the shrine

one thing i have almost intuitively done since i was very small was to build altars or shrines in my room.
i used to have a shrine of animals and trolls and clocks, a hamster altar, i drawed lobster altars with crayons, later i had a curt kobain altar when i was eleven, i had one for c.g. jung and one for my experimental pottery sculptures. now i have a little one for a white, old, french horse out of plastic.
i love making things holy. i love the museum. godard once said we (the occidental cultures) are all from the museum. it´s true. although that makes me think of the horrible, colonial history of theft and exploitation throughout the world to get the european museums full. you can´t walk through the louvre without having to puke because of it.
really special altars i unspeakably appreciate are the altars from the "dia de los muertos" (the day of the dead-celebration) in mexiko. they make skulls out of sugar and chocolate and build the coolest, insane, flashy altars with laughing skulls and flowers and cakes and candles and all kinds of nice things.
or the balzac altar of antoine doinel in truffaut´s "the 400 blows", i really love that one too (and uh how i love this film)
(i could only find the film scene in spanish...)


joseph cornell´s wonderous, holy, little bird boxes and shrines are mere, melancholic, delicate beauty all along.
putting something wonderful in a box. i like the boxes.