TonyaKnudsen.com "” 2002: PostModern Dame



[This message was edited by TonyaKnudsen on 07-08-03 at 03:25 AM.]

In the midst of this political, social and economical ˜day of reckoning,' where I could fear going to work daily, cry from watching the news and shrivel from ineptitude as far as pursuing my career or ambitions: a strange new voice has been awakened in my psyche.

It is more than an introverted communication.
It is more than poetic expression.
It is perhaps a raison d'être, a glow that carries me out my door in the morning and gives me the zest to conquer, stomp and do a bit of runway everyday.
It is a drive in me to create and to appreciate the beauty I see in the world around me.

It is ... art.

PostModern Dame New Year 2002 - Beat - TBA
PostModern Dame Fall 2002 - FloorShow
PostModern Dame Summer 2002 - UnSound
PostModern Dame Spring 2002 - Self-titled, debut.

Post Modern Dame takes inspiration from: 80s art direction/fashion composition; industrial, punk and noize rhythms; straight-forward expression; dark, introverted psychology; disturbing, witchy and sexual-imagery (victims of their own devices) trapped neither in the foreground nor the background. PostModern Dame is semi-nude / erotic females in various unnatural, alluring, shades of tragic decay.

Each collection is primarily comprised of digitally-rendered drawings (a medium I call Digital Lead), each with its own elegiac theme and an over-all audio composition for each collection. (What I get in real-life discussions at my shows are a lot of Nagel comparisons. This I can live with, and live for.)

[This message was edited by TonyaKnudsen on 09-11-02 at 01:02 AM.]

Ms. Knudsen, when I first saw your show at Womb, I grew an immediate interest into what it was you were creating with your music and visuals... as opposed to seeing a performer just sing and stay in one place, you were performing and moving all over the place, and yet it was as if while you were performing you were also part of the audience (ya gotta have been there), So of course after being intrigued by your visuals I had to get a copy of your demo, which I really liked. Partly becuase it sounds so experimental and brand new as a music genre and partly becuase of the messages (and how they are) conveyed through both the instruments and vocals.
All in all, its RAD!!! and I think performers like you are what we need right now to create an ecclectic NYC nightlife which can provide art and intellectual stimulation as well as fun, and all kinds of expression.
Now that I wrote a novel, I'm going to get back to breaking in these new heels...they are so uncomfy!
SMOOCHES,
-Andro

And, I mean my heart and ego from that one!!!

Many thanks Andro (who I too think is just about one of the most stunning ones out there kicking up the dust these days)!

I thought I would bombard my topic with images and stories from shows I've had lately. So please enjoy this little note and image collage from "Inside a new wave ingénuie's bottle" which took place July 24 at at the Gehenna party at Opaline ...

------------------------------------------ingénuie was a special kind of genie who invented for herself all sorts of ways to escape. often trapped for eons inside the timeless confines of her bottle ... such lyrical, grinding and telling noise would she make.

in dim solitary ... of all that was unknown to her, she craved most: excitement, lust and bitter ends. she fancied herself in numerous, leaden guises; and, into these captivating images, she would stare for hours ... worshipping, marauding and falling in love over and over again with her depravity.

ingénuie was indeed an odd little being, wholly consumed by her own little sphere (ubiquitously adorned in wistful transparency and crinoline). yet, she held her void to be utterly enticing; and to those seeking wishes, she often wondered ...
won't you come in?

------------------------------------------
Many thanks to Steelow, Club Opaline and the other collective of promoters who host Gomorrah and Gehenna for having "Inside a new wave ingénuie's bottle".

Thanks to Lisssa for taking pictures (attached) and Andre for videotaping.
Unbelievable additional thanks to Laurie and Doug for several "not-so-fun" hours of hanging syran wrap (which brought my concept to life for only about as long as it took to hang).

June 15 @ Womb/Remote

First, I would very much like to thank Abby and Remote for allowing me (on faith) the opportunity to try doing something new.

Although the crowd was limited ... those attending were fabulously eclectic and the sparse atmosphere ideal for the Avant-garde ... (Avant-garde meaning not the safe recycling of doing something you know people will like; but for attempting something definitively raw and reflective of the not-yet defined era in which it is produced.)

