Wednesday, June 05, 2013
I have many regrets about dropping off the radar with eastvillageidiot over the winter and spring. I missed the chance to INSIST that you march over to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to see the film installation Street. It is an amazingly cool work by artist James Nares capturing the spirit of the real people of New York City. Read more:
Street, a new video by the British-born artist James Nares, forms the centerpiece of this exhibition. Over the course of a week in September 2011, Nares—a New Yorker since 1974—recorded sixteen hours of footage of people on the streets of Manhattan from a moving car using a high-definition camera usually used to record fast-moving subjects such as speeding bullets and hummingbirds. He then greatly slowed his source material, editing down the results to one hour of steady, continuous motion and scoring it with music for twelve-string guitar composed and performed by his friend Thurston Moore, co-founder of Sonic Youth.
Originally, I took Ben because he was searching for an exhibit in NY that he could review for his art class. The one hour experience overwhelmed both of us. It's been a while since I've fallen back in love with the City. The fluid choreography of every day life on its streets hit such a deep chord in me. It felt like coming home. The colors and textures of each neighborhood were so vivid from the lush fruit sold outside bodegas uptown to the polished brass of midtown. Check out a clip:
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Don't let the title of this post mislead you. I will not be leaving the earth's orbit anytime soon. At least not by choice.
It is simply that I decided to take on a huge personal frontier. Space. Personal space, physical space and if time permits, outer space. Okay, maybe not that last part.
They say all great journeys begin with the first step, which in my case, still leaves me in my apartment. Growing up with my four sisters and brothers in an East Village railroad flat then an undersized suburban home with grandparents, parents and various dogs, cats, guinea pigs and amphibians produced a mixed aesthetic perspective among us. Most of my siblings left home with an unwavering commitment to minimalism, purposeful design and profound neatness. My younger brother's stunning apartment recently made the cover of New York magazine for that very reason.
Not me folks. I got the roly-poly hippy dippy gene. Stacks of stuff everywhere. Books, instruments, clothes, artwork, sentimental objects that have no rational purpose in my home and papers hailing from all points of the universe. I would not be surprised to find the Magna Carta wedged under my bureau between dog toys and unstrung ukuleles.
Change is in the wind. And as ancient texts suggest, the time has come to put away childish things. Not in the literal sense of toys, silly behavior or a sense of wonder about the world, just all the crap that stops you from growing and evolving. Now I want my home to reflect who I am instead of the clutter or visual static that I hide behind. There. I said it. The editing process has begun.
So, I asked Brian to paint our apartment bedroom the color of butter. After the paint dried, it looked much more like a stick of butter creamed together with egg yolks. It is a rich color that exudes a sense of fruitfulness and abundance. God had a hand in painting those walls. The color is far deeper in tone than the bucket of paint we brought in. It makes all the fabric, wood and artwork in my bedroom look ripe. I cast off any stuff I did not need and it feels so liberating.
It's good to be free.