Arts & Crafts

Dreaming of a beautiful 2010: larger than life, taking on the world (big cities, small towns), writing our own fairytales, resting our feet on cushions made of peonies and cotton candy. Happy New Year!

Hello, Brooklyn

November is:

1. This photograph
2. Satin ballet slippers
3. Co-ed reading parties
4. Baking cupcakes with ten year-olds
5. Au Revoir Simone
6. Homemade chicken noodle soup
7. Dreaming of New York
8. Living happily in California
9. Bright coral red lipstick
10. Icy cold nights filled with shooting stars

And you are starry, starry, starry...

Follow me to the land of lovely...

What can I say about Garance Dore (garancedore.fr) except that to a girl like me this blog is a dream come true. A friend of mine told me about the site several months ago, and since then I've checked in daily to see what's new in the land of lovely. The whimsical french illustrator travels the world over with a camera and sketch pad, capturing the sweetest things in life: beautiful photographs of fashionable passersby, miniature interviews with her adored (and coincidentally also fashionable) friends, and her fantastic illustrations (which I have found quite inspiring). When I look at things through her eyes I'm lead to believe that there really is a world where we all live enchanted, sunday afternoon cafe lifestyles. The photos, the art work and the translated text (which is quirky, upbeat, and delightful) take me to another place entirely. Yes, in this place we all move breezily through the city streets of Paris and New York on Holland bikes and beach cruisers while wearing pouty skirts and high-high heels. We always have a bundle of tulips in our bicycle baskets and we're forever be on our way to meet a friend, or a lover, or to a gorgeous outdoor market. Needless to say this site provides me with my morning dose of charm, and then some. Oh, delicious charm.

We'll stop here along the way...

TVC 15

I Was Told There'd Be Cake

Sloane Crosley has been compared to David Sedaris and other masters of quick witted scoundral-ism ever since the release of I Was Told There’d Be Cake last year. I was wary of this diagnosis, as I believe Sedaris to be a genius who I would follow to the ends of the earth (have you ever heard him read his own work on public radio? Ah-mazing!). I did, however, come to develop a special place in my heart for this new, critically acclaimed author.
Crosley is perfectly unselfconscious and even somewhat narcissistic in her writing style. Her stories are seen solely through her eyes, filtered exclusively through her quirky interpretations, and yet somehow they bare a startling resemblance to pieces of our own experiences. Her observations are often a little dark and always a lot funny, and there is a suburban quality to her work that I particularly like (one that reminds me of ho-hum afternoons spent listening to the squeak of empty swing sets swaying over deserted tanbark playgrounds-- does anyone else have this memory?). It is here in the day-to-day that the author finds these lovely poignant moments, the ones that are so special because we've all had them, even if we could not articulate them. In a style that is brilliantly plain and clever Crosley tells the stories we all wish we knew how to tell-- stories of our families, of where we grew up, of who we are, of who we wish we were, and of the plans we've made for our unborn Flemish children. With all this wit there is nothing left for one to do than laugh, reflect, and eagerly read on. It is my humble opinion that Ms. Crosley deserves all the praise she has received.

I've seen love go by my door

Yes, Sir!

I would have to say that the east coast equivalent of House of Hengst would have to be, in my eyes at least, Brooklyn's own Sir. Located on both Atlantic Avenue, in what real estate agents might call "Brooklyn Heights", and on Bedford Ave., in the heart of hipsterville (eh hem, I mean williamsburg), Sir is another carefully constructed collection of vintage-inspired clothing being manufactured on a small scale with craft and beauty. The line's designer, Joanna Baum, describes her pieces as having "Parisian sensibilities" and a “pretty, roughed-up look”, which to me sounds just about perfect. Gauzy, sexy, sheer, sophisticated and all with a touch of vixen is what I see whenever I stop into the Atlantic Ave. shop (which is frequently, as it is just around the corner from my house). I imagine Baum's pieces to be wearable either to the office or, with a touch of ruby-red lipstick, out for drinks in the later hours. More so, they are perfect if you want to go for a slightly more worldly version of Maggie Gyllenhaal's look in Secretary. Which, coincidentally, I do. Now, where did I put that pencil skirt?