The art installation itself went extremely favorably, I received a great many compliments on the new work and will post the images to TonyaKnudsen.com shortly. I suspect this new collection will appear a few more times this summer (before I have a whole new batch ready to go for fall). I'll keep you posted!

The audio/video presentation snagged some majorly mixed reviews.

-- Some people (mostly those running in chaos from the dance floor) were angered at the affront to their senses; confused by the ghostly images, the cameras and feedback; and, were wondering what the hell was going on ... And to those individuals, I do apologize and thank them for letting me intrude for 5 minutes.

-- On the other hand, there were (and more than I expected) people who really enjoyed it (after the shock wore off). One gentleman told me he hadn't seen anything so original in over 20 years. Another young DJ interested in noise very much expressed curiosity in the music. I got a few thumbs up for the vocals (more thanks than you can ever know to those folks). And, all the people who were involved (who had a hand on a knob or a camera) thought the presentation went tremendously well and had a shit-load of fun doing it. I have videotape coming from a few angles and what I've gotten back so far looks just amazing: truly underground, truly alternative, ultimately dark and completely newborn.

--Will I do it again? That depends on if clubs and promoters will have me. Folks are having a hard time drawing and keeping crowds these days, laws are tough and certainly providing entertainment that will be enjoyed is a valid concern and consideration. Then again, I know there are those out there like me, the truly alternative ones, who want to shake things up despite these ills and make noise for a new generation. (And just as I write this ... I get an email from one such promoter asking me if I'm for doing it again! Now I'm the one that's shocked.)

Special thanks to John Morton of Remote (for setting everything up and handling my nervousness with such professionalism), DJ Lestat (for letting me clear his dancefloor right after he finally got folks on it!), Art Director Andre Michel for his live feed cam videography, Visual Artist Elisa Velasquez for documentary videography, Lisssa of Mz. Pakman for her photography (see photos attached), Sami of Denmark for assisting, and Doug F at the sound board.


[This message was edited by TonyaKnudsen on 08-08-02 at 09:57 PM.]

Saint Rev. Jen's Lower East Side Troll Museum Benefit -- May 23rd

-------------------------------------
The match went unbelievably well. There were several great opening acts preceding our match, which was the main event. We got the crowd so riled up, drunk patrons were grappling with each other for hours after the match. What it was exactly about seeing a really nasty giant girl toss an innocent tiny elf girl around that got all these Lower East Siders so goaded up, I can only surmise.

My debut at the theater was a major hit (thankfully!). Dozens of folks (cast, crew and audience) came backstage after the show to congratulate me on giving such a great villain performance. I surprised myself at how into the character I got, there was even an obvious physical transformation. If you check out the pictures below, I am still Tonya in the one pic in the upper left hand corner, and in all the others, it's Cunny (and damn ugly!). She was one foul, brutal beast that took on not just Jen and the Ref, but the unruly crowd as well.

About the name, I think this character will continue under the name of Dakota Pine, but who knows? Before the show, I was musing with Doug and Nick Zedd that perhaps the villain should have a more vulgar name.

"Cunny" a word Doug and I discovered in the graphic novel "From Hell" and confirmed the definition for in "An Underground Education" was the common Old English word for "the girl area". For some reason, Doug and I have been using it lately (it really is kind of funny).

So I made the comment in jest I could use the name CunnyLips. Nick took the comment at face value. And well, I got quite a surprise when they announced me. It really is a vulgar, vulgar name!

Doug recorded the match and I am working on getting it in an email-able or downloadable format.

-------------------------------------
--Thanks to Lisssa and Sami for coming. Double thanks to Lisssa for taking these excellent snaps (below).
--Thanks to Elisa for pre-show support, Make-up Mania and for coming by the theater. Sorry, I couldn't really chat. Your popping by meant a lot to me.
--Thanks to the band Vasaria for the shirt. I was frantically looking for a garish black band shirt to wrestle in and Vasaria's shirt was perfect. Several people filmed this event / took pictures, so don't be surprised to see the moniker displayed across my big old butt! (Well if nothing else, it's easy to read!)
--Doug, just thanks.
--And uber hats off to the genius of Rev Jen.

hmmm... what an impressive mixed bag of tricks... I am sorry to have missed your show @ remote... it looked amazing...

