my favorite film of the year, by far, is the diving bell and the butterfly (le scaphandre et le papillon). it is a tremendous feat in filmmaking wherein the camera ceaselessly becomes the eye--the sole eye of the debilitated protagonist and the eye of the viewer. it is a mastery of imagery, color, and humor despite the unpredictable challenges that make up life. there is no doubt in my mind why julian schnabel won the award for best director at cannes.
now that we're rapidly approaching the start of a new year, everyone seems to be compiling lists of what they liked best about 2007. a google search for "best of 2007" yielded results ranging from best websites of the year to best blogs of the year. i also stumbled upon a wonderful collection of the lists over at the list-loving website fimoculous. here are some best of lists i enjoyed:
frank bruni's 10 best new [NY] restaurants: 1. momofuku ssam bar 2. soto 3. anthos 4. insieme 5. park avenue winter/spring/summer/autumn 6. resto 7. 15 east 8. allen & delancey 9. pamplona 10. mai house
rex sorgatz's best blogs of 2007 that you (maybe) aren't reading 1. twitter and tumblr 2. ill doctrine 3. vulture--[one of my personal favorites, this is what he writes: New York Magazine is a perplexing contradiction. It is probably the best magazine on the newsstand right now (Wired is the only competition), but it also has an editorial voice that is occasionally annoying in its sense of privilege and entitlement. On its worst days, I call this attitude "Aggressively SoHo" -- as in, it surpassed believing that NYC is the center of the world by declaring the epicenter somewhere south of 14th St. and north of Chambers St. When my bestest friend Melissa (disclaimer!) said she was co-launching this blog (she has since moved onto Rolling Stone), I was worried that this voice would ring through on its cultural coverage. But the opposite has happened -- Vulture has kept the best parts of New York Mag (the nuance, the design, the clever), while leaving the Aggressive SoHo Tude at the door.] 4. smashing telly 5. jezebel 6. snowclones 7. frolix-8: philip k. dick 8. emo+beer=busted career 9. the "blog" of "unnecessary" quotation marks 10. a brief message (this list actually continues on, reaching about 30 blogs, all of which i could not post here, so i leave that up to your questionable curiosity.)
slate's best movies of 2007 1. 4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days 2. the diving bell and the butterfly 3. the host 4. killer of sheep 5. persepolis 6. ratatouille 7. there will be blood
I did a search for something totally unrelated and came upon this poem, "Fear" by Dorianne Laux. We were afraid of everything: earthquakes, strangers, smoke above the canyon, the fire that would come running and eat up our house, the Claymore girls, big-boned, rough, razor blades tucked in their ratted hair. We were terrified
of polio, tuberculosis, being found out, the tent full of boys two blocks over, the kick ball, the asphalt, the pain-filled rocks, the glass-littered canyon, the deep cave gouged in its side, the wheelbarrow crammed with dirty magazines, beer cans, spit-laced butts.
We were afraid of hands, screen doors slammed by angry mothers, abandoned cars, their slumped back seats, the chain-link fence we couldn't climb fast enough, electrical storms, blackouts, girlfights behind the pancake house, Original Sin, sidewalk cracks and the corner crematorium, loose brakes on the handlebars of our bikes. It came alive
behind our eyes: ant mounds, wasp nests, the bird half-eaten on the scratchy grass, chained dogs, the boggy creekbed, the sewer main that fed it, the game where you had to hold your breath until you passed out. We were afraid of being
poor, dumb, yelled at, ignored, invisible as the nuclear dust we were told to wipe from lids before we opened them in the kitchen, the fat roll of meat that slid into the pot, sleep, dreams, the soundless swing of the father's ringed fist, the mother's face turned away, the wet bed, anything red, the slow leak, the stain on the driveway, oily gears soaking in a shallow pan, busted chairs stuffed in the rafters of the neighbor's garage, the Chevy's twisted undersides jacked up on blocks, wrenches left scattered in the dirt.
It was what we knew best, understood least, it whipped through our bodies like fire or sleet. We were lured by the Dumpster behind the liquor store, fissures in the baked earth, the smell of singed hair, the brassy hum of high-tension towers, train tracks, buzzards over a ditch, black widows, the cat with one eye, the red spot on the back of the skirt, the fallout shelter's metal door hinged to the rusty grass, the back way, the wrong path, the night's wide back, the coiled bedsprings of the sister's top bunk, the wheezing, the cousin in the next room tapping on the wall, anything small.
