(2010-04-10 23:15)
17号那天早上发现被偷，19号凌晨又自己把包丢了，感情上又出了问题，大大小小的事都只为证明四个字，
我很倒霉。
至于为什么，我觉得不是运气问题，是我最近精神恍惚的原因。
最近总是喝醉，对感情已经麻木。
心里想着的人，已经面目模糊。无法给予承诺，在一起反而快乐？
成长中，世界终究会逐一展开，面对广博人间，我们既要勇敢探索，也要懂得自我保护，为不使才华浪掷，要身体外化，也要坚持本真，做到内不化，这样的矛盾总是令人困顿。为着实现这样的自我，现在的我应当做些什么？是静观象牙塔循序崩塌，还是自己勇敢走出去？面对当下的体制，我们又应如何尽量超越却不冲撞？
可是我探索得太多，以致于丢失了对幸福的概念。
而我很少提起幸福两字，也不用它，是因为，它也许不过是幻影，却常在生活里被很多人当作真实传送，并用来自我麻醉。
开始说服自己要相信一些什么，丢掉了曾经现实的生活。
逐渐失去了欲望，于是我变得麻木不仁。
安妮宝贝曾说：男人不爱女人。他们只是需要女人。
的确如此。
(2009-01-30 17:44)
(2009-01-01 17:30)
Alexander Wang小档案
◆ 亚历山大·王 () 品牌故事：
国家：美国
创建年代：2004年
产品类别：女装、男装、包包、手袋及配饰
创始人：亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang)
公司总部：美国纽约 关于华裔设计师亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang)： 从老牌的
Jimmy Choo、Anna Sui、Vera Wang、Vivienne Tam 到新晋红人 Derek Lam、Philip
Lim，越来越多华裔设计师在欧美时尚界，特别是美国时尚界大受好评。还不止如此，“华裔设计热”在 Fashion
圈中持续升温，同时，走红设计师也愈发开始低龄化。最近又一个成功典范就是84年出生年仅24岁的亚历山大·王 (Alexander
Wang)，在07年纽约秋冬时装周的亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang) 秀场上，其作品获得不俗反响。 亚历山大·王
(Alexander Wang)
是出生在旧金山的华裔，18岁时搬去纽约，并在著名的Parsons学院攻读设计专业，亚历山大·王二年级时就在 Marc Jacobs 和
Vogue 实习。《Vogue》美国版的“冰女王”安娜·温图尔 (Anna Wintour) 对亚历山大·王 (Alexander
Wang) 很是关照，对他日后在时尚界的发展更有帮助多多，在亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang)
成立了自己的工作室后，安娜·温图尔 (Anna Wintour) 还亲自去他的工作室给他指导。 从04年开始，亚历山大·王
(Alexander Wang) 创建自己的设计师同名品牌，并发布了05年春夏的女装成衣。在亚历山大·王 (Alexander
Wang)
的设计中，对细节的追求是很重要的特色，例如对边沿的处理就非常精细。纽约东区是他的灵感来源之一，玩滑板的年轻人以及他们的女友身上可以找到很多自由精神，亚历山大·王
(Alexander Wang) 喜欢他们的生活方式以及傲然冷漠的态度，并在这种生活态度上得到灵感，设计出自由、不羁的作品。
无论在亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang)
设计的女装还是男装身上，都能感觉到亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang) 对奢华生活的不屑，以及对自身所好的偏执。
除了为这部分年轻人设计服装，亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang) 还为一些时尚贵宾或明星设计服装，例如当红的偶像派
Rachel Bilson、Victoria Traina、Lindsay Lohan、Mandy Moore、Ashlee
Simpson 等，都很亲睐他的服装。 亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang) 07年春夏的女装成衣，即使Tomboy
的形象也隐藏不了那份甜美的性感。上衣通透、柔滑的面料以及宽松款式，配上简洁的短裤和热裙，塑造出女性简约的性感……在亚历山大·王
(Alexander Wang)
的手中，性感就是来得那么自然与简单！而男装将个性自由、不羁表现得更淋漓尽致。纤细贴身的瘦腿裤，隐藏着穿着者的想法，给人琢磨不透，难以靠近的冷漠感，而上装热情的红色搭配又平衡了这种冷漠感。
07 秋冬时装周上，除了亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang) 一贯的简洁风格和对开士米 (Cashmere)
面料的娴熟运用外，还展示了他另一面的设计才能：抓住最新流行点，
并以自己的方式诠释表达。虽然在表现力度上还有欠缺，但是对于如此稚嫩的一张脸设计出来的作品已经不能太过苛求了，亚历山大·王
(Alexander Wang) 的衣服在市场上卖得相当好的事实，也说明了他的设计很符合实际生活中消费者的需求。同样类型的亚历山大·王
(Alexander Wang) 品牌服装，甚至比很多大牌都更受欢迎。
时尚界对于如此年轻的设计师的期待总是最大的，《Vogue》、《ELLE》、《BAZAAR》、《WWD》、《Marie
Claire》、《LUCKY》等各大权威时尚杂志都对亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang)
的作品赞赏有加，对他的成长也充满了信心，毕竟他的时尚之路还很长。
◆ 亚历山大·王 (Alexander Wang) 官方网站：
http://www.alexanderwang.com/
(2008-12-24 21:57)
Long before isms, ologies and
otics. Before the Chicago Bauhaus, Yale, RISD, Cranbrook and Cal
Arts. Before commercial art was called visual communications, the
correspondence school was the principal American academy of art and