Don't wait too long

House of perfection

It may be old news to some, but I just couldn't fight the urge to write about one of San Francisco's star boutiques, House of Hengst. Though the studio and it's owner (the ever lovely Ms. Susan Hengst) have been a favorite of mine for years, I am continually surprised and delighted by each new collection, and Spring/Summer 09 is no exception. Having been in the Mission street flagship store just last week on a whirlwind San Francisco trip, I was once again wowed by the vintage-inspired creations of Ms. Hengst. The fluid and fabulous 70's inspired dresses and jumpsuits, the high waisted jeans, and the dreamy comfy lounge wear are all hallmarks of a line that is truly unigue and diverse. Some of the pieces are more akin to lounge wear and come in lovely neutral colors. Other styles are more slinky-sexy and fashion-forward, and still others are 100% modern classics (think Audrey Hepburn inspired poufy silk dresses). You can't go wrong here- whatever piece you choose is bound to become a favorite for years to come. The fact that the studio actually makes the clothes on location, and that the decor is made of ever-rotating artists’ creations, makes this indie boutique more of a gallery than anything else. Both the clothing and the atmosphere are truly works of art. Though the designer has relocated to Manhattan (hurray!) in the past few years, she can often be found checking in on her SF studio, no doubt whipping up brilliant creations for next season's wonderful collection.

Sparkle, shine, and glow

The 4th is just a little less than a month away and I'm already think-think-thinking about how I will spend it. Where will I be? New York or California? Will I see the sky light up from the beaches in the west or from the banks of the east river in the east? Maybe, if I can't decide, I'll be sure to be on a plane that night. That way, when it comes to fireworks, I can have it all. I'll watch them from above, all the way from one side of the U.S. to the other. And you? Where will you be? On a roof top? A barge? With friends? Alone? In bed, with your head safely buried under the covers? Let's not celebrate our independence independently. It's never too early to start planning when sparklers are involved.

Oh how I've missed you so

Just like honey

Skeleton me: It's about to get hot, take solace in September

I know I said I like to try and stay present, zen-like, about fashion. It's almost summer, let's stay in the moment. Let's be here now. Let's dream of what we'll wear when we seep out in the wicked humidity to grab an italian ice, rather than pine for next season's lovables. But then I saw Burberry Prorsum's fall 2009 line and decided I could skip right over all of that.
As far as I can tell this autumn is going to be a total hunk. Prince-charming style. Burberry has got the white floaty dresses like our dear Isabel Marant, but paired with grey tights, clunky boots, and chunky knit scarves that keep warm what the lightweight frocks cannot. Oh fall, when I'm not frozen into a wardrobe-rut or baking into a melted mess, how I love thee. As much as I enjoy the haze of summer, I thrive in the crispness of the later parts of the year. Throwing on extra layers and getting that "all tucked in" feeling just does it for the northern Californian in me. (Sigh)
But back to today, back to Brooklyn: If you're looking for summer shoes, Marais USA (see below) has got some adorable suede and/or patent flats, sandals and heels in poppy summer colors. Though I'm a fall girl through and through, I just ordered myself a pair in an attempt to keep my feet on the ground. Seasonally, anyway.

Head in the clouds

In my dreams...

...the summer looks and feels like this- and it goes on and on and on, without ever getting too hot or too humid or too anything.
"Most days I wish I was a British pound coin instead of an African girl. Everyone would be pleased to see me coming. Maybe I would visit with you for the weekend and then suddenly, because I am fickle like that, I would visit with the man from the corner shop instead-- but you would not be sad because you would be eating a cinnamon bun, or drinking a cold coca-cola from the can, and you would never think of me again. We would be happy, like lovers who met on holiday and forgot each other's names."

Why the long face?