We were afraid of clothesline, curtain rods, the worn hairbrush, the good-for-nothings we were about to become, reform school, the long ride to the ocean on the bus, the man at the back of the bus, the underpass.
We were afraid of fingers of pickleweed crawling over the embankment, the French Kiss, the profound silence of dead fish, burning sand, rotting elastic in the waistbands of our underpants, jellyfish, riptides, eucalyptus bark unraveling, the pink flesh beneath, the stink of seaweed, seagulls landing near our feet, their hateful eyes, their orange-tipped beaks stabbing the sand, the crumbling edge of the continent we stood on, waiting to be saved, the endless, wind-driven waves.
While listening to the beautiful music of Spanish pianist Josu Gallestegui playing over my living room speakers, I stumbled upon this quote posted recently by my boyfriend, and I am in love--with it, with the piano, with lazy Sundays...
When I awake, curled up, coiled up in myself like a cat in winter, like a rocking-chair frame, I lift my head to find my trouser knee drenched with drool. I can be by myself because I"m never lonely, simply alone, living in my heavily populated solitude, a harum-sacrum of infinity and eternity, and Infinity and Eternity seem to take a liking to the likes of me. - Bohumil Hrabal
an image from the yale repertory's staging of sarah ruhl's eurydice
a few days ago, i read sarah ruhl's play eurydice, which is included in a new collection of her plays. the play is remarkable--the first in a long time that i could not stop reading. i am in love with the text, can't stop thinking about it, and had to post a small excerpt. (if you don't know the myth of the two lovers, catch up on orpheus and eurydice this is from the first movement of the piece.
orpheus: i made up a song for you today. eurydice: did you?! o: yup. it's not interesting or not interesting. it just--is. e: will you sing it for me? o: it has too many parts. e: let's go in the water. they start walking, arm in arm, on extensive unseen boardwalks, toward the water. o: wait--remember this melody. he hums a bar of melody. e: i'm bad at remembering melodies. why don't you remember it? o: i have eleven other ones in my head, making for a total of twelve. you have it? e: yes. i think so. o: let's hear it. she sings the melody. she misses a few notes. she's not the best singer in the world. o: pretty good. the rhythm's a little off. here--clap it out. she claps. he claps the rhythmic sequence for her. she tries to imitate. she is still off. e: is that right? o: we'll practice. e: i don't need to know about rhythm. i have my books. o: don't books have rhythm? e: kind of. let's go in the water. o: will you remember my melody under the water? e: yes! I WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER YOUR MELODY! It will be imprinted on my heart like wax. o: thank you. e: you're welcome. when are you going to play me the whole song? o: when i get twelve instruments. e: when are you going to get twelve instruments? o: i'm going to make each strand of your hair into an instrument. your hair will stand on end as it plays my music and become a hair orchestra. it will fly you up into the sky. e: i don't know if i want to be an instrument. o: why? e: won't i fall down when the song ends? o: that's true. but the clouds will be so moved by your music that they will fill up with water until they become heavy and you'll sit on one and fall gently down to earth. how about that? e: okay. they stop walking for a moment. they gaze at each other. o: it's settled then. e: what is? o: your hair will be my orchestra and--i love you.
i found this image of duane michals' on shane's blog and i love it.
This photograph is my proof. There was that afternoon, when things were still good between us, and she embraced me, and we were so happy. It did happen, she did love me. Look see for yourself!
The Panic in Needle Park is Al Pacino's second film. He is young and absolutely incredible in it. The story was also adapted for the screen by Joan Didion and her late husband, John Gregory Dunne--their first screenplay.
wow! this is my most exciting discovery in awhile! via this french blog, i stumbled upon a post telling of a book of polaroids taken by the famed russian director, andrei tarkovsky. if you haven't seen his films, you should. i'm still working my way through them, but the last one i recalling seeing was nostalgia and it was beautiful.
anyway, the book of polaroids is called instant light, and it contains polaroids taken by tarkovsky taken in russia and italy, with captions written by his son, which i found online here.
My mother, Larissa Tarkovsky, and Dak in Myasnoye. You may find a lot of similarities of these pictures with Gorkachov's dreams in Nostalgia.
This is me and Dak in Vorobievi Gori, a park in Moscow, where we used to walk with my father.
This is the annual procession dedicated to San Gregorio, the patron saint of the city in Italy.
This is in Myasnoye, Russia, where my family had a holiday home.
My mother in the dining room of our Moscow apartment.
