LONDON, Sept 5 (Reuters) - Flames once again licked the historic buildings of Britain’s capital as a wooden replica of 17th century London went up in smoke to mark the 350th anniversary of the Great Fire of London.

The Great Fire began at a baker’s shop in Pudding Lane in the early hours of Sept. 2, 1666, and spread rapidly through the wooden structures of the old city.

It raged for four days, ravaging the parts of the city inside the old Roman wall, but surprisingly, only six deaths were reported.

The old, medieval St Paul’s Cathedral was completely destroyed by the fire, and then rebuilt in its present form following the designs of architect Christopher Wren.

The wooden replica was designed by American artist David Best and built by unemployed young Londoners over several months. The spectacle marked the end of “London’s Burning,” a four-day festival of free art events to mark the anniversary.

(Reporting by Laura Gardner Cuesta; Editing by Stephen Powell/Richard Balmforth)

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With the rise of selfies, the value of autographs has been in decline as they don’t make for great social media posts. But if you are the rare person that still dreams of turning your profile picture into Björk’s scribbled name, you may have to give up on that desire.

During a Reddit AMA on Monday morning, Björk talked about the differences in day-to-day treatment she gets from Icelandic fans and those outside her home country. She’s happy that her compatriots know to leave her alone.

“In iceland we have not much hierarchy and noone is more important than the next one therefore autographs kinda silly,” Björk wrote on the platform. “Here it is matter of self respect, if u want an autograph make one yourself lol.”

Björk was responding to a Reddit user who told her about a time he’d seen her at a bar in Reykjavik, Iceland, and decided not to bother her. “Thanks for leaving me be,” the musician wrote.

She went on to explain the importance of giving her space.

“And i think over all the years people in reykjavik and my fans know that that if they respect my personal life and leave me be w my family and friends i will have more equilibrium and be able to write more songs and give way way way more,” Björk wrote. “So its a win win situation !!!!”

Instead of ever asking Björk for her autograph, watch her recent 360-degree music video for “Stonemilker.”

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A bar in Australia is paying tribute to Gene Wilder, who died last week at the age of 83, with a psychedelic “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory”-esque beef burger.

Bar Luca in Sydney is selling the kaleidoscopic $16 “Beauregard Burger” ― consisting of beef, tomato soup jelly, fries, popping cheese, blueberry onion jam and a special “Wonka sauce” ― as part of its “Wonka Week” until Saturday.

Sat within a multi-colored rainbow milk bun, it looks positively scrumdiddlyumptious. And one lucky diner is guaranteed a mystery prize if they find a golden ticket inside their meal.

It’s the latest in a line of tributes to Wilder, who died of complications from Alzheimer’s disease at his home in Stamford, Connecticut on August 28.

Jason Mecier reimagined the actor in candy form with this sweet portrait, while British rock group Coldplay remembered him with a magical rendition of “Pure Imagination.”

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Reel Big Fish’s “Turn the Radio Off,” the unofficial soundtrack to every SoCal party in the 1990s, turns 20 this year. Lead singer and guitarist Aaron Barrett continues to play packed shows across the world ― all thanks to an ironic twist of fate.

So how exactly did a 20-something Subway sandwich artist from Orange County become a fixture of the ’90s ska-punk scene?

He sold out, of course.

“Sell Out,” a high-octane track on “Turn the Radio Off” that poked fun at nobodies trading in their fast food jobs for record contracts with greedy music mega-corporations, allowed Barrett to pretty much do just that. As their album title pleaded with listeners to turn the radio off, “Sell Out” ironically enjoyed major radio airplay success and unexpectedly thrust them into stardom.

Now, nearly 20 years since third-wave ska reigned supreme on MTV, Barrett sat down The Huffington Post before the band’s show at Brooklyn Bowl this year to talk endless touring, Netflix and, well, getting old(er). Sporting white Doc Martins and his quintessential mutton chops, Barrett certainly hasn’t shed his ’90s persona ― not even close. 

Selling Out

Like the sellout in their iconic single, Barrett worked at a local Subway and lived in his mom’s house before he signed a record deal and was able to rely solely on music for income. 

“You always got that dream, but actually seeing it happen is crazy,” he recalled.

Still, the record deal Barrett eventually signed wasn’t the endless financial gold mine he had been banking on.

“I couldn’t just live off my royalties. Let’s put it that way,” the 41-year-old said, with a guarded smile. “If we were independent, the money could have actually gone to us. But whatever... we have it pretty good.”

Endless Touring

Barrett turned 22 on the band’s first big U.S. tour back in ’96. None of the band’s subsequent albums came close to matching the success of “Turn the Radio Off,” but they quickly developed a cult following and haven’t stopped touring for nearly 20 years.

“I still love playing shows,”  Barrett said. “We’ve made it our job. It’s great.”

This is my life’s work. These songs are my babies.

Barrett’s life continues to revolve around six-week touring sprints, with a few weeks off in December and a month-long break in the spring. But he’s not ready to give up this lifestyle quite yet. And he doesn’t want anyone to feel bad about his demanding tour schedule.

“I’d love to still be playing music when I’m an old man,” Barrett said. “Just maybe not touring as constantly.”

Though a few of the original bandmates drop in for surprise performances from time to time, Barrett doesn’t see a 20th anniversary show with the original “Turn the Radio Off” lineup happening.

“I don’t know if anyone would actually want to go on tour,” he said. “I know Dan [Regan] misses it. Scott [Klopfenstein] misses it sometimes. But everyone else is like ‘I’m done.’ ... Being on the road, it’s hard. It makes you crazy sometimes.”

The Lineup

The band has seen a rotating cast of players, with Barrett as the notable exception.

The lineup on “Turn the Radio Off” was a hodgepodge of musicians Barrett knew from other Orange County ska bands and friends from high school, including Klopfenstein, the group’s original trumpet player, whose surprise appearance at the Brooklyn Bowl show had veteran fans freaking out.

“For most of the people who left the band, it wasn’t hard feelings,” Barrett said, though he added he doesn’t maintain contact with all of the original members. “There’s been times when people in the band didn’t get along though. A lot of fighting, a lot of negativity.”

Most of the former members left the band because they were sick of touring or wanted to start families, or both, but Barrett doesn’t think the procreation ship has sailed for him yet.

“I’m not that old,” he said. “But this is my life’s work. These songs are my babies.”

Barrett did admit that he can be territorial about the band’s direction and sound, which can rock the boat at times.

Being on the road, it’s hard. It makes you crazy sometimes. ... There’s been times when people in the band didn’t get along.

”I guess I’m... what’s the word when you won’t let anyone have a say and you make all the decisions? A dictator?” he says half-jokingly. “But I’m a nice dictator.”

Barrett said the members of the current lineup are “all here for the right reasons.” 

Albums

“’Turn the Radio Off’ is the album everyone knows. It’s going to be really hard to top that,” he admitted.