an early training ground for American graphic designers. Scores of
advertisements, like the famous "Draw Me!"
matchbook cover,
offered willing aspirants the big chance to earn "$65, $80 and more
a week" in "a pleasant, profitable Art career." Although the ads
often shared space at the back of cheesy pulp magazines with offers
to learn, well, brain surgery at home, they offered a legitimate
way for anyone with a modicum of talent, limited means and an
existing job to train in their spare time for a new profession.
Let's call it the precursor of "distance
learning."
During the late teens and
early twenties, when advertising began a meteoric rise and
commercial artists and letterers were in demand, correspondence
schools were founded to train illustrators and designers. The most
notable included The International Correspondence Schools in
Scranton, Pennsylvania,
Washington School of Art in Washington, D.C., The Lockwood Art
Lessons in Kalamazoo, Michigan, The New York School of Design in
New York City, Art Instruction, Inc. in Minneapolis, Minnesota and
The Frank Holme School of Illustration in Chicago, Illinois. The
leader, however, was The Federal School of Commercial Designing
founded in 1919. The Federal
School's headquarters occupied a
three story high, block long building in Minneapolis; had branch
offices in New York City and Chicago; boasted over seventy-five
advisors and full-time faculty members, was larger than any of the
other schools; claimed over 3000 home study students annually
enrolled and offered "a well-rounded, practical preparation for a
profession" that was recognized by the Home Study Institute and the
Midland National Bank of Minneapolis.
The Federal School issued an
opulent 64-page catalog in 1927 in which it made the
challenge:
"What would you give to be
able to draw professionally? Do you long for the ability to make
splendid pictures, such as you see daily in advertisements,
attractive story illustrations, richly colored magazines covers?"
Profusely illustrated with photos of artists and examples of their
work the Federal School lured prospective students to the practice
of commercial art by invoking the glories of advertising, which the
catalog declared was "the newest art, the youngest great creative
force, in the modern business world."
The Federal correspondence
method ensured students a place in that lucrative world through
"the conscientious individual attention of the Federal faculty"
which included teachers in advertising, fashion and animal
illustration, booklet and catalog construction, general commercial
art and posters. Among the famous faculty; poster designer C.
Matlock Price, "Painter with the Pen" Franklin Booth, Saturday Evening
Post cover artist, Frank E.
Schoonover, and
Good
Housekeeping cover artist and advertising
luminary Coles
Philips, did
national work that commanded the top fees of the day and were
models for the artists of tomorrow.