This is my father's boat near our house in Myasnoye. He was greatly attached to that place, where he could isolate himself and work on his scripts - the first drafts of Stalker and The Sacrifice were written there. He used to take long walks and these pictures are the memories of those promenades.
i stumbled upon martine fougeron's tête à tête series, which she describes as "intimate portraits of two adolescent sons", via conscientious.
i can't help liking these images, even if i don't absolutely love them or find them infinitely interesting. they remind me of noah baumbach's style--his preoccupation with a new york upbringing and the hyper-maturation of these youths. (read the ny times on margot at the wedding--i felt the same way about this film as i do these images, i can't help enjoying the performances and being drawn to the characters, but the story doesn't achieve great heights.)
i also love this image--the delicacy of the face, innocent and feminine, framed in water.
we don't know how to say goodbye: we wander on, shoulder to shoulder. already the sun is going down; you're moody, i am your shadow.
let's step inside a church and watch baptisms, marriages, masses for the dead. why are we different from the rest? outdoors again, each of us turns his head.
or else let's sit in the graveyard on the trampled snow, sighing to each other. that stick in your hand is tracing mansions in which we shall always be together.
-1917
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Мы не умеем прощаться,- Всё бродим плечо к плечу. Уже начинает смеркаться, Ты задумчив, а я молчу.
В церковь войдем, увидим Отпеванье, крестины, брак, Не взглянув друг на друга, выйдем... Отчего всё у нас не так?
Или сядем на снег примятый На кладбище, легко вздохнем, И ты палкой чертишь палаты, Где мы будем всегда вдвоем.
i saw this on lux lotus and enjoyed it. how cute is this french girl? i thought she was icelandic at first, because i can't understand what the fuck she's saying when she professes the title words, but resorted to googling her and discovered that she's french.
just stumbled upon this passage by calvin trillin, arguing for the replacement of spaghetti carbonara as the national thanksgiving dish. doesn't sound so bad, does it? (according to nymag, this place has the best carbonara in the city.) ed levine mentioned trillin's idea after suggesting to serve a bacon-wrapped turkey at his holiday table. i know wrapping practically everything in bacon is the IT thing in food these days (didn't padma, herself, declare this fact--give her anything wrapped in bacon and you are spared the ominous "pack your knives and go"?)--however, bacon-wrapped turkey? eh. i just heard from a friend who spent the holiday with a bunch of southerners in northern florida that they supped on fried turkey. can you imagine? a 20-something-pound turkey being dunked in a vat of hot oil? honestly, i'm voting for spaghetti thanksgivings from here on out.
p.s. speaking of spaghetti, i had pasta for the first time today at los angeles' angelini osteria. i ordered tagliolini with shrimp and asparagus and, after having stayed away from my favorite food group for approximately 6 weeks, it tasted better than ever.
Yesterday evening, I spent a few hours at my delightful neighborhood teashop, Sympathy For the Kettle, in order to fend off the distraction that comes along with being at home and to get some reading done. Since i am on a coffee/black tea-free diet currently, the Kettle is perfect place for me since they offer a wide selection of herbal teas. I ordered a Vanilla Rooibos tea, which I first became familiar with while in Prague. Rooibos is essentially like black tea in flavor, however it is more like red tea, and both caffeine-free and herbal. It's grown only in a certain region in South Africa and in Prague I was told that it stimulates life and healthy living.
So, I sat down for a couple of hours of somewhat successful reading. At first I was pleasantly accompanied by a quiet mother and daughter chess match over at the table closest to me, which helped stimulate my work. However, as soon as they left, my progress was halted as a pair of young lovers on what appeared to be a second date sat down next to me and chatted incessantly about where they had traveled to and graduated from and yada yada yada. They were so googly-eyed over one another. They hardly noticed that I was obviously plugging my ears in order to save myself from their conversational nonsense. Usually, I think that the Kettle is a great way to spend an enjoyable evening...what more could you want? Tea, pastries, and a wealthy stock of board games like Scrabble and chess.
Oh yeah, I forgot to expand on the best part: the pastries. I persistently return to the Kettle in search of their Bergamot Cupcakes topped with Lavendar Icing (Bergamot is a citrus fruit whose power plays prominently in Earl Grey tea). These are my favorite cupcakes ever--Red Velvet Shmelvet. But, better yet, last night I saw a nice, crusty little pie sitting atop the counter that looked like it could be made of blackberries, but I was surprised to find out that it was made of delicious Concord grapes, which are now in season. The pie was remarkable--not too crusty, a lot of naturally sweet grape jam, and small enough so that it leaves you wanting more. Uh, I might have to return this afternoon to have another slice as long as they haven't sold out.
