Art: Doodle

A doodle is usually something you draw without thinking or planning. It just sort of happens. People always say, "I don't know what to draw," but no one really says, "I don't know what to doodle." There's a routine to it, for most of us. Maybe you always draw boxes. Maybe it's eyes. Maybe its letters of the alphabet. Mostly the doodle happens when you're thinking about other things, or talking on the phone, or waiting for a file to download. Your hand reaches for a pen and paper and the next thing you know, images start to appear. And sometimes you look down and exclaim, "Oh my goodness, what did I just draw?"

Favorite things

LETTERS: Cable company

Dear 877-blahblahblah-something something something Optimum cable,

I know you're probably just psyched I spelled your name right (and P.S. I didn't). Optimum? Optimal? Optic fcking nerves blowing up in my head? STOP THAT COMMERCIAL RIGHT NOW.

Lucky for me I know how to write a proper business letter, so that I can scribe this one to you now and make it effective.

At the risk of humiliating myself and my forefathers (and mothers), you need to know something irregardless. When your commercial comes on the air, I TURN THE TV OFF. Yeah, I don't even "mute" it and divert my attention otherwise. I don't raise the volume on the new hot song playing on my computer. I don't change the channel to see what Rachael Ray wants me to cook in 5 minutes or less. NO. I have to turn it off. I'm in the middle of watching a pointless youtube flick, and I literally stand up, walk allllllll the way across the room, and shut the TV off, just so I do not have to listen to your commercial for the a thousand billionth time. And yes, that's a real number.

I don't want to hear all that crap about how TV is bad for me, blahblahblah. I know it is. Why else would I watch it? But if I'm going to be properly inundated with product endorsements and propaganda that I pretend to believe I think I agree with, then at LEAST make it a good commercial! Your song (or jingle or whatever) is worse than a Mariah Carey ballad at Christmas. It's worse than some 6 year old kid who wants to be famous and belts it out for guest judge Sharon Osbourne. Your commercial is so bad it makes my cat bark. Your commercial is so bad it makes me think Vanna White is my hero.

Ever read a book called The Tipping Point? Yes? No? Yes? The point, my FRIEND(z), is not to make your audience tip over in their chair because they think they are going to go insane if they hear your commercial one more time during a Tyra B. rerun. Girl, I am trying to learn how to strike it fierce, and you are ruining my runway walk practice time.

So. In conclusion. Stop airing that commercial. So that I can return to being the passive, complacent television watching viewer that I've always been.

Gracias.
And good night.

Language: portmanteau

portmanteau

a word that fuses two or more words or word parts to give a combined or loaded meaning.

examples:

• spork
• guesstimate
• wikipedia
• ginormous

News: RIP = Rodent In Peace

Check it:
http://mysesame.blogspot.com/

Life: Hopes for the new year

Things I would like to see happen (to u and me) in 2008:

1. I don't want to put cashiers out of business, but I really, I mean really, love those self-checkout machines at the A&P. I also like it when there's a guy (or gal) standing at that little podium overseeing all the self-checkers, just watching over us, you know? like, angels or something. It makes me feel better. Like, if I run a box of Tam Tams over the laser beam and the bar code doesn't generate a price check, I know that all I have to do is look over my shoulder and my "angel" will run over and say something like, "step aside ma'am" and I will. And then they press some button or something, and everything works out in the end, and they say something like, "go ahead," and so I do. My wish for 2008 is that you will always have an angel behind you letting you know when it is safe to go ahead.

2. I would like to receive more self-address stickers in the mail from animal rescue league conservation forest children in peril organization companies. how do they know that exact moment when I run out of last year's cute kitten collection?

3. I would like to see youtube take off.

4. I would like to see certain people come back together: Brad and Jen. Donald and Carolyn. Heidi and Lauren. Angela and Jordan. Brit and Lynn.

5. I would like to learn how to play an F.

6. And sixthly, my wish for you is that you finally learn how to take your photos off your cell phone. Or even better, learn how to use the real camera you own. Yes. You. YOU.

7. I'm done. No, wait, wait! There's more!

8. I want to invent a hugely monumental e-business that makes me e-millions in a matter of e-months. And the only office supplies I want to have are a pile of purple post-its, 2 Ziploc bags, 1 change of clothes, a sharpie, 3 expo markers, and a dream.

9. Front row tickets to A CHORUS LINE. [check]

10. I can feel it. This is going to be our year. OUR YEAR, BABY! [for Prozac].

Life: The Best Of 2007...

The New York Times and Radar Magazine both asked me to compile a list of 2007 Best Of's for the new year (yeah, both! it was so weird. I was like, I've got my own blog I don't need you, thanks so much).

