistake of answering that first ask. Saying terrible things to him, about him.
..Is this what people think of him? Is this his public perception? Tolerated for his heroism, hated for his flaws?
Dugout covers his eyes with his hands. He hasn’t even changed his clothes, still covered in the dirt of the baseball field, of sweat and running laps. He supposes he should...
Getting up is hard, though. His muscles hurt to begin with, and his tummy hurts from drinking only milk today.
But he’s distracted from the misery by a howl of laughter from above. It scares him at first, nearly springing him out of his seat- his mind racing, he’s already thankful that he’s still in his outfit....
But then it’s just laughter. Of Mrs. Q and her daughter. He can just barely make out the fumble of sound effects and chatter from a TV, but not really as the women laugh together.
.... His heart begins to settle. And he sighs quietly. He’s proud, to protect citizens like this. And though that's what matters, the real man behind the hero sits alone in his cold apartment, and hurts.
If he died, would anybody know? Ironically, yes, everyone would.
.. But all the same, nobody would notice, or care, or remember his name.
#mlb irl#gabby drabbies#angst#dugout#cullykisser#;;;; sorry for the abrupt ending i made myself sad and really couldnt bare to go on ;;;;
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Mutucule Farm (#10)
2023-02-20, session #10 of Mutucule Farm!
Cast:
Me (@mothmute — Yoshi)
Belle (@snacco — Dry Bones)
Cam (@amanitaspore — Shyguy)
Erin (@salamand3rin — Shyguy or Daisy, depending on whether everybody else hates Daisy)
Highlights include, but are not limited to:
Upgrading Pompkin to be bigger and flatter
mmm, cherry bombs, delicious
content warning: backpacks
look, when a mommy baba yaga hut and a daddy baba yaga hut love each other very much,...
“snompkin” (I do not remember the context)
Marnie: great person, questionable business owner
horse envy!!
Belle finds a weird doll
Gunther can tell you more! ... but do you really want him to?
Belle gets prairie king’d by Abigail
(The Prairie King eats your time)
Delivering Willy a Squid at midnight. squidnight, if you will
Cam holds a burger over his head, and it looks like a hat
I acquire birds!
My naming theme for the birds are birds:
Catbird, Bluejay, Heron, and Grackle
Penny having a little winter picnic with the kids, wants me to tell them about country living!
one of the options says we have the best lumber south of Grampleton. hey, where the fuck is Grampleton?
Vincent wants to know more about goblins
I find a garbage hat!! Wrong farm!!
Belle considers more farm animals, I tell her to goat for it
“I’ll send little Baphomet to her new home right away” thanks Marnie
(The other one is “Black? Phillip”)
RIP Cam, dead in the mines
Cheesecourse rears its ugly head again!
Datin’ Penny
I get a heart event with Penny where she poisons me
... and I click exactly when the dialog options come up, accidentally choosing to lie and say it’s delicious, fantastic
I am one step closer to the Slutch
Sebastian says the frogs aren’t very happy in this weather (it’s winter), saying “poor little guys”— I admire his commitment to frogs
I deliver Emily a rock from Clint and get a smooch
Access to the sewers and Krobus
would talking about void eggs be ... vegg-blogging?
Shane has an encounter with a bear! (pictured below)
I’m just gonna hold onto these eggs
“until they hatch?”
... yes.
“are you going to sit on them?”
The Fish Archives start paying off immediately
Deluxe pack!!
hey guys, who do you main in Junimo Cart?
(Listed up in the “cast”)
Ice fest teleports us from the town entrance to the farm entrance
... why was there a woodpecker on that igloo?
Demetrius forgets his jacket (again)
Cool Pigloo
revvin’ up that hog!
Fish contest!
Belle & Erin take one hole, Cam & I take the other (ours is cursed and I leave)
It’s a tie between me and Belle!
lape nipe snea snap
I wear the victory hat immediately, Belle sticks with the witch hat
“witch hat stays on during sex”
My miserable field of winter forageables is up!
stay away from my crops
Remote milking technology is here, milk wi-fi
Quest to go into the mines and rustle up some grubs!
I hit the Duggy reward in the process
Belle & Sebastian is canon!
Camily is canon!
(I handed Cam a bouquet, we might legally be dating now, too)
The Witch and the Snowman are dating, too (pictured below)
Caroline just sticks a stamp on a potato and mails it to me
I find another garbage hat!! Wrong farm!!
Erin moves the bears around, musical bears
ordering pizza from Jumino’s, instead they remove a glittering boulder
TO-DO:
Fruit trees for the greenhouse? Apples, for bundle-related reasons?
Taller barns? Wider barns? Sheep? Hog??
Taller coop, more birds?
idk, we always need tool upgrades
More! Romance!
Photos:
Shane and the Bear at the Stardrop Saloon
snowman and witch are dating
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I think I'm in a real Duggie Fields/Syd Barrett situation with my new roommate
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Stephen Linard, the Blitz Kid fashion designer who made clothes for David Bowie, Boy George and Spandau Ballet, died on the 10th of March 2024, aged 64, after enduring painful cancer during recent months. David Johnson remembers the life and career of the man he knew:-
“The press called them the New Romantics and the Blitz Kids, declaring the Eighties the Age of the Pose. Art-school tutor Rosetta Brooks compared their self-consciously styled poses to ‘street theatre ultimately extended into continuous performance as a post-punk embodiment of Gilbert and George in one person (the individualist).’ Each poser, she believed, is a ready-made. Step forward fashion student Stephen Linard, who ticked all the above boxes ~ a flamboyant Canvey Island boy, born on the 26th of March 1959, who attended the Southend School of Art (1975-78) and yearned to make a statement in every street or room he graced.