There's a new and notable restaurant in the East Village that i tried out for myself this past weekend. it's called Back Forty and it rests on Avenue B between 11th and 12th streets. Although the decor is distinguishedly modern and clean for the neighborhood, the air of the restaurant is not the slightest bit pretentious and the simple, comfort food-filled menu confirms this. Although I was dying to try the Maine-bacon-and-shrimp-beignets, my detox diet prevented me from doing so. However, I did get to sample my friend's Grass-fed Burger with Farmhouse Cheddar and homemade ketchup, and it was remarkable. After having stayed away from beef for a few weeks, I was miraculously satisfied with my two small bites of this burger. I opted for the Whole Grilled Catskill Trout, which was lean, flavorful, and appeared to be a house favorite (I saw it served to almost every table.) Although tempted by the dessert list, which includes Apple Cider Doughnuts and a Root Beer Float. On the other hand, we did indulge with cocktails--I had the Concord fizz (which reminds me of a similar favorite of mine from Freeman's, the Cuzco Fizz--also featuring muddled grapes) and my friend sampled the strong but sweet Grapefruit Julep.
All and all, I was more than satisfied with my outing to this new neighborhood locale and would love to return, hopefully soon before the word spreads and a queue starts emerging at the door.
You can also read recent reviews on Back forty on Eater and NYMag, and sample the menu for yourself here.
Back Forty 190 Avenue B (11th & 12th) 212-388-1990
has everyone already become familiar with this ridiculously obscene post by some ho on craigslist? if not, get yourself familiarized, below:
The Post:
What am I doing wrong? Okay, I'm tired of beating around the bush. I'm a beautiful (spectacularly beautiful) 25 year old girl. I'm articulate and classy. I'm not from New York. I'm looking to get married to a guy who makes at least half a million a year. I know how that sounds, but keep in mind that a million a year is middle class in New York City, so I don't think I'm overreaching at all. Are there any guys who make 500K or more on this board? Any wives? Could you send me some tips? I dated a business man who makes average around 200 - 250. But that's where I seem to hit a roadblock. 250,000 won't get me to central park west. I know a woman in my yoga class who was married to an investment banker and lives in Tribeca, and she's not as pretty as I am, nor is she a great genius. So what is she doing right? How do I get to her level? Here are my questions specifically: - Where do you single rich men hang out? Give me specifics- bars, restaurants, gyms -What are you looking for in a mate? Be honest guys, you won't hurt my feelings -Is there an age range I should be targeting (I'm 25)? - Why are some of the women living lavish lifestyles on the upper east side so plain? I've seen really 'plain jane' boring types who have nothing to offer married to incredibly wealthy guys. I've seen drop dead gorgeous girls in singles bars in the east village. What's the story there? - Jobs I should look out for? Everyone knows - lawyer, investment banker, doctor. How much do those guys really make? And where do they hang out? Where do the hedge fund guys hang out? - How you decide marriage vs. just a girlfriend? I am looking for MARRIAGE ONLY Please hold your insults - I'm putting myself out there in an honest way. Most beautiful women are superficial; at least I'm being up front about it. I wouldn't be searching for these kind of guys if I wasn't able to match them - in looks, culture, sophistication, and keeping a nice home and hearth.
The Response:
I read your posting with great interest and have thought meaningfully about your dilemma. I offer the following analysis of your predicament. Firstly, I'm not wasting your time, I qualify as a guy who fits your bill; that is I make more than $500K per year. That said here's how I see it. Your offer, from the prospective of a guy like me, is plain and simple a crappy business deal. Here's why. Cutting through all the B.S., what you suggest is a simple trade: you bring your looks to the party and I bring my money. Fine, simple. But here's the rub, your looks will fade and my money will likely continue into perpetuity...in fact, it is very likely that my income increases but it is an absolute certainty that you won't be getting any more beautiful! So, in economic terms you are a depreciating asset and I am an earning asset. Not only are you a depreciating asset, your depreciation accelerates! Let me explain, you're 25 now and will likely stay pretty hot for the next 5 years, but less so each year. Then the fade begins in earnest. By 35 stick a fork in you! So in Wall Street terms, we would call you a trading position, not a buy and hold...hence the rub...marriage. It doesn't make good business sense to "buy you" (which is what you're asking) so I'd rather lease. In case you think I'm being cruel, I would say the following. If my money were to go away, so would you, so when your beauty fades I need an out. It's as simple as that. So a deal that makes sense is dating, not marriage. Separately, I was taught early in my career about efficient markets. So, I wonder why a girl as "articulate, classy and spectacularly beautiful" as you has been unable to find your sugar daddy. I find it hard to believe that if you are as gorgeous as you say you are that the $500K hasn't found you, if not only for a tryout. By the way, you could always find a way to make your own money and then we wouldn't need to have this difficult conversation. With all that said, I must say you're going about it the right way. Classic "pump and dump." I hope this is helpful, and if you want to enter into some sort of lease, let me know.
