Yes, I am the furthest thing from punk you'll ever see. I skulk around hipster Portland in my JCrew sweaters and Ann Taylor Loft pants the way a punk with a violet Mohawk skulks around Omaha. But followers of the punk philosophy (roughly translated: free thought is critical, modern culture makes free thought nearly impossible) don't skulk and they don't apologize. That's why they both intimidate me and earn my respect. So when I saw this article in yesterday's New York Times, about a photography book by Abby Banks of punk collective house interiors, I felt she'd given me the chance to peak into the living spaces of places I probably won't be invited to otherwise. I'm excited to check out Punk House: Interiors in Anarchy for potential writing material. When I do, the punks I brush shoulders with on the sidewalk most everyday and know next-to-nothing about might become more intimate - I will be able to imagine a living room, a vegan dumpster-diving dinner and perhaps, how they are trying to show who they are on the inside, outside - as are we all.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Posted by Eden From Sweden at 10:16 PM