While that album is certainly Reel Big Fish’s most recognized one, it isn’t Barrett’s favorite.

He calls “Our Live Album Is Better Than Your Live Album” something of “a masterpiece.” The album, a compilation of eight live shows, was the band’s first record released without the backing of a major label.

“I wish I could be that funny in real life,” he said, referencing his onstage banter highlighted in the live album. “Now I just yell funny things.”

After Party Netflix

Though he was never much of the throw-the-TV-out-the-hotel-room-window type, Barrett described a low-key and “boring” post-show routine compared to the first few tours.

“The show is like the highlight of the day. It’s the fun part,” he said. “After that you just kind of want to relax and hang out on the bus.”

The band’s bus is equipped with satellite TV. Most recently, they binge-watched “The Sopranos” gangster television series during their Europe tour.

“We’re the life of the party,” he said. “But not the after party anymore.”

The Future

Barrett recognizes the irony of “Sell Out” being the harbinger of Reel Big Fish’s success.

“A lot of songs are like that ― I’d write it before it would actually happen,” he said. “So I need to write some songs that are like ‘Millions of Dollars Falling From The Sky’ and ‘Someone Get Me A Beach House For Free.’”

But for now, Barrett is content with the way things are. Reel Big Fish hasn’t produced an album with as much mainstream notoriety since “Turn the Radio Off,” yet they continue to amass a growing number of dedicated followers.

“We are so grateful [our fans still] buy or illegally download our music,” he said. “Especially now, in my old age, I appreciate everything I’ve got ― and what I have is the fans.

For a list of Reel Big Fish’s upcoming tour dates, click here.

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When Belle Boggs, a writer and educator living and working in North Carolina, wrote her first short story collection, she included a character undergoing fertility treatment. This was before Boggs and her husband explored in vitro fertilization treatments themselves, so the character, to her, was a symbol of yearning and unfulfilled desires.

“Not only did I get some of the details of treatment wrong, but I also just ― I feel critical when I look back at the portrayal of that character,” Boggs said in an interview with The Huffington Post. “It bothered me when I looked back, the way I included IVF as this example of grasping at something. I was just interested in how I myself ― before I experienced any of these problems on my own ― had just integrated that narrative into my thinking.”

Now, with her book, The Art of Waiting, consisting of connected essays that are both personal and rigorously researched, Boggs hopes to undo some of the myths we uphold about childlessness, fertility treatments, and the desire ― fulfilled or unfulfilled ― to have a family.

The Art of Waiting explores negative portrayals of childless women and families in popular culture (as sinister, resentful). It manages also to delve deeply into the scientific and political processes of IVF, a treatment that’s much more accessible to some communities than it is to others. Boggs gracefully touches on her own brush with infertility, and by sharing stories of those in her support group, she shows that the experience of yearning for children is multifaceted, not so easily whittled down to a harsh stereotype.

Below, Boggs talks about problems of infertility treatment accessibility among LGBT and poor communities, and about individuals who’ve found happiness and meaning in spite of never having the children they once wanted.

What was one of the biggest myths you encountered while writing this book, and while undergoing IVF yourself?

I think there are so many myths and preconceptions and stereotypes that inform all of our thinking, whether we are experiencing infertility or planning to get pregnant, or planning a family in some other way, that it’s hard to just choose one.

I suppose the biggest myth would be the stereotype of the infertility patient. I was familiar with that stereotype from the media, from literature, from being a person in the world. Infertility is so often described as a woman’s problem, and typically an older, privileged woman’s problem. Women who put off having children until it was too late. And that’s really not the case. It’s just as likely to be a male problem as it a female problem. It’s also more likely to affect women with lower levels of education, it’s more likely to affect poorer women and men. That was something I thought about a lot as I researched this book.

I found it heartening that you refer to your and your husband’s infertility as “our” infertility, because it doesn’t place the blame on one individual.

It’s a medical condition that we both experience. And we both went to support group meetings. We both went to every doctor’s appointment. We both spent a great deal of time talking about it, thinking about it, planning how we would approach family-building.

But whenever treatment came up, it was my insurance card that had to be handed. It was my body that was being treated, and that’s just this structural inequality that exists when we think about fertility treatments.

Our finances are joint finances. I’m not trying to say I had to pay for it and he didn’t. But I think the expectation, in heterosexual couples, both being treated with IVF, it’s the woman who’s being treated with IVF, but it’s also very often a problem with sperm quality as it is a problem with egg quality, or a problem with the uterus.

What did you learn about the psychological impact of infertility on men? It’s not discussed as often as what the experience is like for women.

You’re right, it isn’t discussed as much. And to be honest with you, there were not as many men at the support group that I attended, as there were women. I haven’t spent as much time talking to men of reproductive age about [it]. And yet, it is something that does affect men, that affected my husband. One of the people I talked to in the book is Lois Lynch, who is not an infertile person, but a man who is in his 80s now who was sterilized by the state of North Carolina as part of the eugenics program. 

Mr. Lynch was incredibly brave and incredibly open about what his inability to have children meant to him and his wife, and continued to mean to him into his 80s, the grandchildren he didn’t have to spend time with, to help him with things, to go and hear him play music at the VFW.

I don’t mean to compare my situation at all with Mr. Lynch’s situation. This is not a biological fact of his life, this is a crime that was committed against his body when he was a child. But I think I learned more from him ― not only his sorrow, but also the strength that he had, and the growth that he experienced in other areas of his life. He’s very close to his nephew. He’s very involved with music. He experienced post-traumatic growth after coming to terms with what had happened to him.

I’m interested in how not having children and infertility are portrayed both in literature and pop culture. You touch on that a little in your book, from “Macbeth” to “Raising Arizona.” What was the prevalent mood or takeaway from these representations?

Well, I was a high school teacher and a middle school teacher before that, and one of the things that I thought about was just how often the literature that’s part of our canonical curriculum portrays childlessness as a condition that is sometimes negatively connected to the character, saying something about the character.

I really, really love the play “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” and I had this really powerful experience talking about the play with my students who were reading it. It was very interesting, the discussions we had before we saw the play and after we saw the play, about Martha. Her strength and power, her huge presence onstage.

You write about how infertility treatments can be harder to access for people of color and people in the LGBT community. Can you speak to that a little?

Well, an interesting story that was described to me by this amazing woman Candice, who advocates for better coverage of infertility and adoption expenses, told me that she began searching for a donor egg. Candice is African-American and her husband is Italian-American, and she had a very hard time finding a donor egg that would allow the baby that they might’ve conceived to look like a combination of her and her husband. She had a very hard time finding an African-American donor egg. She remembered describing to her support group, she was going to look for a donor egg for a person of color. And, she said that her support group ― she not only felt that all the advertising she saw was not aimed at her, but she even felt that her support group was very uncomfortable with her conundrum. In the end, she adopted a child and was very involved with the birth, and was able to be there for the birth, and has a very happy family-building story.