although i must admit that i sometimes cannot help but indulge in the sartorialist, tonight it was introduced to my new favorite guilty pleasure: the brotorialist. um--awesome.
i've recently fallen in love with candles. or, at least, placing nice candles all over my apartment. although it may seem like a frivolous obsession to some, i strongly feel otherwise. a well-placed candle is like a little perk to having a well-kept apartment. it's a little treat that you don't need that will, in fact, add that certain je ne sais quoi to your home.
this small obsession began when i discovered voluspa candles. i am in love with this company. have you heard of them? first of all, what distinguishes these candles is their wax, which is formulated through a combination of several different waxes and comes out soft and moist, as opposed to most hard wax candles. seriously, if you graze your finger atop a volupsa candle, it feels almost like hand moisturizer. this wax is also extremely long lasting, in some candles yielding as much as an 85 hour burn.
the second reason i fell in love with voluspa (and candle culture) is their price! these candles are actually affordable. unlike other luxury candle brands like votivo candles or diptyque, which run from $27 to $57, the average volupsa candle ranges from $8 to $20. and the cheaper ones are in beautifully decorated tins and burn for 45 hours, so they're not some cheapo, flimsy candles either. the $20 ones are larger, glass candlepots that are classy looking and burn for 85 hours.
looking around my room, i have 7 different voluspas: sake lemon flower, vintage tobacco vanille, yashioka gardenia, santiago huckleberry, baltic amber, french cade & lavender, yuzu rose bubble bath. although i haven't opened all of them, so far my favorite is the yashioka gardenia, which is very soft scent, but nicely takes the place of the fresh bouquet of flowers i only wish i could maintain in my bedroom. plus, i'm a sucker for gardenias. that's why i've worn this scent since it first came out.
so, where can you get your own luxurious collection of voluspas? well, at first i could only find them in a few stores around l.a. and was completely unsuccessful in stumbling upon them in new york. however, it only took me a few minutes on the company's website to brand myself an idiot when i saw, thanks to the store locater, that a gift shop called exit9 on avenue a and 4th (literally TWO AND A HALF BLOCKS AWAY FROM ME), sells them. hmph. well, at least you all don't have to make a mass candle exodus out to l.a.
a week ago, i saw the wooster group's multi-media production of hamlet at the public theater. the wildly inventive, somewhat pedagogical piece is mainly based on richard burton's 1964 production of the play, which was filmed and then screen for 2 days in theaters across the country. with the burton production projected onto a screen at the back of the stage simultaneous with the present production, the cast imitates, mimics, and sometimes even fast forwards through the performance set behind them. occasionally, other versions of the famous show pop up on the screen as well.
the cast is hard-working and exceptional at bringing this challenging rendition of the play to life. and i emphasize the word "challenging", because that is really what this production is. its a detached production of a very well-known tragedy. in fact, as the picture above denotes, the play doesn't seem to be much about the play at all. instead, the focus seems more aimed towards the effects of performance and the challenges that time and technology present to performance.
so, try to see it at the public theater if you're in for some tough theater. its difficult material to watch and to analyze, but it's also a difficult three hours long. it runs until november 18th at the public theater on lafayette and astor place.
a fellini-esque moment starring cate blanchett in todd haynes' i'm not there
when i was oh-so-sweetly asked by my boyfriend this morning to continue keeping up with my blog, i decided that he was right--it was time to get back into the habit. so, back my outrageous, roaring popular demand, is the fifth day of may, my pristine lil bloggie.
so, first thing's first, if you haven't read robert sullivan's story on todd haynes' i'm not there, "this is not a bob dylan movie", please do so now. because it's amazing. and after that, you can buy tickets to the film, which comes out out november 21st only at film forum. i already have tickets!
via a great new photo blog i stumbled upon, called i heart photograph, i found the following three photos by swiss photographer adrian sonderegger. i heart them.
