Marion Borgelt’s work "Cryptologist’s Memoir No.35" is part of the Memoir series and was inspired by the death of 98year old Yang Huaanyi - the last living person fluent in Nushu, a secrent women’s written language over a thousand years old. the remarkable work in sculpted beeswax and oil comments on hidden language. Nushu is believed to have been invented by one of the Emperor's concubines in the Hunan Province of Southern China and passed down from mother to daughter in the form of poetry and feminine advice often disguised as patterning in embroidery. during a time when women were not permitted to be educated, and unable to read or write their own thoughts and feelings, they communicated with each other through messages written on embroidered gifts.
- mauve long tulle skirt, think Adelaide st in Brisbane
- Gossip Girl mum's reading glasses
- tan floral ish cut-out stiff cropped over pink fluoro faded lace sheer over white shear pleats, fall ish drapes easily. for top half sort of like gossip girl Sarina silver cage dress
'A Life in the Day of Benjamin André (Incomplete)':
i met you in a club in Atlanta, Georgia, said 'me and my homeboy - we're coming out with an album'. you looked at me like 'yeah nigga, right,' but you gave me you number anyway. you were on the talcum powder.
moved away from home to school with big plans. by day, studied the history of music, by night, just to pay for that shit you'd dance. to get your pants was a mission impossible, we were both the same age but i suppose wasn't on the same page.
we starting hanging like Ernie and Bert and in my idle head i'm thinking, 'cool', just when i think i'm going down your shirt, you're hiking up your skirt now. the angelic nastiness you possessed made you by far the best, therefore hard to tell. you'd dropped me off by the dungeon, never came in, but i knew that you were wondering, 'now are these niggas in this house up to something? selling crack by sacks so they could function?' well, yes and no. yes, we were selling it, but no, it wasn't blow. cook it in the basement then move it at a show, then grab the microphone and everybody yelled 'hey-oh'.
meanwhile, the video starts playing BET college radio and a van packed full of niggas with a blunt in their hand, and one in their ear - you know what i'm saying. but, i kept your number in my old phone. got a new chip flip with the roam roam. so it took me a minute to retrieve seven digits, but i promised i would call you when i got home. but, when i got home i never did. by the time i did, heard that you had a kid by some nigga in Decatur who replied 'see you later' when he got the good news..that life shit.
now, I'm nineteen with a Cadillac. my nigga had a Lex with the gold pack, got a plaque but i'm living with my pop pop so i got glock and a low jack. you kinda fast for that fella in class who used to draw and never said much, cause half of what he saw was so far from that place you wanna be.
are you starting to gather what I'm getting at? now, if i'm losing you, tell me then i'll double back. but keep in mind, at the time 'keep it real' was the phrase. silly once said now, but those were the days when spring break and Daytona and Freakniks made you wanna drop out of college and never go back..move to the south, but that ain't a Kodak moment. on went myself and Big Boi - well you knew him as Twan. that's right you were around before this shit begun. ..when Twan had a daughter and sort of was made to mature before the first tour.
we hit the road like Jack - laughed and cried, and drived it back with some Yak. girls used to say, 'y'all talk funny, y'all from the islands?' and i'd laugh and they just keep smiling. 'no, i'm from Atlanta baby, he from Savannah, maybe. we should hook up and get tore up and then lay down, hey. we got to go because the bus is pulling out in 30 minutes.' she's playing tennis - disturbing the tenants. 15-love, fit like glove. description is like 15 doves in a jacuzzi catching the Holy Ghost. making one woozy in the head and comatose, agree?
enough about me, how's about you? how's the lil' kid? she was about 2 the last time we spoke..i hadn't smoked or took a shot of drink cause i'd start the 2nd album off on another note. now, that note threw some niggas in the hood off, but see, i'd balled out, and before i fall out i'd slow my 'Lac down to a nice speed. the brain is that fried egg - i might need new direction, was apparent. i was a child looking at the floor staring. so changing my style was like release for the primitive beast. yes i was on the rise, yeast was the street. to make bread - never primary concern. just to hop on these beats and wait my turn.
i'd meet Muslims, ganstas, bitches, Rastas, and macaroni niggas - imposters. so on a trip to New York on some beeswax i get invited to a club where MCs at, and on stage is a singer with some thing on her head. similar to the turban that i covered up my dreds with - which o was rocking at the time. when i was going through them phases trying to find anything that seemed real in the world. still searching, but i started liking this girl. now you know her as Erykah. we're young, in love, in short we had fun. no regrets no abortion, had a son by the name of Seven - and he's five. by the time i do this mix, he'll probably be six - you do the arithmetic. ..me do the language arts. y'all stand against the wall blindfolded, me throw the darts to poke you in the heart and take you from the start to one luxury transportation and a Marta card, or either when your girlfriend that went to Mays
Momma or her Daddy let her borrow the Benz because she's smart. or maybe if your neighbor does you a huge favor and he sells you that rabbit that's been sitting in his yard. you fix it up, you trick it out, you give it rims, you give it bump. you give it all your time because that's all you can think about.