So here's what I wrote anyway, for free, because I believe that your job should be what you would do anyway if you weren't getting paid. And I'm not getting paid to do this, and it's not my job, so it all works out for everyone in the end.


Best Movie(s):
The Savages
Flannel Pajamas

Best Book:
Man Walks Into A Room, Nicole Krauss

Best Song:
Kill To Know, Amy Miles

Best Pet:
Sesame (RIP)
& the ball will roll no longer

Best City:
Florence

Best Bubby:
Bubby

Best Restaurant:
Aqua Due

Best Website:
Blurb.com

Best Magic Marker:
Sharpie, ultra fine point

Best Artist:
Alex Webb

Best Way To Locate Your Birth Mother:
Maury Povitch

Best Catch Phrase:
"Move it to the top"
(aka: "Put it on your queue")

Best Use Of My Time:
Not this

Best Answer I gave someone who asked me how it's possible for me to meet people if I don't do online dating:
"Serendipitously"

Best Use Of Mother Nature:
Full moons

Best Line:
"I'm really busy and I don't know what I'm doing with my life."

Best Name for a Restaurant:
The Bourgeois Pig

Best Airline:
British Airways


Add your own in the comments below.

News: Guess the story

"Information is not private because no one knows it; it is private because the knowing is limited and controlled," argues Danah Boyd, an anthropologist and social-networking expert at the University of California, Berkeley.

Art: Street Dancing

Street Dance from Robin Cantrell on Vimeo.

Events: Art Openings

You know that scene in Strangers With Candy when Jerry tells her friend that he reminds her of a monkey. And he gets insulted. And she says, "But why? Monkeys are hilarious!"

That's what ran through my mind last night when I was at the opening of The New Museum (of Contemporary Art -- but if you have to ask, you don't deserve to know) at 235 Bowery Street.

To make the directions simple, just take the N/R/W to Prince Street, and walk all the way away from Broadway up Prince Street, until you get to the end of options. And there in front of you, will be a big metallic building, like square blocks piled precariously on top of one another, with a big neon rainbow sign that says, "HELL, YES!" on the front. It brings the phrase, "don't worry, you can't miss it" into a whole new light. Plus, the only reason I'm telling you how to get there is because you don't even want to know how lost I got getting there. But that's the story of my life now, isn't it? Hell, yes.

By the time I reached the 7th floor of this museum, I was leaving a voice mail for my sister, saying, "This is the raddest museum I have ever been to."

Well, first I should tell you what happened before I reached the museum. A friend was having a show in the Garden State, and I stopped by her opening first. She does ceramics, and she was showing with a pastel artist and a photographer. Can pastel ever catch a break? I don't think so. It's the bedazzle of the art world. No matter how hard you shine it, it's still a rhinestone. Once I was in someone's house in Ohio, and she had framed pastels on her walls. They matched her couches. Intentionally.

The ceramics were wonderful. I love her work. Brilliant, sensitive, delicate, mysterious. Different. Definitely different.

The photography was OK, and the subject matter reminded me of quaint little thrift stores I used to frequent in my upstate NY days. But I felt like the artist never stopped saying, "This is sooo quaint" with her photographs, and so it didn't really impress me. Like, she was photographing for the sake of capturing someone else's things, but not really as a way of making her own statement. It was like her photographs were saying, "Look how the snow falls on the edges of this wooden wheel that is propped against the farmhouse." Instead of, I don't know, something else. There was little room for, interpretation, I guess you could say.

OK, moving onward. I eventually made it downtown and found myself at this little opening (all the mirrors outside caught my eye) at this big name gallery which is actually a very little space. The show was called, and let me see if I can spell this right, Nude Anthropometries Descending A Staircase. On Crosby Street.

Every inch of every wall was filled up with big paper, little canvases, note cards, and whatever. The art seemed like commentary, reactions to something, impressions of something. I don't know. I don't know what was going on there. They served a great vodka pomegranate drink upstairs though, and that put a smile on my face.

Some conversations I overheard (inspired by the art, I presume. I hope):

• "I wish you had a hoof instead of an arm."
• "This work is reminiscent of..."
• "Eva Mendes once called me drunk."

No, really, I enjoyed it. Total fun. Total energy. Lots of happy people, most as colorful as the art, staring at the art, trying to look like they got it. Or not even trying. Just enjoying it. It was full bodied, reminded me of art school days, vibrant. If I were a cynic, I would write something harsh and judgmental with big words to show you how smart I am, but I'm not. So I won't. I think art is hilarious, especially on nights like this. Who knows what we're creating, why we're creating it, why we're celebrating it. But I tip my hat to those who make it happen, and keep trying. It's hard to be original these days. It's hard to impress and make a dent in this world, beat up already as it is. But yay! for those who give it a go.