Studies also show that they need to do a much better job of advertising to everyone. They need to do a better job of making the details of how you access treatment available to people. It’s very hard to tell how much it costs, how you might pay for it. That information is hard to access. And if you don’t know anyone who has also accessed this kind of treatment, then how are you going to know how to access it yourself?

There was another study I describe in the book, about poor women who are experiencing infertility and find it very hard to get referrals to reproductive endocrinologists. The assumption was that they should be trying not to have children. They found themselves with a barrier to access.

Right. It’s even a matter of taking a bus to a more affluent neighborhood, and finding the time during your work day to do that.

If you live in a state with a harsh employment climate, like North Carolina, it’s not necessarily something that you want to share with your boss. Not only is the treatment time-consuming, but the end goal is something that is probably going to take you away from work for an extended period of time. 

When I was first taking treatments, I didn’t tell my boss anything. I was teaching high school in a rural country, and I just arranged my day so that I could leave, get treatment, come back. My memories of that time were that it was very hard and very lonely.

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Throughout the five-season run of “The Wire,” Isiah Whitlock Jr. played Sen. Clay Davis, the notoriously corrupt politician with a propensity for elongated profanity.

By the end of the series, the character could say his catchphrase swear, “Sheeeeeeeee-it,” for uncomfortably long periods of time and viewers would think nothing of it. His ridiculousness so established, it wasn’t surprising when Davis acted like an evil clown.

Whitlock is now using his notoriety from “The Wire” to weigh in on the 2016 presidential election, creating a coin bank modeled after his head that says, “Sheeeeeeeee-it,” whenever money is inserted. “It has to do with our politicians’ love of super PACs and money,” explained Whitlock to The Huffington Post during a phone call. “With the talking coin bank, you can have a super PAC in your own home and keep all the money for yourself.”

The actor claims he specifically predicted Donald Trump’s staying power because the former reality TV star reminded him of Sen. Davis, who seemingly couldn’t be stopped time and again on “The Wire.”

“I would see some of the things he was doing,” said Whitlock. “Some of the stuff kind of resembled Clay Davis from ‘The Wire.’ Some of the things that would come out of his mouth, I said, ‘You know, he’s going to be around for a while. At least until Nov. 8.’”

Whitlock thinks Trump’s flippant attitude toward corruption is especially Davis-esque. “When he was doing the debates and when [the moderators] said he had given money to the Clintons, he said, ‘I give to everybody!’” Whitlock said, laughing. “I thought that that was typical of Clay Davis.”

He also agreed that it wouldn’t be too startling if Trump started using elongated profanity during the upcoming presidential debates. 

But that said, Trump isn’t the only politician that Whitlock finds ridiculous. With more laughter, the actor said in this election he finds himself ...

“with both candidates, sometimes saying, ‘Sheeeeeeeee-it.’”

This money bank follows Whitlock’s prior creation ― a talking bobblehead that similarly said his catchphrase ― and, according to the actor, has some great incentives for fans to purchase one.

“I encourage people to get it because it’s a great way to save,” said Whitlock.
“I’m telling people, ‘Look, if you want to put your kids through college or buy that home or take that vacation, this is the way to do it. It’s a unique way to save, you’ll be saving slowly, but you’ll get there. And you’ll find yourself in prosperity in about ... 30 or 40 years.’”

He burst into laughter again and joked, “Don’t tell anybody that.” 

Watch a few of Sen. Clay Davis’ more memorable swears:

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“I have chosen a surreal art approach to represent my invisible disability, due to the surreal nature of mental illness,” tattoo artist Lindsay Carter expressed in a statement. Carter’s image ― featured on the right, above ― shows a bird whose head is a cage with a giant eyeball protruding from the dreamlike vision. 

“As long as I’ve been consciously aware, I’ve been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and major depressive disorder,” she continued. “Severe episodes can happen for no apparent reason and at that point I cannot help nor snap out of the exaggerated feelings. I subjectively illustrate mental illness as being caged within your own mind.”

Carter is one of five tattoo artists who make up Ink Visible, a collaborative effort to visualize disabilities that, until now, have remained invisible. Each contributing artist has created their own temporary tattoo design, reflecting experiences with disabilities that exist inside the brain and underneath the skin, giving color and shape to the symptoms and experiences that can’t be seen and often remain misunderstood. 

Ink Visible is the brainchild of artist Arianna Warner, who has a chronic pain condition called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy. Because her RSD prevents her from getting permanent tattoos of her own, Warner had the idea to use temporary tattoos as a vehicle through which to communicate what, for so long, seemed incommunicable.

Warner reached out to tattoo artists in the Portland, Oregon, area who were also struggling with disabilities that were too often minimized, overlooked or misconstrued as a result of being invisible. She selected five artists living with vastly different conditions ranging from bruxism, a condition in which you grind, gnash or clench your teeth, to anxiety, depression and diabetes.

For the chosen artists, tattoos had already become a source of catharsis and healing in their lives. “Tattoos can heal people and offer a release, both mentally and physically, for pain and processing for whatever ails ya,” contributing artist Tanya Magdalena explained to Bitch Media. “They can be very healing.” For them, transforming pain into fine lines and bright colors was a familiar and rewarding exercise. 

The Huffington Post reached out to Warner by email to discuss how her personal pain yielded a creative collaboration aiming to change the way we talk about illness, disability and health. 

As a fine artist, what is your relationship to tattoos? 

I think of tattoos as one of many forms of self-expression for a multitude of reasons. Due to my invisible disability, Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, I am not able to get tattooed since that trauma to my body could cause my RSD to spread faster. During a brief remission of sorts, that doctors have not figured out an explanation for, I did get a tattoo representative of my relationship with my grandfather who has since passed from cancer.

How did you first become interested in tattoo culture?

I’ve always been interested in tattoo culture aesthetics, but, since tattoos were not an option for me, I moved my attention elsewhere. Almost two years ago, I reignited my interest in tattoo culture through a different temporary tattoo project named “Temporary (Visible Disability) Tattoo,” [in which] I placed temporary tattoos of the access symbol (the person in the wheelchair) all over my body where my disability affects me. TVDT was a time-based performance piece where, as I continued doing my everyday tasks, the temporary symbols began to wear signifying my disability becoming invisible again. Through this performance, I would hand out different project tattoos that [illustrated] invisible disabilities to everyone who interacted with me or questioned my tattoos.

TVDT inspired me to think about ways to not only have a one-on-one interaction but be able to build a community based in invisible disability experiences using temporary tattoos. My interest in tattoo culture has circled back for me, and, through Ink Visible, I am able to be apart of a community that I never thought I would be able to. I have really enjoyed getting to know all the tattoo artists [who are] part of the project and have felt a part of their tattoo family and community.

Can you talk about your experience with chronic pain? How has art played a role in helping you cope with the illness?