I Heart Bill Cunningham

Fine. I'll admit it. I watch the audio slide show "On the Street with Bill Cunningham" first thing every Sunday morning. I've been timid about sharing this bit of information because I've been afraid that in doing so I might inadvertently reveal a great secret of mine; one that only a few in my inner circle know. You see, on Sundays, when I open the New York Times (be it in print or online) I skip right over World News and Arts and read: the Style section..... First.
And one of the many reasons I do this is because I have grown to just plain love Bill Cunningham. I adore him as if he were my super fashion-savvy, Reebok-wearing, couture-loving grandfather. Not only do I admire the way he zips through the city streets on what seems to be a super sleek Dutch bicycle (not pictured here), or the way he always has his camera on hand, ready to capture people in their most stylish (or interesting/awful) get-ups. There's more to it than that. What makes me a true fan of Mr. Cunningham is the sincere enthusiasm (bordering on childlike wonder) that he has for his most simple observations. When he notices a whole slew of upper east side women starting to wear coats in November (because it's cold), or that ice and slush are forming puddles and snowbanks curbside in January (because they do) and that this is causing pedestrians to have to (gasp!) step over them, he reports these facts as though they were the most cutting-edge, thought provoking perceptions one could make. In today's piece he reported on skirts with "swooshy flair" for a full three minutes, and then ended by encouraging his viewers to indulge in a skirt that's "a bit sassy, sagacious, and that will maybe cause a little comment", while laughing sweetly all the while. From the sound of him, Mr. Cunningham seems to see the world through new eyes, with a playfulness that makes even the most obvious, the most dull, or the most obsolete trend seem like a delight to observe and ponder. And despite being highly regarded by the highest in high fashion, I have read that he is very down to earth. He seems to enjoy fashion without getting too caught-up in it or taking it too seriously. He just peddles his bicycle around town, happily capturing his wonderment snap shots. This all adds up to him coming across as someone who truly, and lightheartedly, loves what he does. With his sincerity and instinctual whimsicality, my coffee cup and I just keep coming back for more each Sunday morning. First thing.

Little Bee

"In a few breaths' time I will speak some sad words to you. But you must hear them the same way we have agreed to see scars now. Sad words are just another beauty. A sad story means, this storyteller is alive. The next thing you know, something fine will happen to her, something marvelous, and then she will turn around and smile."

-C. Cleave, Little Bee

Photograph for today

Les Chansons D'Amour

Take a drizzly Parisian background, a young, quintessentially beautiful french couple (Louis Garrel and Ludivine Sagnier), create a love triangle that manages to be both steamy and blase all at once, throw in a dialogue expressed almost entirely in song, and there you have it: either the worst movie you will ever see, or you new super-favorite. I loved it of course, but I'm hopeless when it comes to blue love stories, bizarre plot twists, beautiful art direction, and so on. And, of course, anything in the tradition of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (Jaques Demy; 1968) is guaranteed to win over a certain breed of film lover. Me? Hopeless, I tell you. Absolutely hopeless. But I encourage you to have a look for yourself and then tell me, or sing me, what you think.

One sugar or two?

Keep me in mind

We could talk about Jean Arp, we could talk about David Shrigley, and surely we could sing the praises of Henry Darger all night long, but why not discuss a lesser-known artist? How about someone fantastic and unique and not quite so lime-lit? How about the lovely work of Donald Mitchell? (See above.)
It was through Creative Growth (an art center in Oakland, Ca. dedicated to providing top-notch materials, instruction, and exhibition/promotion opportunities to artists with disabilities) that I first learned of Mr. Mitchell. I don't know much about him personally, but from what I understand Mitchell's work has made a profound change over the years. His early pieces at CG consisted primarily of what his mentors and critics refer to as "obsessively crosshatched fields of lines". These lines would cover the entire page in a stressed, chaotic fashion and hide any trace of underlying images from the inquisitive observer. Perhaps there was a secret picture beneath the picture? A story within a story? Then, several years ago, Mr. Mitchell started to bring to light the faces and forms that he had buried beneath the lines on the page, and when he did he revealed curious figures that, to me, are a wonderful representation of dark and light, playfulness and tension. They are oddly sweet, like something that might hang in a nursery, but they also feel like they express an intriguing social commentary: a world of similar figures all stacked on top of each other, with each thinking "Hey- you're on my head". Now, after all these years, his trademark has become what his proponents call "a tightly composed, graphically sophisticated page of crowded figures". I find them enchanting up close, beautiful from afar, and his process definitely worth contemplating. No longer on the lesser-known list, Mitchell exhibited his work in 2007 at Gavin Brown’s enterprise, New York, and ABCD, Paris. I remain a devout fan of Donald Mitchell for the hidden treasure of his artistry, and of Creative Growth for their dedication to encouraging and supporting the arts for all.

