#throw him into the intricate and dark world of idol culture

[aspenous]

Physically unable to draw have some scrapped Yukimiya doodles yahoo

[bludstains-blog1]

❝               you     punched     me     in     the     face          ,          you     made     me     walk     through     𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘁𝘆     water          ,          brought     me     to     a        FUCKING     CRACKHOUSE          (     !     )          .  .  .          and     now          ,          i’m     gonna     have     to     kill     this     fucking     clown          .               ❞

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗     𝖔𝖓𝖊         .          dossier     .

full  name:  richard  james  tozier.

nicknames:  

primarily  known  as  richie.

rich.

trashmouth.

bowers’  gang’s  slew  of  derogatory  nicknames.

‘chee.

age:  twenty - one.

date  of  birth:  march  seventh.

place  of  birth:  derry,  maine.

nationality:  american.

occupation:

college  student.

bartender.

regular  on  the  local  college’s  radio  station.

sexual  &  romantic  orientation:  he’s  gay,  totally  gay  !

gender  identity:  cisgender  male,  using  he/him  pronouns.

hogwarts  house:  ravenclaw.

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗     𝖙𝖜𝖔         .          biographical     .

richard  james  tozier,  known  affectionaly  as  richie  or  trashmouth,  is  the  only  son  of  wentworth  and  maggie  tozier,  and  for  the  most  part  they’re  a  relatively  unassuming  family.  wentworth  is  a  dentist  whose  attitude  towards  his  own  son’s  dental  care  is  simultaneously  strict  and  lax,  and  maggie  makes  a  life  out  of  spoiling  the  fuckshit  out  of  her  boys  but  she  loves  it.  there’s  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  about  the  little  family  they’ve  built   ;   established  in  their  routines,  in  their  practices,  the  toziers  are  nothing  to  write  home  about.

richie’s  a  handful,  admittedly.  diagnosed  with  adhd  when  he  turns  four,  he’s   hyperactive, loud,  histrionic,  a  sarcastic  little  smartass  before  he  knows  what  any  of  those  things  are.  he  keeps  himself  entertained  with  comic  books,  drinking  in  their  bright  colours  and  their  intricate  storylines  and  develops  an  infinite  love  for  their  careworn  pages  and  their  impossible  tales.  they  keep  him  grounded,  strange  as  it  is   — -   when  all  goes  to  shit,  as  it  inevitably  will,  he’ll  thumb  through  an  old  copy  of  uncanny  x-men  and  the  world  doesn’t  seem  so  heavy  anymore.  when  he  gets  his  first  pair  of  glasses,  thick - rimmed  plastic  frames  and  lenses  more  like  coke  bottles  than  actual  lenses,  he  spends  two  hours  spiraling  deep  into  the  familiar  world  of  his  comics.  when  he  gets  tripped  up  the  first  time,  when  he  gets  called  fuckface  or  four - eyes  or  worse,  he  swallows  back  the  lump  in  his  throat  and  legs  it  home  for  his  comics.  when  he’s  reading,  he’s  not  so  hyperactive   — -   he  still  frantically  jiggles  one  leg,  but  he’s  quiet,  introspective   — -   the  silence  is  rare  but  comforting.

his  sense  of  humour  is  sharp  as  anything,  practised  daily  on  his  poor  mother  and  father.  he’s  developed  a  slew  of  Voices,  little  impressions  that  differ  only  in  tone  and  intention,  but  wentworth  and  maggie  encourage  him  to  keep  working,  keep  building  on  them.  his  wit  gets  him  into  trouble  at  school,  and  numerous  teachers  have  written  in  reports  that  richie’s  got  a  bit  of  a  reputation  for  being  a  class  clown.   (   humour  is  a  desperate  attempt  to  grab  out,  to  latch  onto  a  friend  because  really,  he’s  so  fucking  lonely  it  hurts  and  he  just  wants  someone  to  laugh  at  him  and  entertain  his  endless  bullshit  and  be  there.   )

shouldn’t  have  wished  so  hard  for  friends,  because  they  come  along  in  the  form  of  the  losers’  club.  richie  moreso  stumbles  across  them  than  anything   — -   knew  bill  denbrough  because  they  lived  on  the  same  block,  found  him  fuckin’  round  in  the  barrens  with  some  other  kids  and  hey,  it’s  like  they’d  been  best  friends  forever.  there’s  bill,  big  bill,  stuttering  bill,  de  facto  leader  and  richie’s  unspoken  idol.  there’s  stan,  preternaturally  neat  and  it’s like  he  came  out  of  the  womb  like  that,  already  a  coherent  amalgamation  of  smiles  in  his  voice  and  rolled  eyes.  there’s  mike,  with  his  killawatt  smile  and  good  intentions  and  comforting  voice  that  sets  ease  into  richie’s  perpetually  rattled  bones.  ben,  whose  creativity  and  quiet  reassurance  is  something  richie  pines  after  desperately.  beverly,  the  only  girl,  cigarette-scented  voice  of  rhyme  and  reason  and  rationality.  then  there’s  eddie,  and  richie  swallows  up  anything  he  can  say  about  eddie  before  the  words  come  out.