When I was 17 I was diagnosed with RSD, which is a rare chronic nerve condition where nerves send pain signals to your brain even when nothing is wrong. The result is that I am in extreme constant pain all the time. Another component of the disease is that it can spread to other parts of my body. My RSD started the size of a bandaid over my right knee and has now spread to the full length of both legs, my right arm, and it is starting to spread down my left arm. Unfortunately, there is no cure for RSD.

Art has played a huge role in helping me cope with RSD through building community. All of my art practice, in one way or another, is influenced by having RSD. Art has given me a way to safely talk about my experiences in ways I feel comfortable doing so.

What have been some of the struggles associated with living with an invisible condition?

One of the larges struggles I experience living with an invisible disability is having people believe that I experience severe pain 24/7, 365 days a year. Many people, including some doctors, do not take my pain seriously because I am an outgoing, positive person. It is as if people need you to look, sound and act miserable to take you seriously as someone with a chronic illness.

Another change is that, since invisible conditions are not visibly recognizable, it’s difficult to find others with similar experiences. It also doesn’t help that there are serious stigmas attached to many medical illnesses that makes it difficult for people to openly talk about their experiences. 

Was there a specific event or occurrence that inspired the idea of Ink Visible?

After TVDT, I really wanted to bring to light other people’s stories in a respectful and ethically conscious way. I enjoyed working with temporary tattoos as a medium, so tattoo artists seemed like a great community to work with. This also allowed me to be a part of a community that I previously felt isolated from.

How did you select the tattoo artists you wanted to work with?

To find the Portland tattoo artists for Ink Visible, I send out an open call email to all the shops I could find online in the Portland area. I also went to many of the shops in person telling artists about the project and leaving flyers with them in case anyone was interested. I found it was more successful emailing artists because for some of them it was something they hadn’t talked about with their co-workers and maybe weren’t comfortable bringing it up.

What kind of feedback have you received from the project so far?

I have received really positive feedback so far from Ink Visible Portland. I think one of the really powerful components of the project is that, at the public event, all the attendees were provided materials to share their own experience with having an invisible disability if they chose to. All these pages were then compiled into a book that they could bind at the event and go home with lots of other stories from the community.

Ink Visible Portland was a great launching foundation for Ink Visible, [and] I am excited to announce the next city in the coming months. People interested in being updated on the project and what cities Ink Visible will be going next can follow along on Instagram, and online at inkvisible.org.

What do you hope to communicate to viewers?

I hope Ink Visible serves as a platform for people to use art in a similar way that I do: as a safe, insightful way that can contribute to building a community of people who have invisible experiences.

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity. Scroll down for more images of Warner and her Ink Visible projects.

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“Everybody should have a home” is the resounding and incontrovertible message of artist Olek’s recent project “Our Pink House.” If said home is pink, all the better. 

Olek, the world’s reigning queen of all things involving feminism and yarn, is spreading this truth far and wide, with the help of Syrian and Ukrainian refugee women and lots and lots of pink yarn. 

The artist recently outfitted a pink abode in the Swedish community of Avesta with her signature medium ― yarn — creating a bold reminder of how significant a home is to displaced peoples. All the materials were donated, from the building itself to the seemingly infinite spools of pink strings supplied by Red Heart Yarns. 

Most importantly, the public art project could not have come to life without the assistance of the refugee women who volunteered their time, helping to imagine a dream house in the hopes that one day all displaced women would have homes of their own. 

The number of displaced people around the world is currently the highest ever, according to the UN refugee agency. About one percent of the earth’s population is either “an asylum-seeker, internally displaced or a refugee,” and nearly 100,000 asylum applications were filed by unaccompanied or separated children in 2015. 

Olek was in Sweden as part of a collaboration with the Verket museum, for which the artist originally intended to build a traditional Swedish home. And she did, as she explains on Instagram.

“However, when the Syrian and Ukrainian refugees who helped me install my piece started telling me the candid stories of their recent experiences and horrors of their home countries, I decided to blow up my crocheted house to illustrate the current unfortunate situation worldwide where hundreds of thousands of people are displaced,” she writes online. “After I exploded the house I wanted to create a positive ending for them as a symbol of a brighter future for all people, especially the ones who have been displaced against their own wills. Women have the ability to recreate themselves. No matter how low life might bring us, we can get back on our feet and start anew.”

After completing her house in Avesta, Sweden, Olek embarked on another, equally rose-tinted extreme home makeover, this time in Kerava, Finland. Again, the artistic process was enhanced by the stories shared by the refugee women who donated so much of their time and love to creating a symbol of community. 

Olek’s project shows that, even in the most bewildering and heartbreaking of times, there is still hope. By coming together, sharing their struggles, and creating the possibility of a brighter future, the artists behind “Our Pink House” prove that true bravery is peaceful, collaborative, and neon pink. 

“Women have the ability to recreate themselves,” Olek said in her statement. “No matter how low life might bring us, we can get back on our feet and start anew. We can show everybody that women can build houses, women can make homes.” 

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Over the past week, all your favorite celebrities attempted to shed their star status for a second and make the trek to the dystopian desert gathering that is Burning Man. 

Katy Perry, Paris Hilton, Heidi Klum and more traded in their designer duds for the most out-of-this-world outfits probably by Moschino to party and play among the eccentric crowd gathered in Black Rock Desert. 

Check out what they did and wore in the crazy roundup below: 

1. Katy Perry 

2. Paris Hilton  

3. Cara Delevingne 

4. Scott Eastwood

5. Heidi Klum 

6. Karlie Kloss

7. Nina Agdal 

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If integrity is doing the right thing when nobody is watching, I’d like to have a word with the people who thought it would be hilarious to knock over Pedestal Rock in Cape Kiwanda, a beloved Oregon sandstone formation. They were caught on video doing the dastardly deed, which will hopefully lead to their arrest.

And after that, I’d like to be left alone in a room with the 23-year-old gal who thought it was fine and dandy to scribble her graffiti in acrylic paints over rocks in seven national parks. I’m thinking that sentencing her to 200 hours of community service and telling her she can’t visit any national parks during her two-year probation is perhaps not enough. Yeah, “Creepytings” indeed. She even had the audacity to show off her “work” on Instagram, which led to arousing the internet’s ire and her eventual capture by the feds.

I also have some choice words for the vandals who last spring irreparably damaged the carved granite lions guarding the pavilion at Tacoma’s Chinese Reconciliation Park, smashing their mouths and taking the balls carved inside them. Each lion was carved from a solid piece of granite — including the ball of granite in their mouths. “The technique, the craftsmanship, the beauty of it, you cannot attach a price to it,” Lihuang Wung, a city of Tacoma senior planner who is the project manager for the park, told a reporter at the time. Destroyed. Why? Because someone thought it would be fun.

Who are these people who do these things? How can anyone be filled with this much self-absorption, self-entitlement, and have so little respect and so much inconsideration to destroy beautiful things that belong to all of us? This isn’t rape and it isn’t murder. But this is something that is hideous in its own right. It is wanton destruction for the sake of destruction. It is for the self-pleasure of one at the expense of many. 

