Saturday, June 10, 2017

Culture has no boundaries: an overview on new works of Dawn Spencer Hurwitz

When we were younger, twenty years ago or so, a silly play with cousins we used to do, when gathered every weekend in grandpa's village house, was chewing crimson rose petals to paint our tongues red! I still remember tea-like metallic taste, fresh dramatic smell, and velvet-like surface of rose petals in my mouth. I clearly recorded the picture of those days, comfortable late-spring sunlight, first cicada chirps over a tall maple in nearby orange farm, juiciness of loquats and smell of grandma's chicken coop.

Although the picture of my cozy rural diary is irrelevant to Gekkou Hanami, the weightless and luminous blossomy-boozy taste immediately surfed me back in those days like the dish of ratatouille shot back Anton Ego - the acerbic food critic in the movie - to his childhood memories. It is a slightly soapy floral green fragrance with a soothing blossom freshened by a touch of yuzu and something I'm afraid to call booze but it gives a beverage-like render, though temporary. Gekkou Hanami's base is ornamented by a tender olibanum and cedar. It's a fragrance of complete relaxing mood like there's absolutely no disturbing thing in entire world; not even a mosquito to buzz!

Totally apart from Japan, Foxy is a provocative animalic tobacco. No panic, it's not what you think. It's in fact a comfortable sweetness of ambergris, oozy dried-apple-like zest of tobacco, and richness of fine oak-reserved bourbon that thickens your voice to the point you can do narrating on Net Geo Wild! And, inevitably, a touch of premium sandalwood. What I like about Foxy is, it's a very practical and wearable animalic fragrance. Most of animalic fragrances from mainstream perfumes sock. Niches try to separate from department stores by everything produced intense, so their animalics smell like circus elephant trainer. Foxy exactly sits in between. It keeps artistic side of animality in harmony with its wearability and versatility.

Become the Shaman is the intriguing one. A fragrance of woody aromatic blood that shows off a set of balsamic tones plus a strange milky vanillic vibe. It opens woody, in a warm way, with a bizarre corn-like old smell reminding body aroma of someone passed miles of tribal migration. Carriages, lanterns, horses, and smell of fertile soil, uncultivated soil. Strange, that I feel so familiarity with this composition. Incense is majority of Become the Shaman. Incense in a light smoky way like odor of the fume merged in curtains. For that the fragrance evokes an ancient aura.

I have not seen a Japanese cherry tree nor sakura. No one told me story of foxes when I was a kid. I even didn't seen foxes around so often. And incense is not a part of my culture. I told these all to give you a clue how foreigner I feel when the topic comes to inspirational muses behind the three fragrances, nevertheless I feel the artist's blow in the vials within my breath. Isn't it perfume's primary role to carry us away and to deliver us a feeling? Dawn Spencer fluently communicates with us with her fragrances.

Carpe Odor!

Ps: the drawing above shows tiny roller sample vials of DSH. I found them very cute to draw ;)
Post a Comment