it’s  painful,  realising  you’re  in  love  with  your  best  friend.  it  starts  early,  a  quick  glance  here  and  there  that  lingers,  a  breath  that  catches  in  your  throat  when  you  see  him  smile.  you  try  and  push  the  feelings  down,  swallow  them  whole  before  they  can  infect  every  part  of  you  but  darling,  it’s  never  that  easy.  by  the  time  summer  arrives,  you  are  in  far  too  deep.  you  never  really  recover  from  your  pre - adolescent  tango  with  love,  and  it  develops  into  an  adolescent  waltz  with  it,  and   — -   you  get  the  picture.

what’s  worse  is  knowing  that  you’re  not  the  same  as  the  others.  you  don’t  look  at  beverly  like  bill  and  ben  do,  and  you  hate  yourself  for  it.  you  wish  you  could  find  joy  in  the  sweet  smile  of  the  girl  that  sits  in  front  of  you  in  english,  but  you  find  yourself  drawn  to  the  boy  who  snorts  behind  his  hand  at  your  mistimed  joke.  you  hate  the  way  it  makes  you  feel  warm  and  fuzzy  inside.  you  hate  yourself,  but  you  won’t  speak  that  into  existence  /  choke  on  the  jokes  that  burn  like  acid,  swallow  down  the  insults  you  hurl  at  yourself  when  you  think  no  one  is  watching.  trash  the  trashmouth  --- -  first  one  to  hit  the  trashmouth  where  it  hurts  is  the  trashmouth  himself.

summer  brings   — -   well,  it’s  been  years  now  and  richie’s  still  lost  for  words  that  fit  what  that  summer  really  was.  it  starts  with  a  few  kids  going  missing,  ending  up  dead  and  then  it’s  george  denbrough,  little  georgie,  one  arm  chewed  off  and  yellow  slicker  tainted  sticky  red  and  then  the  whole  world  seems  to  fall  apart.  bill’s  a  madman  on  a  mission,  and  richie  follows   — -   follows  when  it  means  getting  taunted  by  a  demon  clown  alien  thing,  when  it  means  fucking  fighting  said  demon  alien  clown  thing,  snapping  eddie’s  broken  arm  back  into  some  kind  of  place  whilst  bated  breaths  are  held  back  in  case  it  hears.  they  beat  it,  and  richie’s  still  not  sure  how  but  he  knows  that  for  six  months  after,  he  can’t  look  at  a  clown  without  digging  bitten  fingernails  into  calloused  flesh  of  a  palm.  a  year  later,  he  still  jumps  at  too - loud  noises.  two  years  later,  he  starts  seeing  a  therapist  because  his  parents  have  noticed  he  can’t  sleep  in  the  dark  anymore.

he  remembers  the  entirety  of  that  summer  in  vivid  clarity.  he  wishes  he  could  forget.

high  school,  college  applications,  they  all  become  a  blur.  the  losers  spend  most  nights  together,  endless  double  features,  piling  into  cars,  growing  up  and  together  and  apart  until  the  first  one  of  them  leaves,  and  it  feels  like  taking  a  fucking  bullet.  slowly,  they  all  scatter  to  the  wind,  memories  firm  but  never  forgotten  and  richie’s  planning  california,  hot  summers  and  comedy  shows  but  he  ends  up  in  castle  rock,  only  a  stone’s  throw  away  from  derry.

he  studies  political  science,  because  he’s  got  a  weird  aptitude  for  it.  he  finds  comfort  in  arguing  about  trotskyism  and  writing  essays  about  the  fall  of  the  third  reich  at  4  am  in  the  morning,  buzzing  on  caffeine  and  glued  to  the  crackle  of  the  tiny  little  television  he  bought  with  the  majority  of  the  money  he  saved  for  textbooks.  he  barely  attends  lectures,  and  manages  to  ace  his  classes  because  despite  everything,  he’s  brilliant  (  and  no  i  won’t  let  this  point  go  ).  despite  a  well - earned  reputation  for  clownery,  he’s  always  been  a  brilliant  kid  and  he  never  chose  to  go  to  school,  so  he  never  bothered  applying  himself.  he  chooses  college,  therefore  he  works  and  it  shows.  

