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the labcat is the online life of labrys, smith college's art/literary magazine. we collect poems, prose, flash-fiction, letters, diary entries, essays, doodles, paintings, oils, sketches, photography, animation, videos, graphics, chicken-scratches, stippling, charcoal rubbing, pastels, collages, observations, music and whatever else inspires you. send it in bulky bundles to labrys@smith.edu.

Monday, December 10, 2012

vio/miré


with jónsi in mind, support this performer / poet from providence. brendan has lived in northampton and played with parachutes who went on tour with sigur rós in 2008. 

Saturday, December 8, 2012


Jónsi - Tornado

- Emily L.

Hollywood Heroines

For its third year, The New York Times Magazine has created "Hollywood portfolios" in the form of mini-movies. Every year has a different theme, and this year's is Hollywood heroines. I thought it couldn't be more apt for Smith.


If you want to learn more about the inspiration for the video, check out this behind the scenes look: http://6thfloor.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/12/07/hollywood-heroines-behind-the-scenes/ 
I thought it was incredible that they didn't use any special FX at all. The video is directed by Tierney Gearon. 

- Kristen '15

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Today at work

Today at work, I decided to forgo doing my homework and read Anne Carson. It was so much fun! This poem is long but amazing: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178364 -Jackie '14

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

transparency

  

I saw a Lucian Freud exhibit this spring at the National Portrait Gallery in Freud's native London.  I've been recognizing the faces in his visceral portraits in the pre-finals faces of Smithies around campus (which is covered in a London-esque dreary fog, is it not?)


xx,

b

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Depressing Russian Poem

This poem is so cool! The ending reminds me of Guy Fawkes day and T.S. Eliot's 'Hollow Men.' -Jackie '14


Afanásy Fet (1820-1892)


‘When you read these anguished lines’

When you read these anguished lines
Where from heart’s roaring blaze the flames issue,
And passion’s fatal flood swells and climbs,
Do they speak never a word to you?

How to credit it! In the steppe, that night,
When through midnight’s fog premature dawn,
Translucent, lovely, in miraculous light,
For you, out of the darkness, was born,

And beauty to unwilling eyes made plain,
Drawn to those glories that the darkness rive,
How can it be that nothing whispered then:
‘There a man was burned alive’?