Then, onward, buzzed from the pomegranate, into the night air once more. I reached the aforementioned neon HELL, YES! and was happy to step in from the freezing night air. To celebrate their opening, the New Museum was opening their doors for free, for 30 hours, this weekend. The space is pretty fun and original as far as museums go. It's open, vast, and electric. I won't bore with you a play-by-play of everything I saw (gotta see it to believe it, as they say) but it involved the following:

• Candy
• Cardboard
• Flash animation
• Tim Allen's Disney movie, The Shaggy Dog

Overheard:

• "I think that's real mattress!"
  
• "102 dollars, please."
  
• "I'm sorry, there's no eating allowed on this floor, even though I know they gave you food on the other floor."
  
• "That was really funny. You have to watch it from the beginning."
  
• "How do you get out of here?"

I really do think this is a great museum, and I'm psyched I got to see it as a newborn. Some crazy stuff is going to go down there, I'm sure.

On the subway back up town, I came across an Asian man sitting in a corner, constructing complicated portraits of people with nothing but an origami-sized piece of paper and a scissor. It was unbelievable, and he drew a large crowd as people gathered round to watch him cut and snip his way through a piece of black paper ("in only 2 minutes!"). For a mere $8, he would cut your self-portrait, snowflake style, magically forming a total likeness of your face ("Smile! You must smile!"), which he then signed and placed inside a pre-cut beautiful matte. I mean, it was astonishing, and beautiful. The young guy standing next to me was getting his portrait done, and the result was complete before the L pulled into the station. It was more than a keepsake. It was just as valuable as any of that "art" I saw earlier in those fancy shmancy name dropping gallery spaces.

I can't complain. I can't really criticize any of this. It's all a form of eyeball exercise, taking the time to see what other people are creating and birthing. Who are we to judge so quickly and mock their mysterious reasons for fame. Who are we to say, "I paid $20 for what??" when we exit these big museums and small galleries and drink their vodka. Especially when it was all free.

LINKS:

• Jonathan Shorr Gallery
• The New Museum
• I googled everywhere for the origami subway man, but found nothing.

Movie: Angels In America

I hope you don't hate me for putting it this way, but Angels In America, as a film, is as monumentally defining of a epidemic as Schindler's List was. I know I'm about 5 years late in discovering this film, but I don't care if takes someone 80 years to see it, eventually we should all be an audience to this work of art. It's sheer brilliance.

I should change the name of this blog to the Official Justin Kirk Fan club, because if I loved him before, I bow to him now. His craft is tremendous. It stared with Flannel Pajamas, then Puccini For Beginners and now I'm a Weeds addict, all because of him. Plus, Mary Louise Parker shows up in Angels with him in some beautiful scenes, and in Weeds too.

Angels also stars Meryl Streep, Al Pacino, and Emma Thompson. Plus a lot of other names you'll want to start IMDBing as soon as the credits start rolling. Including Jeffrey Wright and Ben Shenkman. It's based on a play by Tony Kushner, and directed by Mike Nichols. It was originally on HBO and sweeped the awards seasons in 2003. It's about AIDS and relationships, and gayness in America, and religion, and family. It's total brilliance, captivating, unforgettable. Really, it's rare I think that a film can make that much of a difference in the world today. Everything has a shelf-life, you know? But this film. THIS film.

Everyone should see this.
Move it to top of your queue today.

Camera: Leica Mini Digital Camera

I.Want.This.Immediately.

How bad do I want this? If I were a kid, and I was walking with my mom in the mall, and I pointed to that camera and cried out, "Buy! Buy! Buy!" and she said, "No, you have enough stuff already," then I would proceed to slump on to the floor and throw a fit until she caved and got me what I wanted. But of course, my mom would never cave. So I'd start babysitting, get a paper route, and save every penny I found in the corners of the couch until I could buy it myself. That's how we rolled in my house.

Leica Mini Digital Camera
Available Online Only!
Free Shipping!
$225.00!

Hear that Santa?? Hanukkah Harry? Tooth Fairy?

• 5.0 Megapixel
• 1/3-scale reproduction of the iconic Leica rangefinder.
• Features include: 5.0 Megapixel resolution; 4X digital zoom; Video mode, which captures motion in AVI format; a 1.5" TFT/LCD display at the rear; 32MB of internal memory; an SD card slot to expand your memory up to a whopping 8GB; USB interface with included cable; compatibility with Minox's Classic Camera series flash; rechargeable long-life Li-Ion battery.
• Comes complete with a leather camera strap and a classy wooden display box.
• Mac and PC compatible

Here's the funny part...
Apparently, you can only buy it online at... Urban Outfitters.