Mine That Bird

Dreamy, dreamy

I know, I know- The runway shows are always a season ahead. And I, too, love to look forward to the nubby scarves and ankle boots of autumns to come, but not when it's 83 degrees outside. There's something about admiring spring lines in the spring that makes me much happier. It also seems to make a bit more sense, non? So who better to start off my list of this season's lovables than the star of urban chic, Isabel Marant. This collection is, as all her collections are, a seamless dream come true. Floating lacy tops, short-short-short shorts, and silky slip-style dresses (with a little something extra) are all pretty much...well, perfect- without being too soft. My favorite places to indulge in these delicacies? On the west coast it's Nida in Hayes Valley, and in my neck of the woods (Brooklyn) it's all about Bird.

Photograph for today

We could make such beautiful music together

"The couple that prays together, stays together." To each their own when it comes to that particular platitude. Perhaps the old adage should be "the couple that sings together, stays together," or at very least they produce some wildly successful "hymns" in the sphere of pop music. This type of symbiosis is obviously not a new concept in the art world. Even without popular music being the area of one's expertise, most can rattle off the names of at least a few lovebirds who have crooned together quite memorably. Looking back just at the sensations that were John and Yoko, Gainsbourg and Birkin, and Cash and Carter lends one to believe there is a certain magic in the collaboration of two highly talented and romantically entwined artists.

It should come as no surprise that this tradition continues with lesser-known indie bands such as Little Joy, The Bowerbirds and The Rosebuds, who have all recently  emerged and serenaded us with their creative chemistry. Collaborating creatively with one's better half may just be one of the best old ideas musicians have had. Be the artists lovers or just dear friends, working together appears to be a very simple and key ingredient in creating some of the most lovable music our time. Musicians and sweethearts, take note.

Like this:

Falling softly

If you have not had the pleasure of experiencing the lovely mixed media works of Isca Greenfield-Sanders then I would say there is no better time than now (See above).
The artist, daughter of the legendary photographer Timothy Greenfield, has made much of her work from anonymous vintage photographs that she has collected over the years. Applying her mathematical skills (she majored in both mathematics and painting) she uses watercolors and pencils to makes tiny tiles that when pieced together equal the sum of the painting. She then creates whimsical slices of hazy poolside memories, summers long ago, gentle beach scenes, and my personal favorites: parachutes falling sweetly from the sky.

Drawing

83 degrees. Cher chou-chou, I drew this for you. One handed.

Les Chansons de Barbara

Perhaps I've come a bit late to the party, but recently I've been enchanted by the late French chanteuse, Barbara. The song, Ce Matin-La (1963), in particular is such a beautiful and haunting tune that it inspired me to learn a bit more about this lesser known, melancholic singer. So, being the inquisitive Francophile that I am, I did a little research and found that Barbara (given name Monique Serf) was a bit of a left bank darling in the late 1950's.
 A poet, musician and artist in her own right, Barbara had joined French legends such as Edith Piaf and Juliette Greco by the tender age of twenty-seven. She was a stunning presence on stage (reportedly raven haired, lanky and hypnotic in her hymns), and she created art as sensitive and passionate as she was rumored to have been. She sang mostly of lost love and heartache, and always with a honeyed charm that made her music sweetly nostalgic in a way that stands the test of time. Sometimes moody, sometimes poppy, but always a joy to listen to, I like to think of her as a slightly shadowy and obscure Audrey Hepburn-esque beauty with a voice all her own. 

Taken from a web of dreams and memories you may have had. Captured dearly by Mark Borthwick.