Andy Warhol (1928-87), Twelve Cadillacs, 1962, Silkscreen ink on canvas, 46 x 42 in. (116.8 x 106.7 cm), Montclair Art Museum purchase; prior bequest of James Turner and Acquisition Fund 1998.9, © 2011 The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York

[via Pop Culture Brain]

The 57th annual Eurovision Song Contest kicks off later this month, and it’s no a secret that a lot of participating nations aspire toward a little American coverage of their perennially campy offerings. But America’s always had a contentious relationship with camp. It’s unfortunate, really, that despite living in a nation where the president now openly endorses gay marriage — albeit with a few caveats — our cultural consciousness remains so camp-ophobic. We are, after all, the people who failed to give Mean Girls an Oscar, John Waters the big budgets of Jerry Bruckheimer, and B*witched a chance at a career here that spanned more than one single.

Perhaps that’s where Eurovision steps in as our forbidden fruit. It’s distant enough that American audiences needn’t feel debased by (or risk identifying with) the camp, but simultaneously, it satisfies our curiosity. It’s not that we have no appetite for camp — it’s that our pop consciousness needs to be tricked into appreciating it. (Hello there, Lady Gaga.) Eurovision, then, is a delightful, drawn-out yet comfortingly foreign opportunity to revel in camp.

On a recent night, I sat through a viewing of all 42 Eurovision 2012 entries. I did this because I wanted to spare you, loyal legion of pop skeptics, from having to endure the seemingly endless parade of low-rent Céline Dion and Julio Iglesias clones that many nations are putting forth this year. There are only a handful of Eurovision entries that espouse the je ne sais quoi of camp so ferociously that they would make Sontag herself go, “Oh, hey girl!” and, as result, possess the potential to become novelty hits in America — a land where non-English songs can only wreak havoc on the Top 40 if they’re curiosities, past precedents including “99 Luftballons” or “The Ketchup Song.” With respect for (and, OK, apologies to) Notes on Camp, I’ve paired eight encouragingly campy Eurovision anthems with the Sontag tenet each embodies.

SAN MARINO

Valentina Monetta — “The Facebook Song”/”The Social Network Song”
“In naïve, or pure, Camp, the essential element is seriousness, a seriousness that fails.”

There is a rule in Eurovision that your lyrics can’t endorse any brands — so for the purposes of the competition, San Marino re-worked its entry as “The Social Network Song.” That failure, combined with a lack of self-awareness, makes Monetta a prime example of Sontag’s description: This is seriousness that fails. You can’t fashion a pop song about the virtues of social media and perform it with a straight face — to do so would be ridiculous. I mean, we’ll just call it here: Monetta gets the Ring Pop-studded tiara for Campiest Eurovision Anthem.

Photo credit: Purple Lemon Photography

If you’ve ever found yourself wanting to “Like” something you saw on the street or wishing that super helpful red Google map marker would just magically pop up over the hot new back alley speakeasy that you can’t find to save your life, then consider this our gift to your overactive, virtually-obsessed imagination. From real world error boxes to an offline file sharing treasure hunt to statement stickers that let you share your opinion about stuff you see on the streets ala your favorite Facebook action, click through to check out our roundup of the street art movement’s answer to your plugged in prayers.

Real world pop-up blocking

Image credit: The Pop-Up City

The Pop-Down Project is a movement originating in France that brings pop-up blocking to real-life advertising via made-to-order red “Close” boxes, just like the ones that you’d click on online. As the creators explain, “On the Internet, getting rid of unsolicited pop-ups is pretty easy: A basic pop-up blocker does the trick. In real life, things are a tad more complicated. On one hand, it is virtually impossible to interact with the old-fashioned media. And on the other hand, it is not in the interest of either billboard operators nor brands to allow passers-by to click their way out of the sacred media exposure.”

Of course, none of this changes the fact that, in our humble opinion, there is only one perfect writer-director for this screenplay: Whit Stillman, whose facility with talky, wealthy, over-educated young characters remains unparalleled. The adaptation might take him a decade or so, but it would totally be worth the wait. [via Collider]

“These portraits show same-sex couples living their lives just as opposite-sex couples do, in their own homes with their children and pets,” Gruppuso writes on Kickstarter. “My hope is that getting to know these couples through these intimate portraits will illustrate that same-sex marriage poses no threat to traditional marriage and that marriage equality is a right worth fighting for.” So, yes. Please send this along to the “opposite-marriage only” person in your life so they can see the faces of these happy, loving couples that are somehow threatening their marriage, and help support Guppouso’s efforts to turn her beautiful body of work into a book by visiting Kickstarter.

Danielle and Anna. Photo credit: Natalie Gruppuso

Drive

Last summer’s critical sensation was perceived as a box-office disappointment, but we weren’t much surprised — in spite of the movie star at its center, Nicolas Winding Refn didn’t exactly make a crowd-pleaser here. What he did make is a dark, brutal, wildly unpredictable slab of nihilistic cinema that is filled with homages and echoes yet is its own fierce, savage beast. With its wild tonal shifts and blood-spattered back half, Drive dances right up to the edge of parody, but miraculously doesn’t cross it. It’s a weird, twisted, memorable bit of B-movie decadence, and its addition today to Netflix Instant means we might not get quite as much work done as we should.

The Drums — “Let’s Go Surfing”

Incongruous as a surf anthem from a bunch of skinny Brooklynites is, there still aren’t many more quintessentially summery songs from the last few years than this. If you didn’t have that whistling part stuck in your head for most of the middle of 2009, we envy you.