Artist: Sarah Walker

Sarah Walker's paintings, now showing at PIEROGI gallery in Brooklyn, are a mind bender. You don't simply see her paintings, you enter them. They seem like a vision of what the eyes sees before it registers what it is. Her images, though abstract, seem familiar. I can look at one and think that I see a cabin in a woods, the sky between the trees, an ethernet, a web. But the image she has created is more complex than that, more puzzling, more advanced than a simple representation of a thing.

Her technique is a series of layering, overlapping, deleting, rubbing and revealing. There is a sense of archival to her paintings, which you understand when you peer up close (which you must do, and are compelled to do). It's like some areas of paint are preserved on purpose, while others are deleted in an attempt to unveil their residue below. You can like one painting more than another, with no real ability to discern why. You can be drawn to one, and unaffected by another, yet the content is the same. Colors can be deceiving, shapes can transform before you.

The canvases in the gallery are embraced by simple white planks of wood nailed into the walls. It is all white, save for her work. It is simple vs. chaos. There is order, and there is nothing.

Pierogi website
Sarah Walker website

People: Jay Z

I saw Jay Z walking around the LES, talking on his cell phone. I almost didn't think it was him because he seemed so un-bling. Just a guy, wearing a black track suit, walking down the street. But I'd know that face anywhere.

Cruisin down the westside (high, way)
Doing what we like to do (our, way)
Eyes behind shades, this necklace the reason
all of my dates been blind dates
But today, I got my thoroughest girl wit me
I'm mashin the gas, she's grabbin the wheel, it's true to the heart
She rides with me - the new Bobby and Whitney
Only time we don't speak is during "Sex and the City"
She gets Carrie fever, but soon as the show is over
She's right back to being my soldier

Art: Artists & Fleas

Today I was at "Artists & Fleas" -- an amazing flea market for artists in Bklyn. It took my breath away as soon as I walked in. This garage-turned-market is filled corner to corner with fantastic, one-of-a-kind artisan wares -- mostly jewelery and t-shirts, but also books, records, and vintage clothes. There's even a DJ mixing the best beats while you shop (if you can even imagine the type of music you'd want to hear at an artist's flea market, then that's exactly what he was playing).

What's most important to note here, is how NICE everyone was. These are working artists, who are genuinely passionate about their crafts and eager for you to try them on, touch them, and ask questions (most of the artists also sell their work on etsy.com).

The place has such a great ambiance and flavor to it. I looked at everything and my eyes lit up every time I heard the stories behind the crafts. Like, "Oh, those earrings are made from old pennies covered in found paper." Or, "I found the centerpieces for the necklaces in an old button store." Or, "my mom just showed me a whole box of jewelery she had from the 80's, big gaudy rings that I can take apart. But not this piece. This one I'm keeping." Or, "yes, my husband and I designed all these pieces together. The necklaces are only $10." Or, "sure, we take credit cards!"

I went home with the first piece of jewelery I spotted as soon as I walked in the store. My friend told me I gravitated towards it so quickly, that I needed to get it. So now it's around my neck. And it has wings. I can't tell you how much I love it.

"Artists & Fleas" is located at 129 N. 6th between Bedford & Berry.
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
open EVERY Saturday & Sunday from 12-8pm
Website

Video: Animator vs Animation

You have no idea the depth of coolness this animation contains.

Video: Plug Your Head

TV: Saturday Night Live - On Strike!

I.want.to.be.there
---------------------

NEW YORK - With their regular programs halted by a writers' strike, cast members of NBC's "Saturday Night Live" and "30 Rock" planned to stage a pair of live performances at a Manhattan improv theater.

The shows, held at the 150-seat Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre co-founded by SNL's Amy Poehler, will benefit the behind-the-scenes staffers who have lost work because of the shutdowns caused by the two-week strike by the Writers Guild of America.

"The Upright Citizens Brigade Theater is a second home to a lot of these performers and writers," Poehler said in a statement. "We are doing this to raise spirits, raise awareness and raise money for our hard-working production crews who will be having a hard holiday season if this strike continues."

Saturday night's sold-out 11:30 p.m. performance, billed on the Brigade's Web site as "Saturday Night Live — On Strike!" was reportedly to include skits, musical guest Yo La Tengo and "Superbad" star Michael Cera as guest host.