the  nightmares  persist  well  after  he  thinks  he’s  over  the  events  of  that  summer.  he  wakes  up  in  a  cold  sweat,  throat  sore  from  screaming  and  clutching  ripped  sheets,  and  he  can’t  chase  the  nightmares  away  because  they’re  too  real,  they’re  out  there  and  he  can’t  stand  that  knowledge.  he  can’t  deal  with  it,  so  he  drinks  instead.  there’s  a  few  jack  daniels  bottles  stashed  under  his  bed,  and  he  won’t  let  anyone  know  about  those  or  how  painfully  dependent  he  gets  on  the  hot  burn  of  whiskey  down  the  back  of  his  throat  when  the  nightmares  are  bad  and  he’s  sticking  to  threadbare  sheets.

and  yet,  despite  everything,  he  does  his  best  not  to  change  ---  same  sense  of  humour,  all  bark  and  no  bite,  tinged  with  a  wide  grin  and  sleep - tousled  bedhead.  despite  everything,  he’s  still  the  same  old  richie,  still  loudmouthed  and  too  quick  for  his  own  good  and  too  much  fun  to  be  around.

anyways  i  love  richie  tozier  a  lot  thank  you  for  coming  to  my  ted  talk

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗     𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊     .          fun     facts     .

he  currently  has  a  radio  show  on  the  college  radio  station,  played  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning.  it  keeps  him  up  and  keeps  his  nightmares  away,  for  the  most  part. his  Voices  have  been  getting  gradually  better,  and  he’s   been  considering  doing  a  segment  on  his  radio  show  using  them.

his  entire  room  that  he  rents  in  a  sharehouse  is  covered  in  film  and  music  posters,  not  in  frames  yet  bc  he’s  not  that  kind  of  adult  yet.  he  fucking  loves  star  wars,  and  he  thinks  empire  strikes  back  is  the  coolest  fucking  thing  he’s  ever  seen.  he’s  an  avid  pop  culture  junkie,  swallows  it  all  up  and  ingests  it  until  he’s  glowing  with  it  all.

he  works  as  a  bartender  to  make  ends  meet,  amongst  other  things.  he  hasn’t  been  fired  for  drinking  bourbon  from  the  bottle  yet,   so  that’s  good  for  him.

he  bought  his  first  car  when  he  was  about  seventeen,  and  he  loves  the  damn  thing  even  though  it’s  pretty  much  worthy  of  nothing  but  the  local  trash  heap.

dresses  like  a  fucking  idiot  but  has  that  ever  changed

slowly  he’s  thinking  about  veering  out  into  comedy  n  i  support  it  for  him.  ur  not  jerry  seinfeld  but  try  ur  best  sweetie

a  girl  blew  him  a  kiss  in  high  school  and  he  pretended  like  he  got  shot  and  ‘  died  ’  in  mike’s  arms.  end  scene

[caveartfair]

From Jean-Michel Basquiat to Georgia O’Keeffe, 8 Artists Who Are Style Icons

Artists pour their wildest dreams and deepest emotions into their work. Often, the same could be said for their wardrobes: sartorial evidence of not only their aesthetics, but also their internal spirits. “Beauty and ugliness are a mirage,” Frida Kahlo once said. “Everyone ends up seeing how we are inside.”

Below, we consider eight artists whose unique personal styles reveal something essential about their characters, in some cases becoming inextricable from their artistic personas, and which continue to serve as inspiration for the fashion world. From Georgia O’Keeffe and Jean-Michel Basquiat to Louise Bourgeois and Robert Mapplethorpe, these artists have doubled as haute couture muses and style icons.

Frida Kahlo

Frida with Magenta Rebozo, 1939. Nickolas Muray Bentley Gallery

Frida, Pink/Green Blouse, Coyoacon, 1938. Nickolas Muray Bentley Gallery

Kahlo’s flamboyant, colorful style reflected her interior self: strong, complex, and wholly unique. The painter’s accessories and attire—crowns of flowers, elaborate silver jewelry, dresses saturated with the deep hues of her native Mexico—take center stage in her searing self-portraits and remain instantly recognizable many years after her death, in 1954.

Early physical trauma from a bout of polio and a tram accident left Kahlo’s legs uneven, a condition that she concealed beneath heavily patterned traditional Mexican dresses. The frocks also held conceptual significance for Kahlo; they originated in the Tehuantepec region, which was known for its matriarchal society, run by strong women.