Hyperbole was invariably
used to attract candidates. The Draw Me! Ads on matchbooks and in
magazines, which began in the 1930s and were continued into the
1960s, promoting Art Instruction Inc., offered "Your big chance.…
An easy-to-try way to win FREE art training!" while the ubiquitous
"Art For Pleasure and Profit" ads published during 1930s through
the 1940s showing an illustration of a smock-clad artist drawing a
scantily clad model promoting the Washington School of Art,
promised that one could "learn to draw at home in spare time" and
make big bucks as a result. The International Correspondence
Schools guaranteed a whopping "366 percent increased income" and a
"1000 percent interest" on the investment made in its Sign
Lettering Course, but this and other come-ons actually masked the
serious nature of the well-rounded courses. In the 1920s and 1930s
resident art schools charged an average of $300 annually as
compared to an average of $75 to $100 for the correspondence school
and entailed anywhere between one and four years of study during
which time students were often unable to earn steady incomes, home
study provided a real service. As the Federal School catalog
boasted "the cost for tuition of such schools will average much
higher than the tuition of the Federal School — to say nothing of
your living expenses." The home study course further offered the
benefit of measuring progress by the student's own ability to
advance. The Washington School of Art proudly noted in its 1928
catalog that "We take great pains with backward students." And the
International Correspondence School's 1929 catalog reassured its
more challenged aspirants: "Don't hesitate to enroll because you
lack an education.… Courses include punctuation and a 25-cent
pocket dictionary will give you the correct spelling of all words
you will likely have occasion to letter." Even women, who were not
encouraged by the resident schools, were singled out as
beneficiaries of a correspondence education: "Yes, you read it
right," declared the Federal School's catalog. "It's true. Woman
are constantly taking a larger place in the modern commercial
world.… Buyers of commercial art will just as readily buy from
women as from men.…"
A standard correspondence
course included a dozen or so text-lessons and workbooks that
taught practical lessons in drawing, composition, lettering,
typography and more. The Federal School and Art Instruction Inc.
both offered a unique twelve lesson course — what they called
"divisions" — presented in a series of surprisingly clear,
entertaining and profusely illustrated booklets, illustrated with
some of the most fashionable and award-winning work of the day.
Each division included step-by-step introductions to a variety of
skills, crafts and analyses, such as Federal's "blocking in" with
pencil and crayon in Division One, lettering — historical and
modern — in Division Four, retouching photographs in Division
Seven, artistic covers and title pages for booklets, catalogs and
circulars in Division Eleven and reproduction methods in Division
Twelve. Schematic diagrams enabled the student to work start work
immediately. And a foreword to each division booklet proposed
methods for studying, such as how to acquire a firm understanding
of the principles, how to do the practice exercises and ultimately
how to prepare the work to be submitted for criticism.
Lesson plan for a drawing
school, located in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Individuality was extolled.
"You are in a class by yourself," asserted the International
Correspondence Schools' 1928 catalog, Show Cards and Signs. "The
instructor attends to you alone; you are encouraged, counseled and
guided at every step." This was accomplished through frequent
reviews of assignments designed to keep the student on a forward
track. Training manuals, workbooks, lesson charts and exercises
were prepared by staff members based on study guidelines
established by the luminary faculty, who were really only nominal
teachers and rarely set foot on the school's premises. An exception
was Frederic
Goudy, who in the
early teens was already a veteran type designer and a lettering
instructor at the Frank Holme School in Chicago, which counted type
designer Oswald
Cooper as one of
its graduates. The average instructor, however, was not famous, but
a skilled boardman, letterer, or advertising artist recruited from
the local art service agencies. These instructors were hired either
full-time or part-time to evaluate the assignments and write the
detailed reports which criticized rendering or conceptual skills;
as a rule they did not develop the curriculum, but could offer
students personal tips through their critiques, such as Federal
instructor and newspaper illustrator C.L. Bartholomew's shortcut
for drying wet paint with the lit end of a cigar. Teachers might be
assigned an exclusive group of students or share them among other
instructors. The student never spoke to or met the instructor, but
mail relationships were nurtured to provide the student with a
mentor. Students were given as much time as necessary to complete a
project or particular phase of instruction. G.H. Lockwood, who
edited The Student's Art Magazine and ran Lockwood's Art Lessons,
personally critiqued all work submitted by his students, such as a
drawing by an aspiring cartoonist to whom he candidly responded:
"First I would entirely eliminate the lettering…it is what I would
call a strictly bum job. The general rendering itself in [sic] so
far ahead of so many of the drawings received at this office that I
haven't the heart to be severe with you, nor the desire either.… My
main criticism on this is in the 'action' or lack of action.… The
sum total of the result is a drawing without power or forcefulness
or attractiveness, for 'action' lends attraction to a composition
better than most any other one thing."