A performance of "30 Rock — On Strike!" at 8 p.m. Monday is to include the show's full cast performing a complete episode, according to a theater employee. The show's stars include Tina Fey, Tracy Morgan, Jane Krakowski and Alec Baldwin.

That show is also mostly sold out, except for a handful of tickets to be made available at the door.

Fashion: Guitar Tshirt

I know the very notion that I am considering purchasing this t-shirt makes me a 16-year old girl. But isn't 30 the new 20? So that makes this only about 5 years inappropriate.

But, pleeeease?

I think I deserve it. You have no idea how much better I am getting on the guitar. And how much of a butterfly I really am. I wish it didn't say Jason Mraz on the front. But. Well. He did email me personally that one time. Remember?

So, can I get it?

Authors: Jonathan Safran Foer

I was supposed to go to a literary event in my town tonight. But plans changed, and at the last minute I found myself back in the car, heading over the GW for a different literary event at BN on 66.

Tonight, Jonathan Safran Foer (my favorite writer as you know, second to my other favorite writer, Nicole Kraus) was introducing/interviewing/supporting another writer named Howard Jacobson. Foer is a 30-something, Brooklyn-dwelling, shaggy haired, bespeckled writer with an incredible talent and a very rich agent. His books are personal, Jewish, pondering, painful, and hysterical. Jacobson is a much older, just as funny, just as Jewish, introspective, intelligent writer from England.

I escalated all the way up to the top floor of the bookstore to grab a hot chocolate before the talk began. I had Foer's book in my bag -- the final novel I bought in Italy during my last lonely but powerful days in Florence. I devoured this book while traveling, and embraced it like a companion.

Standing in line, waiting for my drink to arrive, I suddenly noticed Foer amongst the group of patrons, talking with a friend. I knew it was him immediately. At first my mouth broke into a huge grin, and then I quickly looked away. It was almost odd. I think the gleam of seeing one of your "favorites" becomes tarnished when you see them standing in the same consumer line you are in, simply a pedestrian waiting for coffee.

I wanted to hand him my book. I want to say something. I wanted to ignore him, or call his name, or pretend I didn't notice, or smile in his direction. But, I did nothing. The line passed by me. Because of some confusion behind the counter, people's drinks were coming out before mine and I was left standing to the side watching confused cashiers try to untangle the mess of lattes and skim milks. I was in no rush. With each drink that was handed out, Foer and his friend stepped closer to the front.

And, as fate would have it (can you call it fate?), eventually he was standing next to me, and we were reaching for our hot beverages at the same time. I seized the moment.

"Forgive me for becoming a dork," I said, with a smile, "but I am a huge fan of your work." I didn't introduce myself. I didn't acknowledge him by name. I just, spoke, before I could loose the nerve, here, in the line for coffee.

He smiled, and thanked me kindly. He looked like such a modest man. Somewhat reserved, not as rambunctious as the characters he writes about. "I just loved your book so much, it meant so much to me," I said, words bumping against one another. He told me quickly that I should come to the talk downstairs so I would meet a different writer who was really great. "I know!" I said, "That's why I'm here." And then I added, "And please, tell your wife, if you don't mind, that her book, Man Walks Into A Room, just moved me so much. I mean, I just loved it so much." He said, "I'll tell her." That was it, and I turned away.

I headed down the stairs, boasting with excitement. I took a seat with the 50 or so people who had filled the room for the talk. When it began, Foer started with an introduction of Jacobson and his new book, Kalooki Nights, which couldn't have been a more effusive, hilarious and gushing pronouncement. It was honorable praise, one I imagine an author could wait a lifetime hoping to hear. Genuine reverence is hard to come by these days.

Jacobson was a delight to listen to, and I got the sense that if I were up to date on the English Jewish writer's scene, I would be falling over myself to make his acquaintance. He read a few excerpts from his book, talked excessively and poignantly about the Jewish persona and the valour of comedy (his true religion, he said). He was even bold enough to take a question from someone who asked, "When did anti-semitism against Jews begin?" Jacobson fell back into his chair and inhaled his gasp. "Could you ask me a heavier question please?" he asked. The audience laughed with empathy. It was an interesting moment because so much of their discourse seemed structured around the assumption that everyone in the audience was a bonafied kvetcher, a Hebrew school drop out, a shayna punim. After all, it was the upper west side. But apparently that wasn't the case, and the man who asked the question seemed bewildered by everything that was so nonchalantly being said about Jewish existence that evening. The room was filled with subtle references and innuendos that only a card-carrying member of the tribe had the luxury of taking for granted. But Jacobson answered the question slowly, thoughtfully, and at times, perversely. There were more sex jokes thrown around than kugel references.