--

feed the fire of your desire...

Love the way you put that BTW.

FYI -- I asked Zazoo and Satori a Q about costuming difficulties in The Club Creatures topic and mentioned a beautiful yet tricky number I once rigged up ca. 1995. I called the outfit Eve, and although it was fashioned by stapling leaves to paper strings tied arround my private parts, the damn thing started to wilt 5 hours after being out in it. What I would have given for a can of fruit fresh that night!

We too were at Remote on the 15th for your show, but missed the visuals. We did get a copy of your CD though.

Really like the sexual tension in your imagery. It brings a real personality to your figures.

I only gave out about 10 CDs that night, and, am trying to piece together meeting you ... I truly have a social dysfunction (caused I suspect by growing up in a really small town). I don't remember people until I have a true conversation of merit with them (which I have now had with you via the boards) so I shall recognize you next time I see you, no matter what guise I find you two in.

Sadly over the years, people have been hurt by my inability to remember meeting them. (Have talked to the likes of Madonna and Iggy Pop and had no clue at the time who they were, until someone told me after). Same thing with Miss Chi Chi herself ... only via getting to know her a bit by email conversations did she come into focus clearly in my cognition.

Some people find this incredibly rude (which is regrettable to me totally). But, I think it is better to wait until I have a "quality meeting" with someone to "get to know them". Otherwise I'm apt to make an assessment based on a first impression, which is the worst thing you can ever do when really getting to know someone.

Sexual tension -- indeed ...

Oh, We KNOW how meeting people in clubs can be...
hard to remember everyone's names, even before our drinks kick in...



Satori


:

FloorShow Audio for all to hear!!!
click here and a badly mastered version of FloorShow will load and play in Real Player if you have it. (I love it when I boost the gain and clip my vocals and it sounds all currupt! If you have good ears (turn this down for listening pleasure.)

---------------------------------About the coming show ...
Post Modern Dame, FloorShow "” Autumn 2002

THEME
Post Modern Dame (fucking weird for weird's sake).
Twisting her brain, she's hard to take.
Too desperate to communicate. Won't give in to anything.
The things she says, you'll walk away. She goes unheard.
Yet she goes on living everyday.
These are the reflections of . . .
What it is to feel this way.
There is beauty in being lame.

WORKS (IN PROGRESS):

FloorShow. Digital Lead. (A rework from the spring show).
-- it's only the floor, look at the messy whore.
vibration. it would be something to smile about,
if emotion were actually called for.
creator. victim. warmth.
behold yet another, never to be known art form.

Sveater. Digital Lead.
-- to imagine yourself wrapped-up and edible.
a confection designed to please. Yourself in no way.

See-through. Digital Lead.
-- to be totally transparent. Make them see through you.

Radian. Digital Lead.
-- the freezing miscellany left stinging subsequent to creating.

Callipygous. Digital Lead.
-- a nineteenth-century adjective for a great big curvy ass.

Sucker. Digital Lead.
-- mis-under-stood-up ... unbelievable resolve ... can't believe.
sitting. stagnating ... not coming. waiting and waiting.

Randy. Digital Lead.
-- giving in to need.

Hamburg. Digital Lead.
-- distant. rambling. tormented. Misshapen. ...
also, a lovely bit of androgyny.

Abracadabra. Digital Lead.
-- to incantate. ... resurrect. remake.

Floorshow. Audio.
-- blue light, skintight, limelight ...
everyone eventually knows ... the floorshow.

FloorShow:

Verse 1: Have you ever been to the floor show?
I first heard about it from my great-Grand-dad
He was a bit whirly by then,
Running about the hills with all them "dirty girlies" ...

Chorus 1: Blue light ... Skintight ... Limelight ... Uhmm, hold it tight.
Oh my. Catch the ... (show after show) ...
Everyone eventually knows ... it's a floorshow.
Floor Show. Floor Show. Floor Show.

Verse 2: Have you ever been to the floorshow?
Well, here's how I used to imagine it would go ...
There would be no platform. There would be no stage.
There would only be the floor and it was where people let go.