Unfortunately, I rarely blog anymore because I barely find enough time to intake cultural information, so it makes it almost impossible to quickly output it. However, I found the below commercial/short film by Wong Kar-Wai for Phillips Aurea incredibly compelling and had to post it. The musical combination of Russian and French is wonderful to listen to and the images are beautiful. Having done no research whatsoever on this piece, I must admit that I still have no clue what this is. (For those of you who know my "What is it?" feelings about lasagna, they are somewhat comparable here.)
my desire to post about restaurants i eat out grossly outweighs my actual ability to create these posts. thus, i will combine the pleasure of several weeks of delicious dining into one post.
thanks to the glorious occasion of a friend's birthday this past week, i got to dine at tom colicchio's eminent craft. not craftbar (which is also AM-azing), neither craftsteak, nor 'wichcraft (where i recently had the gruyere with caramelized onions--which is the sandwich version of french onion soup, and the BLT with my favourite heirloom tomatoes--both DE-licious), but the end-all-be-all CRAFT. luckily, the service was family-style, meaning i got to taste a little bit of everything. i won't go into extreme detail about everything we ate, but i'll just give you a taste of a few of my favorites: the berkshire pork shoulder with tomatillo sauce was tender, fatty, and delicious. the braised beef short rib with root vegetables was hearty and winter-y. the sugar snap peas were by far my favorite--sweet and perfect! the pureed (baby food) potatoes were hard not to like. i could go on to explain the salads (including an heirloom tomato and basil!!) and side dishes, but it would be a waste of space, because what really blew me away were the desserts. my favorite course by far. we got a banquet-like selection of desserts. the most memorable to me were: a selection of sorbets (including white peach prosecco, ruby grapefruit, cream (?), and espresso), a lemon cake accompanied by blackberries topped with chopped pistachios, mini doughnuts dipped in your choice of creamy caramel or chocolate sauce, a brown butter plum cake, a chocolate souffle, and a sheep's milk panna cotta served with raspberries. i would go there again just for dessert. it was remarkable.
i have also visited the lower east side's alias on more than one occasion in recent weeks. both times were excellent, not only because of the delicious, new southern-style with a local edge cooking, but because of the cool, intimate atmosphere (and a lovely weekend waiter there named joey!) the grilled sweet corn and summer squash salad there is great and is served looking a bit like ratatouille, which is fun. last time i was there i had a pulled pork taco with apricot mustard and green cabbage (!) and the time before i had the roasted hanger steak. both were delicious, but what really looks good that i'm going to try next time is the half rack st louis style BBQ ribs served with cole slaw and jumbo fried onion rings. MMMMMM!
i also had one great neighborhood dining night where i started at momofuku with pork buns and roasted shrimp over sweet summer corn with miso butter and bacon, and later moved around the corner to the dessert bar chikalicious, where for a $12 prix fixe, i got an amuse-bouche, a "main course" of vanilla bean and white peach ice cream served with a fluffy cinnamon cake, and a few petit-fours to top it all off. i wish i could write more about the experience, but it was too good for words. just now i was bouncing in my seat the entire time we were there.
so, that's about all for now. eat at those places and maybe soon i will reveal more.
Despite all my running around in the past week, I got to somewhat catch up with fashion week courtesy of Geometric Sleep. These are some favorite looks I found on there. The entire collections can be seen on style.com.
Come join us tomorrow night from 6-8PM at the jen bekman gallery over in NoLiTa for the opening reception of the Hey, Hot Shot! Summer Edition Showcase. The gallery will be packed with the work of 10 fresh and diverse photographers who you can read more about on the competition's blog.
Jen Bekman 6 Spring Street Btwn Bowery and Elizabeth
so i've been neglecting the blog for about 2 weeks now. that's because i just started my final semester in school and have been busier than usual. part of why i haven't been posting is because my new schedule that forces me to be up by 9:30 most mornings, has also radically changed my sleeping schedule, meaning i toss and turn all night, anxious of missing my alarm, and consequently find myself dozing off by or before midnight on most evenings. anyway, my classes are really cool. this is what i'm taking:
stonestreet studios professional training workshop in film and television acting
theatrical genres: staging the "other scene" freud, lacan, and the psychoanalysis of performance"
the literature of journalism: the best of the best
so, now you know what i'm keeping busy with when i'm not blogging.