After the talk, the lined formed for autographs. I picked up Jacobson's book, and once I saw others do the same, pulled out my copy of Foer's book that had been touched by the Tuscan sun.
When I reached the table, I said hello again to Foer, and handed him my book. He commented on the origin of my name, and then signed the inside cover, personalizing his signature and writing the letters of my name with a curvaceous flair. I told him to look at the back so he could see the Italia sticker marking the geographic source of its purchase. "It even has the European cover," I pointed out. I couldn't have been more excited, more filled with gratitude for this moment. It felt like it all had come full circle.

July. I remember holding the book tightly, reading it under the pink shadows of the Duomo and under the stern glares of Medusa's head in Piazza Signoria. I remember clutching it on the plane as we took off, heading back to the States, the threatening rumble of jet engines below my feet. Who would have known that 4 months later the book would be in the hands of the person who had written it, inscribing his name below the title? And then, with a twist of the pen, my own name would appear, like a final stamp of declaration that this story, my story, had really occurred.

Websites: More to play with

Amazing new sites (with amazing new names) that I came across today, thanks to the collection of resources I got going over on my igoogle.

FAUNT:
http://fawnt.com/
It's a GREAT resource. So many free fonts to download for your mac or pc. It even has search functionality and categories (like handwriting, pixel-fonts, dingbats, etc.). Who cares about shoes, it's FONTS this girl can't have enough of.

TILT VIEWER:
http://www.airtightinteractive.com/projects/tiltviewer/app/
Airttight Interactive, a web development company, is responsible for this amazingness. It's a "titlt viewer" that works with flickr. Click on it and see what happens. First, notice the cascading way the images fall onto the page. Then, literally, start tilting. Press the little arrow on the bottom of a photo to see who posted the image on flickr. It makes the web seem so much less "click here" and so much more "float here."

Wondering what the point of this is and how it makes the world a better place? Well, the artists themselves said this:
"Does a 3D UI give more functionality than the equivalent 2D interface? No, but its certainly a lot cooler! Part of the motivation to build this was to explore ways to make 3D interfaces simple and intuitive."

And finally: FREE RICE
http://www.freerice.com/
Click on the answer that best defines the word. If you get it right, you get a harder word. If wrong, you get an easier word. For each word you get right, 10 grains of rice is donated to the United Nations World Food Program.

Artist: Ansel Adams

Just discovered a great article on the AP wire about Ansel Adams. There's been a recent discovery of some photographs of his that most likely were never entended for public viewing. But, now they've been revealed as "proofs" of images he was planning on photographing. Sketch-photos, if you will.

Everyone loves something behind-the-scenes. Famous, heroic artists like Adams are normally preserved under bright lights beneath big museum names. But it's rare that we get the chance to see them as human, experimenting, messing around with ideas.

"Adams' prints are perfection," exhibit curator Stephen Jareckie said. "But these proofs have a certain vitality that you don't find in a finished print. It gives them an educational point of view and shows the public what Adams' work is like at that stage — a work in progress."

Do you think Adams would have been cool with this? If you became a famous artist, revered by the billions, would you want a sketchbook of your ideas released to the public?

William Turnage, one of three Adams' trustees [said]. "I think it's unethical in terms of museum ethics and behavior. It's something that never would be done at MoMA or the Art Institute of Chicago. ...But you know, what the heck? Some people are going to take advantage and try to profiteer, and there's nothing we can do about it."

Ethical or not, what can we learn from this? That everything we make is about process, that nothing just appears as it is, and images take time to unfold. Artists think, and they plan, or they plan not to think. Either way, it's process.

"The more we find out about artists, the better perception we have of their life," Pendergraft said. "This gives us a better feel for Ansel Adams and some of his travels through the country that we didn't realize he had been in. It fills in some of the blanks and will give the visitor here a whole new perception of who he was and how he took photographs."

Source

Restaurant: Jules

The restaurant is called Jules
It's on 65 saint marks st
between 2 and 1st ave

I don't usually write about restaurants on this blog, but if you're googling this eatery and you come across this blogpost, then you should know that it is really worth your time. So if that's your question, then yes, you should go there tonight.

When you first enter the place, you have to push back the big, plush, red velvet curtains. That right there turns your foray into the restaurant into a "stop and pay attention" moment. The small, candle-lit room is busy with energy, laughter and vibrance. Mostly I noticed how it seemed so friendly -- big tables surrounded by smiling people, linen tablecloths, wine-filled glasses, everyone having a good time. Lucky for me, that's what we were there to do.