All these programs issued
diplomas to students who completed the course. But if for any
reason the student was "not absolutely and unqualifiedly satisfied
with the results of his or her study, provided written application
for such refund is made within thirty days from the date the
student completes the course in accordance with the rules of the
school," as the Federal School promised, the full tuition would be
refunded. According to the schools' own literature, such instances
were rare because the schools enrolled students found their
calling, as in this testimonial for International Correspondence
School: "Your course has done for me what it will do for any one
else if they enroll and study. I now have my own shop.… The last
week in June and first week in July I made $100…I've had my I.C.S.
diploma framed and feel very proud of it." The vast majority of
these students turned to freelance careers or were absorbed by the
local agencies, sign shops, printers and type shops. With the
notable exception of Oz Cooper I have not found any others as
nationally famous, nor do any of the catalogs tout well-known
alumni.
Correspondence schools were
operating as early as the 1890s, but the 1920s through the 1950s
was its heyday. The Federal School ceased operation in the '50s
around the same time that The Famous Artists School in Westport,
Connecticut was founded, in 1947. The Famous
Artists School began its full page advertising
campaign in national magazines which showed its renown illustration
faculty, including Norman Rockwell, Stevan
Dohanos, Coby
Whitmore, Albert
Dorne and others
(the so-called Westport School of American illustration), sitting
around a table. The Famous Artist School, which focused exclusively
on illustration, had this faculty develop classes, while part-time
instructors reviewed and critiqued the student work. The Famous
Artist School merged with Cortines Learning International in 1981
and still operates today, but the correspondence art school
movement was overshadowed in the late 1960s, replaced today by
distance learning programs as a "direct way of turning [a] liking
for drawing into money."
The New
York School of Design
(2008-12-24 20:53)
“Get Happy!!” poster for
Elvis Costello and the Attractions, 1980
Barney Bubbles has a unique place in British graphic design. Even
more than
Robert Brownjohn, who also died much too soon,
Bubbles feels both known and unknown. If only we could interview
him now we could finally get some answers. Why refuse to sign your
designs when you knew they were so original? Why the repeated
desire for anonymity when your work sometimes includes stylized
self-portraits, a blatant assertion of your presence on equal terms
with your clients, in a way that most of your colleagues in graphic
design would never have dared at the time? Bubbles’ suicide in
1983, at the age of 41, ensured that we will probably never get to
the bottom of it. Only one hesitant interview with him exists,
reluctantly undertaken and published in
The Face two years before his
death.
Colin Fulcher (aka Barney
Bubbles). Photograph by David Wills, 1966
No retrospective article about Bubbles — not that there have
been many — neglects to mention his anonymity (he was born Colin
Fulcher in 1942) and how this has obscured the full extent of his
oeuvre and restricted a proper
appreciation of his work. It makes a nice myth, but it has been
overplayed. Younger post-punk design colleagues such as Neville
Brody, and in particular Malcolm Garrett, have publicly praised him
as an innovator who inspired them, and Bubbles’ key designs of the
New Wave period, from 1977 to 1982, are well known to anyone
familiar with the music scene of the time. But Bubbles had been
around longer than that. I first noticed his name as a teenager in
1971 in issue 38 of the wild underground magazine
Oz, where “the
magnificent Barney Bubbles” is the sole editorial credit (he didn’t
do the
cover). I must have seen it again in my copy of
Hawkwind’s extraordinary folding, hawk-shaped
In Search of Space LP, bought the same year,
though here, too, it wasn’t clear to the uninitiated exactly what
Bubbles did. “Optics/semantics,” it says. Known but unknown.
The design establishment overlooked Bubbles, but this is
hardly surprising. After three years working for the Conran Design
Group he turned his back on the emerging London design biz and
joined the counterculture, swapping Habitat calendars — see the
1966 Design and Art Direction annual, where
he’s still Colin Fulcher — for rock concert lightshows (whence the
bubbles) and record sleeves. Despite the impact of music graphics
as popular culture, as something thrilling you might genuinely
love, this branch of design wasn’t taken seriously by the
profession. Even if the perennially shy and periodically absent
Bubbles had been prepared to talk, which is doubtful, there were
few British design magazines to do it in back then, and profiles
focusing on individuals were rare. That began to change with the
arrival of the monthly
Creative Review in 1980 and the
significance of music graphics — the place where the most exciting
design was clearly happening, if you had half an eye open — could
no longer be ignored.