Arriving at St Martin’s School of Art in London (1978-81), Linard pushed the boundaries of excess. Annually, second-year students organised an Alternative Fashion Show but in May 1980 the college’s resoundingly prim middle-class students were out-gunned when Linard sent out his sensational Neo Gothic collection ~ a stark collision of Space 1999 meets liturgical Gothic meets the masonic livery which was displayed in shops serving the Freemasons’ Hall just along the street from the Blitz Club, the capital’s coolest nightspot.
The audience erupted in cheers. Strutting the runway to the Human League came the then-unknown George O’Dowd sporting a soaraway post-punk mullet atop sharp grosgrain suit with dog collar, Michele Clapton and Myra Falconer wearing risen-from-the-dead pallor beneath shaven heads, along with Fiona Dealey and Julia Fodor (today, Princess Julia). Their vestments were accessorised with religious motifs while emanating a curiously spare chic. Finally, all in white as a “space-age pope”, came gifted Lee Sheldrick, modelling a white silk grosgrain suit with his head shaved bald to become the embodiment of Nosferatu the Vampyre. Resonances abounded for the show’s title to be adopted by the nascent Goth movement.
One year later Linard was determined to submit menswear for his degree collection, despite the efforts of the head of the fashion department to insist on women’s wear. She actually threatened to eject Linard from the college until strong internal protests backing Linard’s pursuit of menswear ultimately prevailed. Modelled by six of his hunky clubland pals, his collection titled Reluctant Emigrés featured swishy draped cashmere greatcoats, patched pinstripe trousers and city shirts that all evinced an Edwardian air of immaculate tailoring punctuated with edgy details.
Linard’s street-savvy lads made a gasp-out-loud impact, as Fleet Street’s Suzy Menkes noted in print. Historians Alan J. Flux and Daryl F. Mallett have also written: ‘The clothes were instantly covetable, thoroughly masculine in an entirely new way, and electrifying as only the truly innovative can be.’ Linard won his first-class Honours degree.
The fashion press feted him upon graduation. His outrageous fashion details flagged direction for the two dozen sharpest Blitz Kids who shaped the New Romantics silhouette from the Blitz onwards. Most significantly, Linard changed his own appearance daily from his foppish Fauntleroy dandy, to the Endangered Species outfit made from animal skins, to the cowboy gilded from hat to toe. Linard has admitted: ‘The competition pushed you on, especially Lee Sheldrick. At the Warren Street squat [where they lived] you might change what you were going to wear eight times on a Tuesday to try to outdo everyone else at the Blitz.’
Inspiration was all around. In 2020 Linard said: ‘The Blitz was an art students’ club. The place was choc-a-bloc with artists: Brian Clarke, Zandra Rhodes, Molly Parkin, Antony Price, Duggie Fields, Kevin Whitney and us because it was halfway between Central School and St Martin’s. People who said ~ Oh you Blitz Kids don’t DO anything ~ were talking rubbish, because WE all did. We were the ones with our work in the glossy magazines long before the rest.’
Linard’s styles had always been sought after by pop-star contemporaries from Spandau Ballet, Boy George, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Haysi Fantayzee and The Slits, to U2, the Bee Gees, Womack & Womack, even Cliff Richard and Johnny Mathis, and ultimately to the great god David Bowie himself.
In 1982 the Railway Children collection of stripey Edwardian coats and frocks for school-girls became the first of Linard’s two womenswear collections. He was one of six budding British designers taken to Paris by Blitz Club host Steve Strange to help launch his Anvil album, but also to show that the English could be as stylish as the French ~ staged at Europe’s coolest nightclub, Le Palace.
Meanwhile Linard’s reputation went on growing among the international fashion set. 1983 brought his collection Angels with Dirty Faces, inspired by the Bogart-Cagney gangster movie set in the Thirties depression. It was both pretty and poignant and it sold worldwide. That year, the snappiest magazine of the day, New York, headlined a special fashion section The British Are Here, and selected as the UK’s five leading lights Jean Muir, Zandra Rhodes, Katherine Hamnett, Vivienne Westwood ~ and Stephen Linard, ‘one of the most creative of the young designers’.
From 1983 to ’86 Stephen lived in Tokyo designing for Jun Co, the fashion giant, on a salary which, he liked to boast, exceeded the prime minister Margaret Thatcher’s. From 1989 until recently Stephen was a key player on the design team at Drake’s, the respected men’s haberdasher in Savile Row.
As recently as 2018, Laird Borrelli-Persson was writing in Vogue online: ‘Stephen Linard deserves credit for many innovations in fashion and its presentation that we take for granted… One of the Blitz Kids whose dandyish ways had an outsize impact on 1980s style, his early work was distinguished not only by irreverence, but also by a strong sense of narrative… Linard insists his aim was not to cause outrage. ‘I was into doing couture stuff and I was “just making clothes,” really, as Sonia Rykiel used to say.’
From September to October 2023, a solo exhibition presented his archive of drawings, photographs and garments titled Total Fashion Victim in St Leonard’s-on-Sea, where he had lived since 2020 along with many other former Blitz Kids. It was fitting ~ Total Fashion Victim was the name of the one-nighter Linard hosted at the Wag Club during the Eighties.”
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Sleep well, Jordan
(Here as Mammea Morgana, who slept her way from Bath to Rome, in Derek Jarman’s Sebastiane.)
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Duggie Fields (1945-2021) — French Curve [acrylic on canvas, 1971]
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Duggie Fields (British, 1945-2021), Form Follows Fashion, 1987. Acrylic on canvas, 76 x 101.5 cm.
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Duggie Fields Worrying Situation 1969, Acrylic on canvas 39 x 31 in
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Duggie Fields
Study for Joie de Vivre, 1978
Elephant Magazine
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