The other thing, the most important thing really, is the jazz band playing against the wall. Cute guys with big instruments were making some really good music that night, and apparantly there's one musician who frequents the place as someone who can play the trumpet with his mouth. Meaning, no instrument; just his mouth. And he's good!

We sat in the back "hallway" area, where you can still hear the music but hold a fun conversation with the person next to you. The waiters were excellent, kept our glasses full the whole night. The food was terrific! I had a steak dish, with asparagus risotto. The person to my left had a salmon dish with amaazing mashed potatoes. The person to my right ordered something with an extravagant name that turned out just to be meatballs and spaghtetti, and she could only finish one of them.

I appreciate good food, but I don't always want to eat a meal where I have to keep praising the food. Sometimes you want good food, but you want your energy to be on the people you're eating with. However, this was really good food! And really great music! And a great table of people to share it with. So that makes the evening a what? A triple threat.

Artist: Jeff Scher

Ohhh, goodness. What a discovery.

I love learning about a new artist whose work just makes me want to stop everything and start creating immediately.

Today I discovered Jeff Scher, who has a blog on the New York Times website. His bio says that he is "a painter who makes experimental films and an experimental filmmaker who paints." I like that. I like using the word "experimental" in a description about yourself, and I like the idea of presenting an identity that is a dichotomy of sorts. I don't think that artists should be able to define themselves too clearly. Kind of reminds me of that show tune lyric, "you gotta get a gimmick, if you wanna to get ahead."

I did some research into his work, and learned this on zanimation.tv:

Scher gave up his pre-med studies for film while at Bard College in the mid-1970s. He still makes use of rotoscoping, an old animation technique in which film frames are blown up and traced individually onto animation cels. In Scher's case, he painstakingly hand paints and shoots each frame of film, sometimes substituting clay, paper models or found materials for his paintings.

His work is sooooooo(etc.) moving. I'm especially recommending that you take a moment out of your busy day to watch his short animation, "You Won't Remember This." The title, the imagery, the movement, the music, is just so tender and precious.

I'm so in awe by this, as I usually am by animators, because I feel like the idea of capturing life frame by frame, light by light, is so awesome (and I mean that in the truest sense of the word). It's life in slow motion, then sped up again, but with an acute appreciation for how all our subtle nuances come together to create the big picture.

I'm really inspired by this.

--> His NYT blog, "The Animated Life"
--> His official website
--> "You Won't Remember This" - Film

Music: Covers - Part 2

I was going through my music, putting a new "mix tape" together for the car. I started looking at a bunch of songs I have by artists covering other artists. It's interesting how two artists can interpret the same song in totally different ways.

Play nice, children:

Bjork, covering the musical, Showboat



The Fugees, covering Queen



Ari Hest, covering John Mayer



Teitur, covering Jerry Lee Lewis



Jason Mraz, covering Christina Aguilera

Life: Best Of...

Who I Am (straight from the personals)

I play musical instruments and have a slight desire to raise bees for honey (perhaps related?).

I don't have a unique or original thought in my head, and make dull conformity the guiding principle of my life.

I consider myself unique and special, like a snowflake, and have an important destiny predestined for me, which entitles me to act in a selfish and occasionally petty manner but it's all for the greater good, you know, because of that snowflake/destiny I have.

I can ask monks for directions. This trait seems to be rare among men so i think this is good product differentiation.

Picture a young, half-asian Larry David with an absurd affinity for Tequila that works for a mega corporate conglomerate...jesus ...putting that in words was unbelievably therapeutic.

I've been in New York for a few years now, but I spent the majority of my life in the South. I point that out because I do miss the ability to call up a friend and just hang out without making an appointment a week in advance.

I have a to-read stack that includes Chekhov, Rushdie, and Saul Bellow -- yet I have a mysterious addiction to Us Weekly.

I'm so ugly that they push my face into dough to make animal cookies. I'm so ugly I make onions cry. I'm so ugly that my mom used to take me to work with her so that she didn't have to kiss me goodbye.

Those who don't know me very well would say I'm underspoken, but those who do know me, would probably say I border on obnoxious.

I was really really funny in grade six, I might have peaked there.

I am easily manipulated, will work for food, and for five minutes once a year I can be the life of the party.

I might be incapable of a long term emotional commitment. Or is this the wrong place to mention that?

I'm not sure I have any conception of what honest communication would be like with another human being, although I can imagine it being frightening, so we'll want to do it with a Plexiglas partition in between us.

Punk rocker turned science teacher.

Life: Annoying

I have an influx of fruit flies in my apartment.
If anyone can tell me how to get rid of them, I will pay you a million dollars.