From House series, Providence, Rhode Island, 1976 by Francesca Woodman
A person, scattered in space and time, is no longer a woman but a series of events on which we can throw no light, a series of insoluble problems. - Marcel Proust, La Prisonniere (1923)
I spent the bulk of last night sifting through and reading the essays in my Phaidon-published monograph on the young visionary photographer, Francesca Woodman.
It's difficult to speak of her after ingesting so much text that strives to dissect her work and persona, but there are a few words that are thrown around enough that can describe her work: gothic, haunting, surreal, feminist. There is also a lot to be said of the story of her life in relation to her work. She grew up in an artistic family--her mother was a ceramic sculptor, her father a painter and photographer, and her brother an aspiring video-artist. She grew up between the U.S. and Italy, where her parents kept a house while they were working on university fellowships. She spent her collegiate years in Providence, Rome, and New York, where she finally ended her life at the mere age of 22.
I like how Chris Townsend compares her to Penelope, the wife of the mythical Odysseus: "always, endlessly, remaking and deconstructing her tapestries." There's a lot to say about her work. Right now, I'm interested in how she uses the female body-her own body, in space--the ideas of presence and absence, with photographic manipulation like double and long exposures. She does, in fact, always appear to be more of an apparition than a person in her photographs.
in all the chaos of these past few weeks, with the end of summer dawning upon us and all, i sneakily managed to add two new photo sites to your "places to go" and now it's time for me to announce them:
two neighborhood photographers, danny weiss (going by his full name, daniel eric weiss) and john roman, have both given august births to new websites which feature their awesome black & white street photography. both also do fun, frequent updates, so check them out and check them frequently.
The playwright Chuck Mee, who makes all his work publicly available on his website, has kicked off a season of his own with the the Signature Theater Company with his adaption of an original Euripides text, Iphigenia 2.0. the show is directed by Tina Landau, member of Chicago's Steppenwolf Theatre Company.
In a blurb on his website, Mee says of this play:
The play by Euripides, set in the world today, in which a great imperial power steps into the world to go to war--taking an action so wrong that it sets the empire on the road to complete self-destruction. Proving, as Agamemnon himself says on the brink of the Trojan war, "we see from the histories of empires that none will last forever and all are brought down finally not by others but by themselves."
In Hilton Als' review for the New Yorker, he gives a nice, condensed understanding of Mee's work: But one can tell that Mee is equally excited by the works of the director Elizabeth LeCompte and the Wooster Group and of the German choreographer Pina Bausch. Like them, he adapts historical texts to reflect the world as it is now: a fragmented place, torn apart by war, by the disintegration of the family, and by politicians who offer a canned performance of authority while disavowing all responsibility.
With the recent media attention Nina Berman's show Purple Hearts has been getting (which has now been extended at the jB gallery until September 8th), the Signature Theater's production of Mee's play has arrived at the most opportune time for a discussion on the present-day war in Iraq.
Iphigenia 2.0 will run until September 30th. Another of Mee's play, Hotel Cassiopeia presented by the SITI Company, will be on view at BAM for a few brief days in October.
home project 1 by Summer '07 HS winner Dan Boardman
Yesterday we announced the winners of the Summer edition of Hey, Hot Shot!. Check them out! The above photo is by one of the winners I posted about awhile back, Dan Boardman.
last night i went to dinner with some friends at the new cuban spot over on avenue b, cafe cortadito, which had a featured review in last week's new york magazine. i was really excited to go, not only because i love new restaurants and cuban food, but because the review promised that it was small, cheap, and BYOB.
if there ever was a place more appropriate to BYOB, it's cafe cortadito. we got there to discover a 20-minute wait, but, luckily, we had a six pack of corona light with us, which the hostess kindly offered to open for us. we hung out outside, drinking our beer along with all the other eager new customers. we got seated after our first beer in a rather tight table, but we didn't mind--we were hungry. the staff took the rest of our beers to refrigerate them as we took to the menu. although we were pretty enchanted with the option of fritas Cubanas (fried sliders), we decided to pass since we were about to get heavy meat dishes. we started with two salads, an avocado salad with watercress, red onion, and tomato, topped with balsamic vinegar, and another one called guancajo, or something--it had watercress, avocado, pineapple, tropical cheese, and red onion. both were delicious and refreshing.