..and that's as far as i got.
- mauve long tulle skirt, think Adelaide st in Brisbane
- Gossip Girl mum's reading glasses
- tan floral ish cut-out stiff cropped over pink fluoro faded lace sheer over white shear pleats, fall ish drapes easily. for top half sort of like gossip girl Sarina silver cage dress
'A Life in the Day of Benjamin André (Incomplete)':
i met you in a club in Atlanta, Georgia, said 'me and my homeboy - we're coming out with an album'. you looked at me like 'yeah nigga, right,' but you gave me you number anyway. you were on the talcum powder.
moved away from home to school with big plans. by day, studied the history of music, by night, just to pay for that shit you'd dance. to get your pants was a mission impossible, we were both the same age but i suppose wasn't on the same page.
we starting hanging like Ernie and Bert and in my idle head i'm thinking, 'cool', just when i think i'm going down your shirt, you're hiking up your skirt now. the angelic nastiness you possessed made you by far the best, therefore hard to tell. you'd dropped me off by the dungeon, never came in, but i knew that you were wondering, 'now are these niggas in this house up to something? selling crack by sacks so they could function?' well, yes and no. yes, we were selling it, but no, it wasn't blow. cook it in the basement then move it at a show, then grab the microphone and everybody yelled 'hey-oh'.
meanwhile, the video starts playing BET college radio and a van packed full of niggas with a blunt in their hand, and one in their ear - you know what i'm saying. but, i kept your number in my old phone. got a new chip flip with the roam roam. so it took me a minute to retrieve seven digits, but i promised i would call you when i got home. but, when i got home i never did. by the time i did, heard that you had a kid by some nigga in Decatur who replied 'see you later' when he got the good news..that life shit.
now, I'm nineteen with a Cadillac. my nigga had a Lex with the gold pack, got a plaque but i'm living with my pop pop so i got glock and a low jack. you kinda fast for that fella in class who used to draw and never said much, cause half of what he saw was so far from that place you wanna be.
are you starting to gather what I'm getting at? now, if i'm losing you, tell me then i'll double back. but keep in mind, at the time 'keep it real' was the phrase. silly once said now, but those were the days when spring break and Daytona and Freakniks made you wanna drop out of college and never go back..move to the south, but that ain't a Kodak moment. on went myself and Big Boi - well you knew him as Twan. that's right you were around before this shit begun. ..when Twan had a daughter and sort of was made to mature before the first tour.
we hit the road like Jack - laughed and cried, and drived it back with some Yak. girls used to say, 'y'all talk funny, y'all from the islands?' and i'd laugh and they just keep smiling. 'no, i'm from Atlanta baby, he from Savannah, maybe. we should hook up and get tore up and then lay down, hey. we got to go because the bus is pulling out in 30 minutes.' she's playing tennis - disturbing the tenants. 15-love, fit like glove. description is like 15 doves in a jacuzzi catching the Holy Ghost. making one woozy in the head and comatose, agree?
enough about me, how's about you? how's the lil' kid? she was about 2 the last time we spoke..i hadn't smoked or took a shot of drink cause i'd start the 2nd album off on another note. now, that note threw some niggas in the hood off, but see, i'd balled out, and before i fall out i'd slow my 'Lac down to a nice speed. the brain is that fried egg - i might need new direction, was apparent. i was a child looking at the floor staring. so changing my style was like release for the primitive beast. yes i was on the rise, yeast was the street. to make bread - never primary concern. just to hop on these beats and wait my turn.
i'd meet Muslims, ganstas, bitches, Rastas, and macaroni niggas - imposters. so on a trip to New York on some beeswax i get invited to a club where MCs at, and on stage is a singer with some thing on her head. similar to the turban that i covered up my dreds with - which o was rocking at the time. when i was going through them phases trying to find anything that seemed real in the world. still searching, but i started liking this girl. now you know her as Erykah. we're young, in love, in short we had fun. no regrets no abortion, had a son by the name of Seven - and he's five. by the time i do this mix, he'll probably be six - you do the arithmetic. ..me do the language arts. y'all stand against the wall blindfolded, me throw the darts to poke you in the heart and take you from the start to one luxury transportation and a Marta card, or either when your girlfriend that went to Mays
Momma or her Daddy let her borrow the Benz because she's smart. or maybe if your neighbor does you a huge favor and he sells you that rabbit that's been sitting in his yard. you fix it up, you trick it out, you give it rims, you give it bump. you give it all your time because that's all you can think about.
..and that's as far as i got.
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