And it could not be more wrong. Parents and teachers: This is the lesson plan that will shape who we are tomorrow. Let’s get it right.

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UPDATE: Martin’s publisher tells EW that the on-sale dates listed online are “incorrect,” and the “world will know” when a publication date is set.

PREVIOUSLY: Winter is coming after all. Maybe.

According to a listing on Amazon France, George R.R. Martin’s next book in his A Song of Ice and Fire series, The Winds of Winter, is set for release in March 2017.

Praise the old gods and the new!

Image: Tumblr

The news is in no way official, however. Martin hasn’t announced anything on his blog as of now, and as iO9 pointed out, the date could be just a placeholder or even a mistake.

Martin originally planned on finishing the book before the end of 2015 to ensure a release before the “Game of Thrones” Season 6 premiere this year. In a blog post from January, Martin confirmed Winds of Winter would not be finished in time. Season 6 came and went.

One thing in the leaked date’s favor is that the timing makes sense. Entertainment Weekly’s James Hibberd noted that book releases are typically planned far in advance. Plus, March 2017 also puts the book a few months ahead of the “Game of Thrones” Season 7 premiere, which is set to air in Summer 2017.

Here’s hoping. All men must wait until then.

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Olympic gymnast Danell Leyva finished his time in Rio with two silver medals in hand and a viral performance at the Gymnastics Gala online. But the Cuban-American is far from ready to leave the spotlight. 

The 24-year-old Miami native sat down with The Huffington Post to discuss his journey to Olympic glory, why he’s a self-proclaimed feminist and his plans to move to Los Angeles to pursue a career in acting. 

Your gymnastics story had a rocky start. After your first gymnastics lesson at the age of 3, the coach didn’t think you were fit for the sport. What happened? Obviously he was wrong.

I was incredibly hyperactive. My mom in Spanish would say inquieto because I wouldn’t stop moving, ever. Plus on top of that I was very uncoordinated. I was all over the place. So the guy straight up went up to my mom, and he was like “Please, don’t bring him back.” [laughs]

And your mom was a gymnast too, right?  

She was. At first she thought that I wasn’t going to do well in gymnastics. In Cuba they had this system in place, when my mom and my dad were gymnasts, they would look at their body types and see their arms, the arch in their feet, things like that. And by those standards, I would not have been picked to be a gymnast. So my mom was like “Oh, it’s gonna be too hard for him, maybe not,” but my dad, he saw that I had immense amount of heart and love for the sport. So he said, “Maybe we should give it a shot.”

And Yin Alvarez, your stepfather, has been your coach ever since. Is it hard to train with someone who is family?

Not really, just because he was always very fair with everyone. I wasn’t his son in the gym, I was another one of his gymnasts.

But you’re not just any gymnast. You just won two silver medals at the Rio Olympics. You were originally an alternate but then your teammate and friend, John Orozco, re-tore his ACL. Tell me what went through your head when you were called in to replace him. 

It was very, very bittersweet because as you said he’s a friend and a teammate. We’ve known each other for a while, for a long time now. And he’s had a very rough year and a half, for him to make it onto the team was incredible. Everybody was so happy for him, I was so happy for him. And then when he got hurt it was devastating. But I was obviously incredibly honored to be named to the competitive team and knew I had a job to do and I kind of wanted to represent him as well. And I tried to do that in my performance.

It was your performance at the Gymnastics Gala that really caused a stir online. You gave the world a bit of a strip tease. Did you plan it?

I planned that, I was like yea whatever I’m just going to take my top off [laughs]. I didn’t really expect it to be this popular, at all. I think that’s more popular than my actual medal routines. People are like “Oh you’re that guy who danced with his shirt off on top of the parallel bars, nice.”

Another tidbit about you that the internet loves ― which also has nothing to do with your routine, sorry [laughs] ― is that you’re a self-proclaimed feminist.

Yes, absolutely. 100 percent.

It’s so rare to see male Latinos in the public eye use the word “feminist” to describe themselves. 

A lot of people shy away from that word. They’re not scared, they just don’t want to make anyone else upset. But I don’t care. People hear that word and they’re like “Oh, you want women to be better.” No. You’re wrong. We want people to be equal. 

So was there a specific moment or conversation that led you to embrace feminism? 

It was when I realized it was common sense to be a feminist. I think what helped was the fact that I’ve always been surrounded by very powerful women. My mom was the one who got me and my sister out of Cuba, by herself. My sister was 12 and I was a year and a half. We went to Peru, and we weren’t even supposed to stay in Peru for long. But we ended up staying for 6 months, so my mom obviously had to go out and look for work, so we could survive. And my sister, being 12-years-old, was the one taking care of me. 

I think I realized I was a feminist when I saw the contrary ― when I saw people that didn’t have that mentality, that [saw] other people as less. I was like “what are you talking about? Everybody is the same.” 

I realized it was common sense to be a feminist."
Olympic gymnast Danell Leyva

And the Latino community often grapples with machismo at times.

Yea, it sucks because among Hispanics, the machismo is very there. 

So do you think it’s important that more Latino men embrace the term, feminist? 

Yes and the mentality. And [that they] try and help other male Latinos be on that same page.

One final thing I wanted to ask you: Are the rumors that you’re retiring from gymnastics true? 

Not necessarily, not officially. I’m just taking time off from competitive gymnastics but I am going to keep training. For sure I’m going to take the year off. First of all, I’ve never done that, I’ve always done gymnastics. For the past 21 years that’s all I’ve done. So I wanna do something different. I want to switch it up. I want to see what’s out there. I have other aspirations. I have other passions.

Yes, I heard you’re moving to Los Angeles to pursue acting. Why acting?

I’ve always been very attracted to the idea of portraying a different person, becoming a character. I’ve always been very enamored by TV and movies, always. And I’ve always had a huge imagination, so it’s almost like second nature. So that’s why I want to try it and see what’s up. 

By no means am I looking at is as “well I did this, so I can do this easily.” No, I understand it’s gonna take an immense amount of work but I’m ready for it. I want it just as bad as I wanted these medals.  

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

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Some things are cute. (Like kittens.) Some things are macabre. (Like dead kittens.) And some things are so equally perverse and adorable they skirt the apparently very thin line that separates cute and macabre.

Such is the case with Walter Potter’s “The Kittens’ Wedding,” a taxidermic spectacle from the 1890s that consists of more than a dozen dead kittens arranged at a wedding ceremony, fit with a bride, a groom and a whole lot of tiny tuxedoes. The memento mori is currently on view at the Morbid Anatomy Museum in Brooklyn, New York, as part of its “Taxidermy: Art, Science & Immortality” exhibition.

Born in 1835 in Sussex, England, Potter created “The Kittens’ Wedding” over a century ago. It was the last taxidermic tableau he made before his death in 1918, showing 20 kittens, in suits and dresses made by one of his neighbors and his daughter Minnie. Unlike his previous works ― “The Death & Burial of Cock Robin” (1861), “Rabbits’ Village School” (circa 1888) ― “The Kittens’ Wedding” (circa 1890) involved fully-clothed animals, adorned in earrings, boutonnières, and pocket watches.