She took to accentuating her most identifiable physical characteristics, too. She darkened her already thick eyebrows, which her husband Diego Rivera once described as “hummingbird’s wings,” with a black pencil, and adorned her hair with colorful ribbons and flowers plucked from her garden.

These details have become inseparable from her revolutionary work and fiery, free-spirited persona. Together, these qualities have inspired fashion designers from Riccardo Tisci to Dolce & Gabbana to Jean Paul Gaultier, whose Spring-Summer 1998 collection was an unmistakable homage to the painter.

Jean-Michel Basquiat

Basquiat, . Otto Duecker Plus One Gallery

Jean-Michel Basquiat, 1984. Andy Warhol Galerie Andrea Caratsch

In the 1980s cult film Downtown 81, Basquiat careens through New York City streets with his signature dreadlocks tied in a knot, an oversized coat draped over his shoulders, and a red collared shirt peeking out under his chin. Occasionally, he’ll pull a can of spray paint from one of his deep pockets and decorate a wall with street poetry.

The wunderkind Neo-Expressionist painter is famous for embedding a vast range of art historical and cultural references into his paintings, from abstract gestures borrowed from Cy Twombly to the language of graffiti and hip-hop that he picked up in his native Brooklyn. His wardrobe was equally eclectic—and inspired. Costume designer John Dunn, who crafted the wardrobe for the 1996 biopic Basquiat, once described the artist’s style as “retro meets hip-hop, meets preppy, meets divine inspiration.”

Whether in his studio or stepping out at one of his favorite haunts, like Mudd Club, Basquiat combined worn Adidas tees with $800 European suits, paint-splattered jeans with tailored jackets, polos with sweatpants. His look caught the eye of designer Rei Kawakubo, who had him walk for Comme des Garçons in 1987—and he has inspired the personal styles of countless designers, stylists, and club kids since.

Robert Mapplethorpe

Self-Portrait, 1980. Robert Mapplethorpe "Robert Mapplethorpe: The Perfect Medium" at Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Los Angeles

Robert & Patti II, Robert Mapplethorpe & Patti Smith, New York, NY, 1969. Norman Seeff Holden Luntz Gallery

In one snapshot of Mapplethorpe, embedded in the pages of Judy Linn’s 2011 book of photos, Patti Smith 1969–1976, about the circle surrounding Smith, he’s seen lighting a cigarette while wearing only leather underwear, a chain necklace, and a bondage cuff as a bracelet. The young photographer was known throughout the galleries, watering holes, and gay clubs he frequented—from Max’s Kansas City to Mineshaft—for his raw, stylized portraits of flowers, bondage, and downtown New York’s brightest young things.

His personal style, which he captured in numerous self-portraits, stood out, too. In his younger days, he often poses shirtless, wearing thick silver rings and long necklaces adorned with beads and shells, his curly hair loose and wild. In later photos, his hair is slicked back and his muscular body often sheathed in leather—a look that nods equally to 1950s greaser style and the trappings of S&M.

Vogue has noted synchronicities between Mapplethorpe’s aesthetic and clothing created by Hedi Slimane, Alexander Wang, and Shayne Oliver’s Hood by Air, while Raf Simons explicitly cited the photographer’s look in his Spring 2017 collection (the corresponding runway show used models who looked suspiciously like Mapplethorpe, too).

Andy Warhol

Nr. 8 – M, 1981. Steve Wood MUCA

Andy Warhol, New York City, 1976. Annie Leibovitz Bernheimer Fine Art

In 2012, When Vogue scoured its archives for mentions of Warhol within the pages of the magazine, they didn’t have to look hard. Their search turned up almost 1,000 results—many of which positioned Warhol as a trendsetter, in the realms of both art and fashion.

Had you been walking through downtown New York in the early 1960s, you might have spotted the Pop Art god by his mop of platinum blond hair and his Ray-Ban Wayfarers. Over time, he added clear-rimmed glasses, wide-striped tees, and safari jackets to his repertoire—all accessories which GQ has credited Warhol for popularizing. He wore these outfits to the raucous parties he hosted in his silver-painted studio, The Factory, which became the stomping grounds of the era’s most experimental and fabulous creatives, from Twiggy and Basquiat to Madonna and Grace Jones.  

Yoko Ono

Photo by Ben Pruchnie via Getty Images.

Catch a glimpse of performance artist and musician Ono on the streets of New York today, and she’ll likely be dressed in a tailored black ensemble, set off with a matching derby hat and a pair of sunglasses—an accessory she routinely sports even when it’s overcast, or she finds herself indoors. While this mix of dark, face-obscuring accessories might render most wearers incognito, it’s become Ono’s trademark uniform, instantly recognizable by the artist’s fans, who span the art, music, and fashion worlds. (Designers threeASFOUR drew directly from Ono’s art and style for their Spring/Summer 2010 collection.)