then came the second course, which unfortunately took a really long time, close to 30-40 minutes to arrive. however, we were so pleased with the meal that we had no cause to complain. at our table we had to orders of the vaca frita, which was pan-fried shredded beef and onion topped with a mojo sauce. it was amazing--the beef was crispy and infused with the tangy mojo sauce. we also got two orders of the churrasco, which was recommended by new york mag. it was a thick slab of skirt steak alongside the best chimichurri i've ever had--better than at an argentinian restaurant. also, everything was accompanied by rice and beans. the food was remarkable and the atmosphere was fun and intimate. unfortunately, i could barely move after the meal. seriously, my legs were kind of frozen from all that meat. it was well-priced and apparently they serve a delicious brunch for only $6.95!
via the wonderful cultural information i get from flavorpill, i just found out about a theatrical event occuring this evening that is, well, in the neighborhood. in a parking lot. on ludlow and broome. it's a series called "shakespeare in the parking lot", and it's put up by the drilling company. tonight's performance is free and is set to begin at 8 (bring your own chairs) and the players will be performing much ado about nothing.
you can read a review about their last parking lot appearance with romeo and juliet (aptly rivaling the other "shakespeare in the...") here.
i just found out via the yellow stereo that the soundtrack for todd hayne's bob dylan biopic i'm not there has just been released:
“All Along The Watchtower” :: Eddie Vedder & The Million Dollar Bashers “As I Went Out One Morning” :: Mira Billotte “Ballad Of A Thin Man” :: Stephen Malkmus & The Million Dollar Bashers “Billy” :: Los Lobos “Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window” :: The Hold Steady “Can’t Leave Her Behind” :: Stephen Malkmus & Lee Ranaldo “Cold Irons Bound” :: Tom Verlaine & The Million Dollar Bashers “Dark Eyes” :: Iron & Wine & Calexico “Fourth Time Around” :: Yo La Tengo “Goin’ To Acapulco” :: Jim James & Calexico “Highway 61 Revisited” :: Karen O & The Million Dollar Bashers “I Wanna Be Your Lover” :: Yo La Tengo “I’m Not There” :: Bob Dylan “I’m Not There” :: Sonic Youth “Just Like A Woman” :: Charlotte Gainsbourg & Calexico “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” :: Ramblin’ Jack Elliot “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” :: Antony & The Johnsons “The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll” :: Mason Jennings “Maggie’s Farm” :: Stephen Malkmus & The Million Dollar Bashers “Mama You’ve Been On My Mind” :: Jack Johnson “The Man In The Long Black Coat” :: Mark Lanegan “Moonshiner” :: Bob Forrest “One More Cup Of Coffee” :: Roger McGuinn & Calexico “Pressing On” :: John Doe “Ring Them Bells” :: Sufjan Stevens “Señor (Tales Of Yankee Power)” :: Willie Nelson & Calexico “Simple Twist Of Fate” :: Jeff Tweedy “Stuck Inside Of Mobile With Memphis Blues Again” :: Cat Power “The Times They Are A Changin’” :: Mason Jennings “Tombstone Blues” :: Richie Havens “When The Ship Comes In” :: Marcus Carl Franklin “Wicked Messenger” :: The Black Keys “You Ain’t Goin ‘Nowhere” :: Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová
In the current edition of Purple Fashion Magazine, which I finally bought for myself, there is an unbelievably quirky "piece" on one of my favorite folkies, Ms. Joanna Newsom, written by another favorite of mine, Miranda July. The piece was so quirky that I felt the need to share it with everyone, and since it's not available online, I will make it available here:
True or False: When Joanna Newsom takes out the trash, she clangs the trash can lids loudly to scare away any bears that might be in the area.
True or false: Joanna Newsom takes out the trash.
True or false: Bears.
When Joanna plays with the London Symphony Orchestra next year she will wear: a) Jeans. b) A real nice vintage gown. c) You, gutted. (Your friends will be amazed to see you up there, playing the harp so hypnotically. They didn't even know your were musical.)
True or false: You.
Now then. Are Joanna's skin, hair, and eyes basically all variations on the same color, and is that color the color of a deer, and is that deer standing by a river, very still, listening?
No, the deer is crashing through the woods, at breakneck speed, but not in fear.
It runs past death and insults and caring.
It keeps on going.
It's gone. She's the color of a gone deer.
When she sings that part about "filling her long ears with beads," "long ears" is a metaphor for a) A vagina b) A vagina c) A vagina
Or, is she saying bees? Long ears with bees. That's probably it. Nevermind the previous question.