Potter acquired the feline bodies from a nearby farm, where a number of cats lived and, subsequently, procreated. While most of the birds and rats Potter treated were donated to him by individuals who’d come across their bodies randomly ― and who were familiar with his home museum of curiosities ― most of the kittens came from this farm in Henfield.

“It was customary for cat owners, in those days before the spaying or neutering of cats was widely performed, to keep one of the kittens [from a litter] and destroy the rest,” The Gaurdian wrote. “The proprietors of Henfield farm donated their disposed stock to Potter.”

For those squeamish at the sight of carefully preserved dead animals today, consider how popular taxidermy was in Potter’s lifetime. During the Victorian era, men and women were not only interested in the ins and outs of the natural world, examined via scientific specimens and anatomical renderings, but the intricacies of the life beyond our world. Specifically, death.

In the 1800s, objects known as mementos mori ― a phrase that means, literally, “remember, you must die” ― were used as artistic or symbolic reminders of the fact that death is imminent. From locks of hair worn as jewelry to death masks to post-mortem photography, 19th-century humans rarely shied away from the concept of dying; they stared it directly in the face. And they had to, when epidemics like diphtheria, typhus, measles and cholera could strike families at a moment’s notice. Following in the footsteps of their era’s namesake, Queen Victoria, who mourned her husband Prince Albert’s death for decades, Victorians remained fascinated by death ― openly, and without shame.

Taxidermy, the act of mounting dead animals to be used as scientific models or artistic decor, was just one facet of Victorians’ obsession with death. A practice that, when coupled with anthropomorphic costumes and scenes, connected the deaths of animals to human mortality.

Today, The New York Times regards Potter as “a master of visionary taxidermy.” Joanna Ebenstein, Morbid Anatomy’s co-founder and creative director (as well as the co-author of Walter Potter’s Curious World of Taxidermy), sees him more as a praiseworthy “folk artist who used animals as his medium.”

Whether you interpret Potter’s work as odd or beautiful, it serves as an intriguing remnant of a time when death was boldly discussed, revered and even celebrated. 

“Taxidermy: Art, Science & Immortality featuring Walter Potter’s ‘The Kittens’ Wedding,’” curated by J. D. Powe, is on view from Sept. 1 to Nov. 6, 2016, at Morbid Anatomy Museum.

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Mental illness is nobody’s fault. And because it affects one in five Americans during a given year, we should feel especially free to talk about how mental illness meddles with our everyday lives.

To that end, illustrator Gemma Correll drafted a lineup of comics based on submissions from people dealing with anxiety, depression and other disorders. The result is a roundup of images that remind anyone with a mental illness that they are far from alone.

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Sandra LaMorgese was a holistic practitioner for many years before she lost her wellness clinic in the wake of the Great Recession in 2011. The 60-year-old has worked as a dominatrix ever since.

“If you had told me 10 years ago that I would kick a man straight in the balls wearing six-inch heels, blood-red lipstick, black eye shadow, and false eyelashes, I would have kicked you out of my house,” she said to The Huffington Post.

Now LaMorgese has written a book, Switch: Time for a Change, that’s all about her career transformation. It includes loads of on-the-job stories including descriptions of her first days working in one of the most famous BDSM (bondage, discipline, sadism, and masochism) dungeons in New York City.

To launch the book in style, she scheduled what she called the first-ever all-nude book launch party on Sept. 14, from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. at Bold and Naked Yoga in New York City.

As she put it, nudity will be optional for the press ― but mandatory for all guests.

Huff/Post50 recently sat down with LaMorgese ― who’s also a Huff/Post50 blogger ― to learn more about the book and her life as a dominatrix.

Huff/Post50: What’s your book about and why should people read it?

Sandra: Switch is a book unlike any other, and it has something for everyone. Parts of it are shocking and risqué, and it will definitely push you out of your comfort zone, but, most importantly, it will take you on a journey of self-discovery, honesty and love.

In my memoir, I take readers on a wild ride through a story that begins with struggle and defeat, but ultimately transforms into a tale of fulfillment, success and happiness ― all because of a year I spent working in one of the most famous BDSM dungeons in New York City at 55 years old after losing everything.

In Switch you will read some juicy, jaw-dropping stories, and you will meet a person who faced challenges just like yours ― dreams that looked unattainable, a love life that felt unfulfilling, and a future that seemed full of uncertainty. You will listen in on every epiphany during the difficult times of my transition, and you will witness the amazing metamorphosis that brought me to a place of true success, love and peace.

I hope that by reading Switch, you, too, will find the courage to live authentically and to finally create the life of your dreams. 

Q. Tell us about your “sexuality journey,” as you would call it. What were you like in your 20s and 30s compared to now? How have you evolved?

A. Sex for me in my 20s was strictly physical, and to be honest, not all that satisfying. It wasn’t because my partners were inconsiderate lovers or that I wasn’t curious and enjoyed the physicality of sex. I just lacked the confidence to let go of the shame and guilt from internal and external influences around my sexuality. In my 30s, it wasn’t much better.

I remember sitting around the table with a couple of friends for dinner, and my girlfriend asked me, “So how’s your sex life?” I was mortified that she would ask me such a question in front of a group of friends, so I flippantly answered, “I had sex once in my 20s, got pregnant, and haven’t had sex since.” We all laughed about it, but in essence, this memory makes me realized that even in my late 30s, I still wasn’t comfortable with my sexuality and talking about sex openly.

In my mid-50s, after my divorce, I decided it was time for change and that I was not going to repeat the same old lifelong patterns. I was no longer interested in insecurity, shame and guilt about who I was, who I wanted to become, and my sexual authenticity.

I started trying on new choices by going on dating sites and dating younger men. What I discovered was my sexuality and sexual experiences had very little to do with the physical practice. For me, I learned that the better I felt about myself, the more vulnerable and expressive I could be with a sexual partner. That realization changed everything and made sex so much more fulfilling, encouraging, and enjoyable than ever before.

Q. So you feel sexier now at age 60 than you did as a younger woman?

A. Whenever I’m in a group of young people and they start relentlessly talking about their sex lives, a few will look my way as if to say, “Sorry, we’re not trying to embarrass you. We know you’re old, but we’re young and beautiful and we have sex lives.” My favorite comeback is, “The young may have discovered sex, but the middle-aged and older perfected it.” Silence prevails.

Being sexy isn’t just about physical appearance. If anything, physical appearance has the least to do with being sexy. Sexiness is an attitude ― a confidence and swagger that can only be acquired over a lifetime. There is just something extremely sexy about a confident older person, and at 60-years-old, I’m proud to be one of them.