Chorus 2: Blue light ... Skintight ... Limelight ... Hold tight.
Yeah. Feels so right ... Pose after pose.
Everything is eventually exposed ... it's a floorshow.
Floor Show. Floor Show. Floor Show.

Verse 3: Have you ever been to the floorshow?
You have to keep it tight. (Super-structure.)
Let it flow. (Intra-vertical.) Let it all go ...
Let them know it's time for a ... floor show.

Chorus 1 + 2: Blue light ... Skintight ... Limelight ... Uhmm, hold it tight.
Oh my. Catch the ... (show after show) ...
Everyone eventually knows ... it's a floorshow.
Floor Show. Floor Show. Floor Show.

Oh my. Look at ˜em go.

Blue light ... Skintight ... Limelight ... Hold tight.
Yeah. Feels so right ... Pose after pose.
Everything is eventually exposed ... it's a floorshow.
Floor Show. Floor Show. Floor Show.

Oh my. Look at ˜em go.

Instruments: All instrument parts I wrote and recorded to sound specifically like I generated them at home using Cubasis, WaveLab, a Casio a neighbor was tossing out, D's new Fender precision bass, my warped 1972 Cameo guitar (which was refurbished with some high-end pickups in 1995) oh yes, and a boom-box has been "played" to generate the static. Hence the imperfect, distorted and fully unique sounds that my mind is constantly making.

Static levels 1-3 : various hums, hisses, FX.
Static 4 : effect intensity. (has been replaced with a recycled midi file (created from the first 30 seconds of the song) then used rebirth to output the track -- but, it sounded like every other such generated dance track, so I effect-ed and mixed it down so much, all you can hear of it is a reverberation like rain pelting off a big, hollow air-conditioner outside your window.)As the instruments wind out, a second or two of the rebirth track can be heard just to remind you there was a super speedy-dance tempo there the entire time. :-)
Bass 1 : a simple riff that is roughed up every third measure.
Guitar 1: dramatic slaps using no known chords
Keyboard 1 : a dark clime.
Keyboard 2 : a daring, playful riff.
Keyboard 3 : syran effect – drama.
And as many FX and mixdowns as my 16 bit processor could take.

[This message was edited by TonyaKnudsen on 08-16-02 at 06:27 PM.]

answering Seven's mini-interview question from 9/1/2 via some art ...

Radian -- the freezing miscellany left stinging subsequent to creating. Digital Lead, 2002.
from "Floorshow: the Post Modern Dame 2002 Fall Collection"



lexis comportment > lead conductivity > laisser vibre climax penetration

lexis: buff. in bed. alone. manic, often sedate. to write, demons, delusions, truth. this was release, once. requisite = innate.
------a voice emerged. dissolute, not dissimilar. fused with effervescence. fervor. constant evolution. unrelenting fortitude. developing into a communication device: a well-regarded, compelling facility for serial "social-swirling." adept at its job, an affordable and easy-to-manipulate marketing tool ...
------no longer could I ... buff. in bed. alone. write ... nothing of merit. no release. nonsense, ramblings, prophecy. rhyming, line after line, of fucking, base, ˜reeky-ass' poetry. not even interest in Shakespeare or Nostradamus delusions. the pen, once alive, put to rest.

lead: illustrations make visual manifest my cryptic literary coiling. lines and shading. swelling. styling. sultry, nude. laudable. engaging images emerge from the useless, rhythm-riddled ejaculations of an ever more complex coding configuration of tapestry, toil ...
------ drawings etched anywhere, alone or in company, the images from inside go straight to the scanning bed ...
------one environmental pre-req. a compulsive, unremitting stream of turbulent music to pervade the thought-process until the visual comes clean.

laisser vibre: lead images merge with latent sentiment. digitalized. regenerated art of placid come-hither dames. decay. rhetoric mutilation. re-cooperation. release, again and again, until ... no more music is left to play ...
------bringing full-circle audio manipulation. directing vibrations, a powerful and fluid conductivity, known before, only on the dance floor. deaf, buzzing, vibrating secretions. penetrating emissions, take over. limbs, in time, in motion, yet, before the brain processes the score ...
------position of climax: coming in/down on the beat just as it begins/ends/resonates.

