If thousands of years from now our civilization becomes eradicated, much like that of the ancient Egyptians, archaeologists will sift through rock and debris and find artifacts that lead them to the logical conclusion that America had a queen and her name was Oprah. The talk show icon’s legacy will now live on forever thanks in part to sculptor Daniel Edwards, who has recently unveiled his newest piece: “Memories of Sophie and Gracie: A Puppies’ Memorial.”

Edwards created this monument in memory of Oprah’s Cocker Spaniel, Sophie, and Golden Labrador, Gracie, who both passed away this year. Why are the dogs sitting atop her golden head, you ask? Well, Edwards decided to take the road much less traveled in art and place them there for their literal significance: they are always on Oprah’s mind. His message received, I would say. Although Sophie died of natural causes, Oprah’s Labrador died from choking on a ball that she found somewhere within the vastness of the Winfrey estate; Edwards is hoping that his tribute to them will “serve as a reminder to all pet lovers to thoroughly ‘puppy-proof’ their pet’s habitat”. (A public service announcement might have been another helpful way to go about sending this message, but I won’t judge.)

This is not the first time Edwards sculpted a celebrity, or even Oprah for that matter. Back in January, he created a full body bronze sarcophagus of the TV host completely naked (and rather endowed, I might add). Edwards said he created this because he wanted to pay tribute to the closest thing we have in America to a “living deity.” I have always said that a pair of large breasts is a definite sign of godliness. … continue reading

I must admit that in the past, I’ve fancied myself as a bit of a Sylvia Plath expert. I was first introduced to her poetry back in 1998, when I was still in high school. Plath's ex-husband Ted Hughes had just produced Birthday Letters, an award-winning book of poems reflecting on his life with her. My English teacher took advantage of all the accompanying Plath/Hughes retrospectives in the newspapers to introduce us to their story, and to her work.

Like a lot of young women both before and since, I was quickly drawn in to the story of this pretty, intense, intelligent, angry girl, who struggled to reconcile her temper, her creative drive, and her sexual desires with her wish to fit in with the Doris Day–like female role models of the 1950s, as well as her genuine desire to succeed as mother and homemaker. I got hold of her collected letters, I read her journals in the library, I got a friend to lend me The Bell Jar — and I can still remember the first time I read through her famous poem "Daddy," sat on the library floor with the book balanced on my knees. I had asked my English teacher to recite it to me, but he had refused, on the grounds that he didn’t think he could do it justice.

It turns out there was a whole area of Plath’s life I had no idea about, though. Editors Kathleen Connors and Sally Bayley have recently published a book — to coincide with what would have been Plath’s 75th birthday — titled Eye Rhymes: Sylvia Plath’s Art of the Visual.

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Have you ever imagined what San Francisco would look like if it were made entirely of Jell-O? Yeah, me neither. Whose brain a) actually thought of that and b) pulled it off awesomely? That would be one Liz Hickok's:

Though she also works in photography, video, sculpture and installation, Ms. Hickok has garnered significant media attention through the wiggliest and wobbliest of media, Jell-O. A San Francisco–based artist, Hickok chose to explore the city's geological makeup in a very unconventional way: … continue reading