Ono’s style has been the subject of pop cultural conversation since the 1960s, when she became known for her physically demanding Fluxus performances (like her seminal 1964 Cut Piece, in which she invited strangers to cut her hair and clothes off her body) and her relationship with Beatles idol John Lennon. Then, as now, she wore primarily black and white—the colors she most often uses in her drawings, books, and sculptural installations.

Much of Ono’s work has been inspired by anti-war protest and the ideal of peace, communicated through the color white. Famously, she and Lennon wore white pajamas in their 1969 Bed-In performances, which they conceived as demonstrations against the Vietnam War.

Georgia O’Keeffe

Georgia O'Keeffe, 1918. Alfred Stieglitz The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Georgia O'Keeffe, 1956. Yousuf Karsh Beetles + Huxley

When O’Keeffe was 96 years old, she ordered her last suit: an impeccably designed all-black ensemble—featuring a matching jacket, pants, and vest—from the famous men’s tailor, Emsley.

Throughout her life, O’Keeffe cultivated a personal style that was as elegant and daring as her iconic paintings depicting close-ups of turgid flowers and saturated, sulfurous desert landscapes. Like her artwork, her wardrobe challenged stylistic norms of the time. She tossed aside form-augmenting dresses decorated with feminine details (colorful patterns, intricate lace), in favor of loose-fitting, unadorned tunics and menswear crafted in a restrained palette.

During her early years in Texas and New York, O’Keeffe stuck to minimal black and white dresses, shirts, and skirts, occasionally throwing her husband Alfred Stieglitz’s cape over her shoulders. After moving to New Mexico, her wardrobe became still more androgynous, consisting primarily of simple wrap dresses (some of which she designed herself), blue jeans, suits, kimonos, and her signature vaquero cowboy hat.

O’Keeffe’s minimalist, nonconforming style would go on to influence fashion designers for years to come. In 1984, Calvin Klein crafted an entire collection around her aesthetic, then had Bruce Weber shoot the corresponding campaign at her New Mexico home, Ghost Ranch, in Abiquiú. More recently, magazines like Vogue and designers like Valentino have drawn from her striking wardrobe and carefully curated public persona, which was the subject of a recent exhibition, “Living Modern,” at the Brooklyn Museum.

Pablo Picasso

Picasso painting a gothic pitcher, Madoura, Vallauris, 1953. Yves Manciet Cahiers d'Art

Legend has it that Picasso, the great progenitor of Cubism, painted in nothing but his boxers. One 1957 photograph by David Douglas Duncan even captures the artist posing majestically in tighty-whities. But, when it comes to sartorial choices, the dashing, bald painter is best known for his closet full of striped shirts.

The navy-and-white smocks, which he donned both inside and outside of his studio walls, originated in the mid-1800s in Brittany, France, where they were part of the French Navy’s official uniform. The stripes that spangled each shirt are thought to have represented the number of Napoleon’s victories. They also made it easy to spot the French seamen from afar.

Picasso’s image was shaped by the casual, masculine signifier of this workwear—the appeal of which hasn’t been lost on the fashion world. Style magazines and blogs, from Vogue to The Sartorialist, routinely cite the artist’s no-frills uniform as inspiration, while the moodboard for Fendi’s Spring 2017 men’s collection centered on photos of the artist’s signature getup.

Louise Bourgeois

Photo by Porter Gifford/Corbis via Getty Images.

Alex Van Gelder, portrait of Louise Bourgeois. Courtesy of the artist.

Bourgeois’s groundbreaking sculptures, drawings, and performances are often informed by the sexuality and beauty of the female body. Her style, like her work, celebrated femininity and served as a tool she used to “[command] attention in the male-dominated art world of the Seventies,” explains Dr. Alice Blackhurst, a visual studies scholar.

Over the course of her long life, Bourgeois built a wardrobe oriented around prominent accessories: fisherman’s caps and berets, futuristic sunglasses, and thick fur coats that amplified her small frame. Her work evidenced the artist’s belief in the power of clothing to shock, shift perspectives, and seduce. In the 1970s, she forged her first wearable sculptures: latex getups accented with bulges resembling a sea of breasts, which she paraded on city streets.

For her 1978 performance “A Fashion Show of Body Parts,” she dressed both male and female performers in similarly lumpy sheaths. The piece would go on to inform collections by fashion designers Rei Kawakubo and Hussein Chalayan. More recently, young designer Simone Rocha has cited Bourgeois’s aesthetic as inspiration.

—Alexxa Gotthardt

from Artsy News