Thank you for the question Seven! I knew I was going to call the Post Modern Dame Winter 2002 Collection "Beat." However, I didn't have a notion yet where I would draw my story-lines from ... I think this revised, broken down into eight or nine sentiments and a song will do very well!

Andro, no worries. All my love...

FYI -- I wrote Derrick a bio in inspirators, it's a bit different--any feedback?

The Closer You Are, The More Intense It Is
While adding background material to the DW topic, an allusion in the post reminded me of a sharp-witted day a few years past where I spent some time with Annabella Lwin in Midtown. We found this fine couch in a side lounge on an upper floor of one of those grand hotels. We chatted for hours it seemed on "everything you ever possibly wanted to know" including, quite a bit of dish on McLaren. One of the more rousing interviews in my backlog, at least for me: everything she said was somewhat scandalous (as well as utterly truthful), and, not one word was said with ill-intent, she was just sharing the zaniest moments of her life with me like I'd been erstwhile a girlfriend of hers. And she did not miss a beat. Every ten minutes or so, when a guy in a three-piece came by looking for the "Company Name Here Marketing Conference," she gladly gave them directions. They as clueless to the rock/pop interview between us two lavishly decked out chicks, as we were to their endless parade of Brooks Brothers' attire and closely-trimmed hair cuts.

quote:

---

About Juice - Sound Surf and Skate Magazine, JuiceMagazine.com - The Bow Wow Wow interview (as well as other TonyaKnudsen/AnyaHard "music industry" features, dated 1995-1999) that may appear on these boards were originally published in Juice which (according to Rolling Stone Magazine) is ranked as one of the top ten subculture genre publications to get your band interviewed in or reviewed by. Due to this fact, Juice (published every two months) continues to generate an amazing overflow of damn-"keeping-it-punk", underground, sound, surf and skate content. As a Juice writer and associate editor for a few years, I had some amazing, once-in-a-lifetime experiences. However, most of my original features were chopped considerably, so that Juice could cover the maximum number of bands each issue. Much of the "left-over" unpublished content, can now be reunited with the original articles online. - Juice is currently headquartered in L.A. For reprint and copyright permission, contact the publisher, Terri Craft JuiceSSS@aol.com.

a 40 oz.-----------forever dedicated to J. Bryan Stahel, music editor, ad designer, and great fk'in guy, may you break-in punk rock forever, man.

---

[This message was edited by TonyaKnudsen on 09-27-02 at 11:37 AM.]

-- to incantate. ... resurrect. remake.

not yet on AnyaHard.com/Ladder (so an MBoard, exclusive) -- I wrote Tuesday in my Diary one night, a long, long time ago. The original copy I printed after I typed it (here in NY 1994) after assigning it's designation in the Anthology. That printed copy is glued to the back of a painting from my Spring Post Modern Dame Collection, called "The Ghost of Ego Past". It has always meant a lot to me this poem, its strength. I'm posting it here for HR -- whose diary I read every day (but am not sure if others should post there, so am leaving it here, in my place for her. But I wanted her to know she's not alone -- we all feel like this, once in a Blue Moon, always on a Tuesday.

D2.2.1
tuesday

May? June? April? Tuesday.
Time. Place. Change. Shame.
Days without food, daydreams full of sleep
I don't know how much longer I can manage
To keep it together.
Depraved. Regressing. Approaching anomie.
Too much not anyone, not even Tonya
Anymore.
I've lost all I've gained by wanting more

Realization. Frustration. Pain.
Don't stop, little girl, to look around.
No matter how far you think you may have traveled
No matter how many miles the man says you've come
Don't even think about slowing down.
Because, if you stop to take pride in all you've done
You'll notice nothing has really changed
The rules are always the same
Only now, you've lost your place in the game.

In too deep. Too soon. Alone.
Can't even always trust the ones I have chosen to love.
Use. Abuse. Misuse.
Just so we can all continue to have this much fun.

Time to close my eyes and focus on the picture inside.
In the end,
No, in the beginning,
No, somewhere in time
I will get mine, it's all in the mind.


The Ghost of Ego Past, 2002. Oil on canvas board. 12 x 16. $150.

the Monday morning alarm threatens to ring within the hour ... my mind at rest and in wonder at all the surreal, magnificent and exotic places I've been all weekend - medium to media - "Dutch pumps, glass doors, und blond" - has it really been so long -

I end it thinking about ArtMakers and MBoarders whose images were caught in June by the Remote live cams ... Zazoo, Satori, Andro Genetic, Nurse Randella... this is part of no collection - save your own.