“Existence is Unhappiness”
fold-out poster from Oz no. 12, 1968
By 1987, Bubbles had been given equal billing as an
influential New Wave designer alongside Brody, Garrett, Peter
Saville and Vaughan Oliver in design historian Catherine
McDermott’s
Street Style:
British Design in the 80s, published by the Design
Council. When we ran a 16-page profile in
Eye in 1992
(now
available online), it seemed the case for his
significance had been made, at least for British readers, and this
was confirmed by his appearance in Richard Hollis’
Graphic Design: A
Concise History (1994). There was still a lingering
sense, though, that somewhere out there must be some amazing
unsigned work that still needed to be tied firmly to the BB
oeuvre.
What Bubbles has lacked is international recognition as an
important designer. How does he fit into the global narrative — or,
more correctly, narratives — of graphic design? Philip Meggs
overlooked him in three editions of his history, and the 2006
posthumous update by Alston Purvis didn’t correct that omission,
though Oliver was finally given a dutiful mention, and
Saville will make a belated appearance in the
fifth edition, now in preparation. The key question that needs to
be answered, if we think Bubbles merits more than local attention
among a nostalgic ageing fanbase, concerns the nature of his
achievement as a designer. Are there aspects of his work that makes
it of enduring wider significance to design history, beyond his
secure position in the history of British rock music, spanning the
hippy counterculture and the New Wave?
Bubbles badly needed a monograph and now, finally, he has one,
Paul Gorman’s
Reasons to be
Cheerful: The Life and Work of Barney Bubbles. Gorman
has pulled off a feat no one else has managed and I wish I liked
the book more. Bitten by the Bubbles bug as a teenage music fan, he
is a journalist and music writer, with an
interest in fashion, and he published an
excellent oral history about the
music press.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t know enough about the history,
culture and practice of graphic design to analyze the visual
aspects of Bubbles’ work with any precision or nuance, or to locate
him with authoritative detail on the maps of British and
international graphic design. The book continually asserts BB’s
brilliance without explaining it convincingly. Gorman has
structured his text as a chronological narrative heavily based on
what Bubbles’ friends such as
David Wills
and
Brian Griffin, and admirers such as Garrett and the
singer
Billy Bragg, have told him. He threads brief, prosaic
descriptions of individual pieces into the biographical story, with
no attempt anywhere at deeper thematic or contextual analysis —
Bubbles’ interest in
concrete
poetry, for instance, is noted in passing but not explored. The
haphazard placement of images in
Reasons to be Cheerful, far from
where they are mentioned, is a pain: the book is not well designed.
My guess, having spoken to Gorman during his research, is that he
sees all this as a strength, a way of connecting with a broader
(less demanding, less design-aware) readership. But Bubbles is
first of all a graphic designer and it is on an understanding of
his designs, rather than on the affection of his fans, that his
reputation must rest.
“Lives” exhibition postcard
for the Arts Council, 1979
In an attempt to establish Bubbles’ greatness,
Reasons to be
Cheerful makes a predictable claim for his work’s status as
art. “Bubbles broke out of the commercial constraints of his given
trade and emerged as a pure artist, one whose silent influence
lingers,” claims Gorman. Peter Saville, who contributes a
self-involved essay about Bubbles, imagines the work plucked from
its context and placed in the white cube of the gallery; there, he
suggests, it would get respect. If Bubbles really shared this view
— “He wanted to be an artist with a capital A, not a graphic
designer,” says Pauline Kennedy, who worked with him — then this is
no different from the envy many designers feel about the freedom
and acclaim enjoyed by fine artists. In the
Face
interview, Bubbles is skeptical about record sleeves as art, yet he
also declares that “commercial design is the highest art form.”
This ambivalence is not unusual among dedicated designers who
bruise themselves on the shackles of the trade, convinced of their
own talent yet painfully aware that the world doesn’t get it.