Q. What’s the biggest misconception about being a dominatrix?

A. At first glance, BDSM may look like an abusive practice that’s only carried out by heartless sadists and victims with low self-worth. Appearances, however, are often misleading, and with BDSM, the misunderstanding is especially profound. In fact, the practice of BDSM involves trust, compassion, love, acceptance, and surrendering control for the good of one’s emotional health.

Whenever the media portrays a dominatrix, she is typically dressed in leather, wearing thigh-high boots and a mean scowl, and covered with tattoos. And while I do wear such garments often in my work, this look and attitude only scratch the surface of the relationship I have with my clients. In addition, a true professional dominatrix never has sex with a client and a true submissive would never expect sexual favors from a mistress. Internet BDSM porn created that misconception.

Costumes, makeup and dungeon settings, aside, what a dominatrix facilitates is an exchange of power and sexual energy. For the most part, it’s not what I’m doing or how I look that’s important ― it’s how I make my client feel, and in the end, those feelings are always positive.

Q. Why did you choose to become a dominatrix later in life?

A. I was a holistic practitioner who lost my award-winning wellness practice in the wake of the Great Recession. I was 55, with no prospects, no financial savings, no family members who would help, and friends who seemed to vanish into thin air. I found myself on my own with no hope in sight. But between the thoughts of despair, worthlessness, and even suicide, a friend jokingly suggested the idea of becoming a professional dominatrix. I laughed at first, but the idea stuck. As a student of empowerment and sexuality, I wanted so badly to “walk the walk” and apply these principles I had studied to my own life, but no matter how hard I tried to talk myself into such a possibility, there was nothing in my reality telling me that it was possible. Who would hire a 55-year-old woman with no experience whatsoever as a dominatrix?

I alternated between excited hope and logical despair. I was also struggling with many negative social influences that told me how wrong I would be to make such a decision. At the same time, I felt that I needed to be true to myself and that the experience could empower me as a woman. I somehow understood that this would set me free from my own judgmental perceptions (formed through social standards) of how a woman should behave and follow the “rules.” I also hoped it might get me back on my feet financially.

After weeks of relentless persuasion, I finally convinced a New York City BDSM dungeon to grant me an in-person interview. I started my dominatrix training three days later, and just like that, the scariest thing I ever did led me into the most empowering experience of my life.

Q. Finally, why did you want to launch your book with a nude party?

A. After spending weeks setting up a book launch and speaking engagement at a Massachusetts Mind Body and Spiritual Health Expo, all of my careful planning was tossed out by the Expo directors, who were afraid of the discomfort it might cause for some attendees.

More specifically, my work was banned in Boston because of my book’s potentially offensive book cover, but I’m out to prove to the world that there is nothing offensive about living your best life through self-expression, personal passion, and sexual authenticity.  

So, I decided to take something negative and turn it into something incredibly positive by collaborating with two visionary women ― naked yoga teacher Monika Werner (from Bold and Naked Yoga in New York City) and erotic artist and performer Joey Kim ― for a truly unique, all-nude book launch party.

I encourage everyone to join us as we make history!

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Periods come with all sorts of inconvenient side effects, but that doesn’t mean we can’t sit back and laugh at them every once in a while. 

Below, Sarah Andersen of Sarah’s Scribbles breaks down some of the more uncomfortable parts of the monthly cycle in doodle form. Perhaps you can relate:

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Nearly 90 years ago, Virginia Woolf published To the Lighthouse, a novel that, among other things, could be read as an exploration of “feminine” habits and goals as serious pursuits worthy of literary analysis.

Today, the book is regularly listed among the best English-language novels of the 20th century (both Time and Modern Library rank it beside Ulysses, Nineteen Eighty-Four and The Great Gatsby). But the messages implicit in Woolf’s work haven’t quite made their way to a few national book review publications, which still regularly eschew women’s literary works.

The 2015 VIDA Count ― a comprehensive look at the gender and racial breakdown of major book reviews ― found that the New York Review of Books covered 75 percent male writers. And its not the only one disregarding gender equity. To comment on this troubling trend, photographer Carrie Schneider endeavored to create a photo series full of women subjects reading women authors.

My hope is that it will in some small way give increased recognition to the influence of women authors, among my creative cohort and beyond.

In the resulting series, “Reading Women,” a woman lounges leisurely at her desk, Gwendolyn Brooks’ Blacks in hand. Another woman curls up barefoot in a leather chair, immersed in To the Lighthouse, a text as influential today as it was upon publication.

“I began making this project to reconcile something I felt was under-recognized: the incredible legacy of the influence of women artists and writers on my generation of creative peers,” Schneider wrote in an email to The Huffington Post. “Inspired, in part, by Linda Nochlin’s 1971 text, ‘Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?’ the work was also inspired by more recent advocacy by folks like the literary group VIDA, and even critic Jerry Saltz, whose tallying reveals some of the mechanisms that determine what art and culture become canonized. Representing women reading women sought to subvert this dominant narrative.”

Although Schneider’s photos show women deep in thought, exploring worlds and perspectives outside their own, she says that the social nature of reading was an integral part of the project.

“I don’t necessarily see reading as a solitary act,” Schneider said. “On a primary level, being engrossed in a text is experiencing the creative or intellectual output of another person. Beyond that, what we read shapes who we are as we encounter others in the world.”

It makes sense, then, that she chose to photograph her friends in their own private spaces, rather than strangers reading in public.

“Showing a friend doing something of her own volition in her own self-defined space was an important starting point of the work,” Schneider said. “I hope it will provoke people to think about what they would read if asked to sit for a portrait like this ― maybe considering which books have influenced their lives. My hope is that it will also in some small way give increased recognition to the influence of women authors, among my creative cohort and beyond.”

Scroll down for more of Schneider’s images.

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When Pamela Adlon first pitched her new show “Better Things” to FX, she possessed a clear idea of what her main character Sam Fox would look like. 

Sam, she said, would look a lot like Adlon herself ― a single mother in her 40s who wears black and rocks bedhead. Sam would not, as Adlon’s already professed in several interviews, “look like a sparkling piece of candy.”

“My friends and I don’t walk around wearing high heels in perfect outfits. We wear jeans and sweatshirts and our hair is messy and we’re just like ... we’re all different colors, shapes and sizes,” Adlon explained in a phone conversation with The Huffington Post. 

“There’s a lot more women in the world,” she added, than the mother figures streaming via Hulu right now. “Not to slam shows that are on TV, but ... yeah, let’s slam some shows that are on TV.”

Adlon neglected to slam those shows by name, but any TV fan can fill in the blanks. “Modern Family.” “The Good Wife.” “Desperate Housewives.” “Weeds.” “Nashville.” Even shows that nix the heels ― like “Parenthood” ― tend to make sure their mothers are pristine-looking, shellacked. As FX’s first comedy series with a solo female lead, “Better Things” was going to show imperfection, roughness around the edges. 

“I like things to feel real. I don’t like them to be feel pushed or too stereotypical or too jokey. I don’t like that kind of stuff,” Adlon said. “I respond to stuff that feels real and relational to my life.”

