I adore magazines, always have and possibly to the point of obsession. My tally for February so far stands at 108 issues, at a retail value of $777.80 weighing in at 37.05 kilograms. Sure, there is a major artwork in the pipeline, with magazines being a fundamental element of that project. All magazines are fair game, the broader the range the better. For example, this month I've scanned and pulped Ita (yes really), Vanity Fair, Wallpaper* and Oprah. I've started on a stack of rather cool, and sometimes sexist, 1960s Art Direction magazines and have just finished with The Pigeon Fancier. I'm rather fond of the much maligned
pigeon, learning this week that the reason we don't see baby pigeons, and hence they have no cute factor, is that they leave the nest fully fledged looking like all the others. The youthful ones are easily identified once you know what you're looking for, a few
yellow feathers around the neck. On the topic of magazines, Alana House has written a rather
prescient piece on her blog
House Goes Home about celebrity.