Gorman shows a few examples of the paintings Bubbles did for
friends in the last years of his life. They use the same motifs
found in his earlier designs: bars, rules, dots, zigzags,
splatters, squiggles, planes of intersecting color, ragged lines
playing against sharp edges. They are good but they are not as
original, measured against other paintings, as his record sleeves
are, measured against other designs. Bubbles had a finely
calibrated graphic sense (it’s present in the paintings, too) just
like a drummer has a natural sense of rhythm, but it needed the
boundaries of the printed rectangle, the tension of a smaller
frame, to concentrate it and make it special. Paintings are big and
ponderous. Surrounded by white space in the gallery, endowed with a
dignity they might not deserve, they make large claims for their
importance. Bubbles — it’s there in his name — is a master
manipulator of fleeting, everyday optics and semantics, to be
absorbed browsing the sleeves in a record shop, or lazing about at
a friend’s house listening to the music. The speed, ephemeral
lightness and disposability of the mass-produced image made it the
perfect medium for his humor, his love of visual games, puzzles,
diagrams and codes, and his delight in marginal devices such as
inexplicable symbols, which add a layer of intrigue to sleeves,
pages and ads that could have been ordinary in someone else’s
hands.
“Hit Me with Your Rhythm
Stick” 7-inch single sleeve for Ian Dury and the Blockheads,
1978
The intricately reflexive nature of his work made Bubbles a
true original in his day. No previous British designer had produced
mass-market graphic communications this playful, personal,
freighted with allusion, or tricksy. Bubbles was a
postmodernist before this new category of
graphic design had been identified and defined, and he is as
significant an innovator as his American contemporary
April Greiman. His designs refer to art history
(Mucha, Lissitzky, Van Doesburg, Kandinsky, Picabia, Mondrian,
Pollock); to popular culture and kitsch (the wallpaper on Ian
Dury’s
Do
It Yourself, the shagpile rug on the Attractions’
Mad About
the Wrong Boy); to graphic processes and the nature of the
printed medium (the color bars on Elvis Costello’s
This Year’s
Model, the scuff marks on
Get Happy!!); and — never letting
us forget his “anonymous” authorship — to the designer himself. Two
of these oblique self-portraits, showing Bubbles’ large nose, are
well known (Costello’s
Armed Forces and Dr Feelgood’s
Fast
Women & Slow Horses), but there are other
graphic faces placed where you wouldn’t expect to find them, such
as the image on the copyright page of the “Lives” exhibition
catalogue (1979) designed for the Arts Council, and the monumental
(block)head in Brian Griffin’s book
Power: British Management in
Focus (1981), which could be intended as cheeky substitutes
for Bubbles’ inevitably absent design credit. When
The Face asked
to photograph him, he made them a picture out of fragments instead.
Barney Bubbles by Barney
Bubbles, 1981
Attempts to hoist Bubbles out of graphic design and claim he
was an artist all along do him a disservice by downplaying his
achievement as a designer, and denigrate design by implying that
anything this good must belong in another category. In reality,
Bubbles’ work, like Greiman’s or Saville’s, revealed what can
sometimes be possible within applied visual communication, in spite
of all the constraints, when a gifted graphic designer finds
imaginative client collaborators willing to allow some space to
experiment. Compare his work with many
classic late 1960s and
pre-New Wave 1970s record covers: usually they are
composed of a single commanding image with the artist’s name and
title. Bubbles’ sleeves are graphic constructions, offering
multiple points of interest, dispersing the viewer’s attention. He
showed that the visual language of design — type, symbol, pattern,
shape, often reassembled in unfamiliar configurations — could be a
powerful, exciting and subtle medium for involving a popular
audience. Although conditions often conspire against such freedoms
now, he is a leading figure within the evolution of intelligently
reflexive design. Known but unknown. It’s about time the slower
moving design history books caught up with him.
Dear Lennon;
How are you
? How are you ?
I have
missed you. I wanted to contact you .I don't want distrb you in ang
way ,I just want to know how you are .
I still
remenber Beaties,Bteatles.....
No
grop of singers does more than you engage the hearts and minds of
young people.
And then. you was gone,and
life seened to stop.
You know. all of the
people wanted to find
you again.
We
love you.
Love
Ono.
We hope
you better and better in heaven .
We are
happy beacuase
of begness.
Yours,Ruin
(2008-09-15 16:51)
我该用什么样的语言来形容他呢？他的角色...
《闪电奇迹》震撼了我...
如此之久...
在那里面，他没有沧桑，有的只是天才的特殊与孤独.....
我喜欢哪个角色，我觉得他前所未有的美丽....美到窒息...
那种不被世人所接受的美。人性被袒露无疑....
(2008-09-15 16:33)
好久以前画的了....
从朋友空间里找出来的...
想不到她还保留着...并且发到空间里...
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