“Better Things” is semi-autobiographical. Co-created with Louis C.K., Adlon’s longtime collaborator, the show tells the story of Sam Fox, an actor who’s raising her three daughters ― Max (Mikey Madison), Frankie (Hannah Alligood) and Duke (Olivia Edward) ― on her own in Los Angeles, and attempting to have a personal life, too.

A “Better Things” trailer begins with Sam contemplating the kinds of porn she’d enjoy online (”mature lady sex”), transitions to her talking to her youngest daughter about a dad she’s texting (her daughter’s immediate response: “ew”), and cuts to spotlight Sam cleaning, cooking, chasing the family dog and reprimanding her eldest for requesting “clean pot” with no fear of repercussions. (”Honey, these are things are normal,” Sam says, “but you should be ashamed of them.”)

There are whiffs of that mundane, observational comedy she and Louis C.K. are known for, punctuated by cringeworthy moments and gut-splitting deadpan. Also in the “Better Things” trailer: a scene featuring Sam and Max tossing incredulous “what”s at each other, with little context, the former minutely frustrated by the interaction, the latter near tears. A typical, and hilariously banal, exchange between mother and daughter.

In real life, Adlon is also raising three young women as a single mom. “I guess the bones of the story [...] are autobiographical,” Adlon confessed of her new show. “You know, certain things have happened to me and certain things have happened to my daughters or my friends. A lot of the [scenes in the show] are situations that happened to me when I was a young girl, that I was able to put into the girls who play my daughters on the show. It’s very simple, regular, kind of everyday stuff, and I made a show about it.”

Adlon has played versions of “herself” on TV before. There’s Pamela on “Louie” (Adlon also wrote for the show), and Kim from “Lucky Louie,” even “Californication”’s Marcy, all characters that pivot off the kind of dark humor and irrepressible confidence Adlon plays so well. “They’re all me,” she said, to an extent ― though she admits to having less in common with Marcy than the rest. They both curse, she noted, and that’s about it. 

“Me and Sam ― it’s probably the closest to me that I’ve ever played,” she said. “I’m kind of excavating some things that have been dormant inside of me.”

Perhaps because of this closeness between Adlon’s and Sam’s lives, casting for the “Better Things” daughters ― the three actresses that round out this female-led show ― was a challenge. “I think Felicia Fasano, the casting director, watched over 2,000 submissions,” Adlon said. “There had to be something special about each girl. I’m kind of an acting Nazi when it comes to seeing false moments, but I was able to really cultivate this amazing cast of these naturalistic performers.”

For Frankie, the middle child, Adlon was set on a gender-neutral character. That was very important to her, she emphasized. For Duke, the youngest, she just needed “that little old man whose name is Olivia Edward.” And for Max, the oldest, it helps that Mikey looks like she came out of Adlon’s vagina ― as Adlon put it. “People think she’s my daughter.” The three young women channel a similar sort of austere comedy harnessed by the kids of “Louie.”

My friends and I don’t walk around wearing high heels in perfect outfits. We wear jeans and sweatshirts and our hair is messy.

On the phone, Adlon’s voice is certainly that of “Louie”’s Pamela ― even “King of the Hill”’s Bobby, for that matter ― and she does drop the occasional bit of obscenity, a reminder that she’s the driving force behind the TV women we’ve come to love for their dauntless behavior and seething potty mouths. But when asked if she, like her characters, is impervious to embarrassment, eternally comfortable in that squishy place where virtually everyone else feels awkward as hell, she’s quick to offer a solid “no.”

“Oh, god no, I’m the biggest pussy in the world,” she replied. “And I hate confrontation. But there’s something inside of me, that I can’t help myself sometimes. I’ll just say a thing, that really nobody wants to say, just because I can’t help myself. I think it diffuses things and it’s a great kind of coolant when you do it in a way that’s a little bit funny. A little bit dark and a little bit funny.”

“A little bit dark and a little bit funny” seems to be the equation that connects Adlon’s work across TV, that culminates in a show that ― finally ― centers on no one but her. As a TV mom, a label she amplifies to mean anything a real woman with children wants it to mean, she owns the kind of queasy but irresistible reality of ensemble shows like “Casual,” “Togetherness” and “You’re the Worst.”

There are certainly other TV moms breaking the mold today: Rainbow Johnson on “Black-ish,” Jessica Huang on “Off the Boat,” Jane Villanueva on “Jane the Virgin.” But there’s no denying Pamela Adlon’s realism is a feat in itself. And it’s high time both moms and daughters saw their brand of everyday hilarity, stripped of exaggerations and stereotypes, on screen.

”Better Things” premieres Thursday, Sept. 8, on FX.

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This article originally appeared on artnet News.

Try not to be too disappointed.

Robert “3D” del Naja, co-founder of British trip-hop band Massive Attack, has denied that he is the anonymous street artist Banksy, as asserted by journalist Craig Williams last week.

“We are all Banksy,” Del Naja reportedly told the crowd at a concert in his home city of Bristol.

“Rumors of my secret identity are greatly exaggerated,” he told The Daily Mail, paraphrasing Mark Twain. “It would be a good story but sadly not true. Wishful thinking I think.”

“He is a mate as well,” Del Naja added. “He’s been to some of the gigs. It’s purely a matter of logistics and coincidence, nothing more than that.”

In the article, “Banksy: How the World’s Most Elusive ‘Artist’ May in Fact Be ‘Artists,’” Williams offered an alternate theory to the widespread assertion that Banksy’s true name is Robin Gunningham. He pointed out that Banksy works have often appeared at locations where Massive Attack has played concerts, concluding that Del Naja may be directing a group of co-conspirators to create Banksy’s cheeky murals, with their ironic commentary on current events and social issues.

“What if Banksy isn’t the one person everyone thinks he is” asks Williams. “What if Banksy is a group of people who have [been] stenciling different locations both at home and abroad? Such a rich body of work done over a decade, across the globe, may allow for the suggestion.”

Williams marshals various facts to his argument, including Del Naja’s appearance in “Exit Through the Gift Shop” (2010), the Banksy-directed documentary about street artist Thierry Guetta, aka Mr. Brainwash.

He also pointed out that Banksy praised Del Naja, who was a Bristol graffiti artist early on, in a book about the band: “When I was about 10 years old, a kid called 3D was painting the streets hard. 3D quit painting and formed the band Massive Attack, which may have been a good thing for him, but was a big loss for the city.”

Furthermore, he noted that Massive Attack was to play Banksy’s “bemusement park,” Dismaland, before canceling.

Williams himself seemed to concede that his theory seems a bit fanciful, concluding his paper thus after theorizing that the anonymous artist might be a group:

And perhaps, at the head of such a group we have Del Naja. A multi-disciplined artist in front of one the seminal groups in recent British music history, doubling up as the planet’s most revered street artist. Now that would be cool.

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