We all know this gay manual…Swanson, Garbo, Crawford and Dietrich. Check. But recently I came upon a new not new face. Have you seen Gwili? Gwili Andre, peeps. From Denmark. Didn’t last. Bizaare suicide. But the mug! Larry Carr followers make room for face five and add Gwili Andre to your supplement. Let’s google some Gwili…
Gwili Andre (February 4, 1908 – February 5, 1959) was a Danish actress who had a brief career in Hollywood films. Born Gurli Andresen in Copenhagen, Denmark, Andre came to Hollywood in the early 1930s. She appeared in the RKO Studio films, Roar of the Dragon and Secrets of the French Police (both 1932) and began to attract attention for her striking good looks. Her next role in No Other Woman, was not the success the studio expected. Over the next few years she was relegated to supporting roles. Her final role was a minor part in The Falcon’s Brother in 1942. She did not return to the screen, although she spent the rest of her life trying to orchestrate a comeback. As she faced further rejection, she found solace in alcohol. In 1959, on the day after her birthday, she committed suicide in a bizarre fashion. Alone in her apartment in Venice, California, Andre surrounded herself with reams of publicity photographs and press clippings, all of which represented the career she had expected but had not achieved. Setting the paper alight, she allowed herself to be consumed by the fire, sustaining injuries which caused her death. Andre is chiefly recalled as a cautionary example of the indifference of the Hollywood system and the anguish of a person emotionally unable to cope with initial success and promise followed by immediate and irreversible failure.
What am I, new here? Who else did I miss?
Advice to Young Starlettes and Fresh Meat: Give it your best shot but for God’s sake don’t go out there and do a Gwili, ya hear?
No, not a “wheelie”…a GWILI. I said don’t go out there and pull a “Gwili.” It’s not worth it. With a pretty face like that you can do infomercials or trade shows til you’re forty.
LOVE LOVE. Click the pic to read all that Michael Musto writes about it on Papermag.com.
Photo of New York City artist Kenny Kenny by Aria Isadora. Gorge.
said I in the comments …
“Kenny Kenny’s photographic work is worth a huge mention here. His recent work includes a series of self portraits that are inspired, contemporary, intelligent, informed, authentic and, as we used to say with widely dialated pupils every Wednesday night at Bently’s (where’s that coffee table book?) – “MAJOR!”
‘It’s hard enough to get out of bed in the morning let alone make art,’ said the Pop of pop who was also a shutterbug, a nightlife fixture and a transplanted Manhattanite. Helleaux. Kenny Kenny, photographer is out of bed, into high-level hair and make-up and working hard while helping to keep Manhattan’s often eulogized art scene alive.
“Thanks Kenny. You look gorgeous.
See you inside.
(Can I get a drink ticket?)
is no excuse for not posting for weeks and weeks but it happened. If you’d like to remind me to post something in the future or if you would like to request a topic or to ask me anything almost at all – hey – feel free…
auntalice AT gmail DOT com
Let your fingers do the walking and be assured – every email will be read by me or one of my staff. FYI – I like to discuss and blog about things that are; a little tired, really old, a future possibility, completely ridiculous, often underrated and of course those things that are invisible such as music, fragrance and spirits (not the kind that take a water back.) Also, I enjoy blogging about topics that involve the visible spectrum and everything that happens therein. I’m very sorry but I have to request that there be no inquiries regarding the subjects of the ultra-violet nor the infra-red at this time. Things beyond the spectrum will be permitted as topics of inquiry and or suggestions for posts sometime in the future, however at this moment I am unable to care about and therefore blog about colors that nobody can see. note: The topic of fluorescence is fine.
Ok, so, that said, what about Horst P. Horst and his summer beauty shot for Vogue? Have you seen it yet? Are you familiar with Horst P. Horst and Vogue 1939? No? Well you are now…
H. kept this one REAL simple – huh? Blast her with the brightest tungsten ya got and pay no mind to the beat up edge of that box. Inspiring.
Looking back over the past several years of picture making it’s easy to see a pattern of ups and downs in my images, of cools and warms, of dim expressionless faces, formally presented in a mature and careful gray only to be followed by sun-lit periods of young and glowing toothy smiles. My diaries put this emotional see-saw into words – but I find that my pictures are a lot more fun to look at. My God! Could it be…I think it could…I’m only human after all.
Inspiration is a mysterious thing that comes and goes seemingly of it’s own accord. Somehow it magically allows you to work at a higher level. Officially, Inspiration (according to the Greeks – let’s go to source here) descends onto us mere mortals via a direct message (wait, they had twitter? – huh? ) from Apollo or Dionysus (The party God that makes you say, “I’m so drunk and I have the most amazing idea for some art right now”) or via a muse. The muses were sort of like ancient Halstonettes that would appear out of clouds of smoke from invisible smoke machines in order to get your artistic juices flowing. Usually they did this in flowey layered chiffon numbers a la Halston. There were nine of these girls, let’s see, there was Calliope, Terpsichore, then there was…the red headed one, and then blah-badee-blah and the tall one with the nose, and well whoever the rest were they were all totally gorgeous, but the most fabulous and inspiring of all the muses was called Pat Cleveland. That’s it basically it in a nutshell – a little ancient history there for you, kids. But the thing about inspiration is that these days, you never know who is going to let it loose on you. The muse thing is a very equal opportunity type of mystical occupation now-a-days. Example: James. He was trouble, but I have to admit – he really could inspire…
Go for it when it strikes – cause it sure don’t last.