Following that a few cropped inches (from some very large panels I created this weekend) and, of course, the best stuff - is yet to come - New Year's Eve @ the Hooker's Ball.











[This message was edited by TonyaKnudsen on 12-09-02 at 05:54 AM.]

For all of you who want to know where Tonya and I got those 40 year old Playboys, here's the story. (So sorry about the long post but once I started getting into the flow it was hard to stop. I apologize):

Among the strewn tools, almost completed projects, and just plain garbage in the basement of an old house out on Long Island is a 2 foot tall stack of Playboys and Penthouses circa 1969 - 1975. I found them while cleaning the basement (while it was still able to be cleaned) with my dad (while he still lived with my mom). I asked my Dad if he collected them and he said "I guess so" and said nothing after that about them ever again. Yet he didn't throw them out or hide them like some guilty fathers would do. He simply piled them up and left them up on the top shelf along with old paint cans and flash bulbs and my old Jabberjaw lunch box. I didn't really think about them until a few years later when it became all I could think of.

I've never been that close to a Playboy before. I was probably not even 15. I could only gaze at them at the top shelf of the candy store where I would buy my comic books. All I could see was the word "PLAYBOY" with just the head of a girl beneath it, usually with her mouth open.

But here was my opportunity to actually look through an entire Playboy, albeit an old one, but still, who cares? It was Playboy! Let's party!

The problem was (as Tonya can tell you) my mother was and is very controlling. Not abusive mind you, but she would just smother you with caring that she'd end up worrying about you and would need to know where you are, even if it was around the house. She was the parental patrol and she would walk around every part of the house wanting to know where all of the kids were and what they were doing. There was no sneaking it up to my room upstairs, she'd definetly see it (this was confirmed many years later when I was caught bringing up something I shouldn't have had up to my room, but that's another story). I couldn't sneak down after she fell asleep because she never seemed to fall asleep and I was always so tired from school. The only thing was to look at them in the basement and make it seem like you were doing something else.

There was tons of shit in this basement. Among them: a plastic Xmas tree that was older than I was along with just as old ornaments, an old style typewriter, a full size traffic light, old books of authors I never heard of, a bayonet, a jar of (my dad swears by this) poison, a table saw, a mini portable pinball game, my old Mickey Mouse record player, unused bottles of Scotch and Whiskey (some over 50 years old), miscellaneous bar supplies (including a little Johnnie Walker statue, numerous shot glasses, and a pair of Maracas), an old tv that was only good for hooking it up to a gaming system that had the newest version of Pong, and a pool table. The pool table was probably my best bet for distraction. Having made up my mind I took down a few Playboys, set them on the pool table, and rolled the pool bars down the table to simulate a game. Meanwhile, I turned the page.

My mom was never able to catch me looking at them. Looking at them now, the whole situation is laughable. A stupid teenager spending an hour or so in the basement throwing pool balls to simulate playing pool with one hand while jerking off with another. And boy, did my mom remark on how much I must like playing pool, but she never once came down to interrupt me. Nowadays, when I travel back to see my mom I always make sure to snag a couple of issues while I'm downstairs doing some chore for her. The issues that were on display at the party was my first grab. Hey, I'm just helping my mom clean up the house. It's not like she ever used them (at least I hope to high hell she didn't).

As for the pool table, with my dad and I gone, it would just become a regular table for laundry. Now that I think of it, I wonder if this was my mom's way of not having me play so much "pool". I guess I'll never know. Not because my mom's dead or anything, but fuck if I'm going to ask her!

And the lessons that were imprinted on my impressionable brain? First, lesbians rule. Second, Harvey Kurtzman's comic strip "Little Annie Fannie" made me realize just how shitty Mad magazine was without him. Third, the 70's was one fucked up era. How fucked up? In their movie issue (around 1974, I think), they had a special article on the hottest Hollywood Sex Symbol of that year - Elliot Gould.

Chi Chi and Daddy, the New Years party was a blast and I had a great time. Thank you for letti