Sunday, July 18, 2010
I've wasted a lot of time at the Institute for Official Cheer but I never wandered through this gallery. It's amazing.
I don't know how you feel about women with their underpants inexplicably around their ankles. I tend to vote in favor, but I understand if that's not your bag. As a painter by training (I recently picked up the brushes after a long hiatus, New Orleans does that) it never occurred to me that there may be a market in pictures of embarrassed women. I don't see why not. It's practically an industry standard in all other media.
What I like about New Orleans women isn't just their sauciness. I admire their strength and resilience. I admire their pluck. Being a man isn't all it's cracked up to be. It's good, don't get me wrong. There is something to be said for wearing pants, as the above picture proves. New Orleans, the most seductive of cities, has both a soft spot and a pedestal for the women who call it home. The sexes are equal without arguments or regrets.
I haven't seen any embarrassed women during my short sojourn in the Crescent City. I haven't seen any women take any guff either. Women shouldn't take any guff.
A tip of the fedora to James Lileks for celebrating the work of the artiste Art Frahm.