Thank you.

Movie: Knocked Up

Ohhh, how hard it was not to hang around the water cooler when everyone started talking about this movie. Because for some reason, it took me forever to see it. But sometimes the perk of waiting for the DVD to come out is knowing that you're going to get to see the movie AND the bloopers all in one night. And who doesn't want to see the bloopers, especially with a movie like this?

Can I tell you? Can I just tell you? I LOVED this movie! I was told I would love it. And if you are one of the people who said I would love this movie [insert Ed McMahon voice]... YOU are correct, sir!

I loved it because it was funny and endearing and Seth Rogen is wicked cute. I loved it because it was filled with lots of hilarious, undersexed, overweight Jewish boys. I loved it because the women acted like women when they were around one another. I loved it because of some really great comedic actors who made poignant cameo appearances (hello Kristen Wiig). I loved it because everyone was redeemable. I loved it because it had a great soundtrack. I loved it because I had someone to root for in what first appeared to be a most unfavorable scenario.

Look, I've read the article that bashes this movie. I get the feminism argument. I hear ya and I see your point. But can we not talk about a woman's right to do whatever she wants for a moment? Instead, can we talk about why MEN are writing all these funny movies right now? And why the context is always about nerdy boys who get the hot girls? And why WOMEN are not writing all these funny movies about nerdy girls who get the hot boys without getting a makeover? Let's make the argument for or against this movie not about the lack of depth our female heroine displayed or the degree to which her hair was blond or her lips pouted. Let's raise the point that WOMEN are not writing jokes and it's about time we did!

The men in this movie were very, very funny. And the women made really great grossed-out faces when the men told their jokes. However, if you take the time to watch the out-takes and the bloopers on the DVD, you'll notice that there are a lot of outtakes where the female actresses are "out of character" and are actually making funny jokes. But for reason, that's not the way the MALES wrote the script. So, as soon as they gain their composure in front of the camera, they revert back to "girl makes gross face after guy tells fart joke".

Come on, people! I know some very funny women who tell some very funny fart jokes. And I would like someone.... No, wait... some WOMAN to write a funny mainstream movie like this. Newsflash: Girls who don't wear mascara to bed and don't try out for the cheer leading squad actually are worth writing a movie about. And no, I don't mean "Welcome to the Dollhouse", or "Mean Girls". Because even in "Mean Girls", eventually, her skirt gets shorter.

How about a movie about a girl who stays just the way she is, and she gets the boy who really comes to appreciate her for that. AND, I promise, someone can fart along the way.

Life: Best Of...

Who I'm Looking For:

if you said I should know you because you're unique, love to meet new people, and are up for everything, you're probably not and I probably shouldn't.

Someone tall and slender. I have a cardboard outline/silhouette you should measure up to.

Now i know this may be hard to find on this site. But someone that is equally as comfortable in heels as they are in jeans a shirt. (because that is really the glue that keeps any good relationship together)

Someone who understands that "chick" is not me being crass, its a term of endearment.

I would like to find a woman that makes me shut up every once in a while just by looking at me.

She ain't no Challah back girl.

If I met a girl with even half a sense of humor I'd follow her around like a puppy, a mostly house-broken puppy.

I'd really like to meet a woman that loves watch football (Jets fans preferred!) while wearing cute outfits.

In short, I'm looking for someone who encompasses the contradictions implicit in life, or at least someone who likes going to the movies.

I'm not looking to jump into bed with the first girl I meet, however I'm not looking to jump into a wedding tux either.

I want her to be blond, I want her to have no history of retardation in her family. If possible, she must have plow experience. Not much. Maybe a year. A girl who will remind me of my wife.

My ideal relationship would be very physical, both in the outdoors and sexual sense.

Not into high maintenance women and their matching umbrellas/purses.

Girls in therapy are so sexy.

Life: Best Of...

I am that guy you're looking for (unless you're really religious in which case I'm just the guy you wish was religious).

5'10" Jew. Keep reading.

I should mention that I'm only about 55% Jewish, most of it coming from my dad's side.

I am looking for a dream hybrid of Kate Winslet (or Natalie Portman, as long as we're talking Jewish girls) and Eleanor Roosevelt.

Let's hop on my Harley for a wild ride to the synagogue.

My culture and identity have become evermore important, and I want to celebrate it, in all it's glory and neuroses, with the right woman.

I have surpassed my Shiksa quota, and I need to register before my mother does it for me.

a jewish girl would be nice, but at the rate its going with u nyc birds, in the future there's gonna be more rigatoni focaccia on my plate instead of chopped liver.