In the House

Emily and I have both been working a lot and/or had family in town, and haven't had a chance lately to get out and walk around the city together—so it was really nice to kick off the weekend with a leisurely brunch at Jones (always uncrowded in the summer) and some quick art and design appreciation for as long as we could handle cutting the 100º concrete.

On the way from the subway to Jones we stopped by Posteritati, one of the best purveyors of vintage movie posters in the city. They have a searchable online database. Go nuts here.

Next on the agenda was a trip to the venerable Madame Paulette, the best cleaner and tailor in the city, at least if you take the Met's word for it (Paulette handles all that stuff for the Costume Institute).

The cost is a little prohibitive for day-to-day stuff, but if you ever need some serious cleaning or tailoring, that's the spot. You know when a vinyl-covered bench in a bar gets torn, and they fix it with electrical tape, but then the tape gets gross and they remove it—and then there's that sticky black stuff on the vinyl? Madame Paulette had to be called into action because Emily got that on a cream-colored skirt Thursday night.

After that we slouched toward MoMA for the pre-fab preview. It was so hot out, I couldn't believe it. On the way we checked out this installation of big painted bronze figures (including Hello, Kitty) by Tom Sachs, in the courtyard of Lever House. They all have fountains coming out of their eyes.

Here's a photo by Genevieve Hanson of Sachs sitting on one of his works in progress, from a recent article in The New York Times.

Lever House is a really beautiful building, I want to spend some more time there. More about that later.

Then it was on to MoMA for the new show, Home Delivery: Fabricating the Modern Dwelling. Definitely check out the website, there's a ton of information, video, and more pictures there.

The exhibition is in two parts, with renderings, models, and material studies on the sixth floor, and actual pre-fab houses set up in the empty lot between 53rd and 54th streets. To me it seemed like there were some notable exclusions, but in terms of being a cross-section of the most cutting-edge/avant-garde developments in the history and future of pre-fab, it was a great show.

This little metal house was pretty amazing. I can't see spending much time inside it, but the amount of functionality they fit into a tiny space is crazy. There's a bed, a table that seats four and doubles as a desk, a kitchen, and a bathroom—and a little deck with room enough for a few chairs. The whole thing is solar powered.

I liked this one the most. The main thing that interests me about pre-fab houses is the idea of getting the most usability/livability out of the least amount of space possible. There are of course many other interesting things about pre-fabrication, but that's just what I'm into—I guess it appeals to the organizational freak in me. This house is aesthetically attractive, highly functional, and relatively small—but not so small that it would feel cramped. In the picture below you can see there's a stairway leading up to a roof deck. It would be pretty sweet to have a place like this in the San Juans or the North Cascades.

One last point though. Obviously the focus of a show at the MoMA should not be How to Make Pre-Fab Attractive to Mainstream America, and that's not even necessarily the focus of architects working on these types of houses. Regardless, relating the work to my own potential needs, I came away with a feeling that overall there's still a lot to be done toward making pre-fab houses relaxing and comfortable as real homes. Any casual reader of this run-on sentence of a blog knows I am a huge proponent of minimal, modern design—but at what point do you feel like you're living in an office? Fairly subtle moves with color and material would go a long way toward finding a balance between design and real human experience.

Seriously though, I just made all that stuff up, I don't really know what I'm talking about.

The show is up through October 20th. Go check it out and tell me what you think.

After MoMA, we went home, cranked the air conditioner and watched Superbad on Starz in a prone position. Then we drank some micheladas and BBQ'd in the backyard. There were tons of fireflies and our burgers and wieners were delicious, The End.

Just a reminder.

The way he sampled the high-hat... as good an argument as any that Jay Dee was the best.

Watercolors Into the Ocean

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This show at Yossi Milo has been blogged about quite a bit already, but I'm really psyched about it, so here it is. Photographer Asako Narahashi takes pictures with her camera close to the water or half-submerged, and what results—aside from beautiful images with really amazing colors—is that unique combination of relaxation and fright that comes with swimming in open water.

I am a terrible swimmer, always have been, but that hasn't stopped me from spending as much time as possible on or near the water. I used to guide kayak trips in the San Juan Islands and there is nothing more calming than gliding silently through the waves. I'm looking forward to doing some more of that soon.

Asako Narahashi's Half Awake and Half Asleep In the Water is up through August 22nd at Yossi Milo Gallery (525 West 25th Street, NYC). See more of her work here.

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Bonus. Chris Watson, formerly of Cabaret Voltaire, now a specialist in recording wildlife and nautre, contributed this field recording of water to the Visionaire Sound issue. Telegraph Cove is at the North end of Vancouver Island, British Columbia.

Chris Watson Telegraph Cove At Night MP3
from Visionaire 53: Sound, available at visionaireworld.com

The Space Between People

I'm looking forward to reading this book. This coming Sunday's New York Times Magazine will preview it, and David Carr's website has some interesting video interviews with the people who figure into his story.

Stay-cation, bro.

Trash Talk

Last Saturday we went up to Harriman State Park, the second largest state park in New York, named for the politician, businessman, horse racer, and rich dude of yore Averell Harriman. There are 31 lakes in Harriman State Park.

It's only 30 miles North of the city but parts of it may as well be 300 miles away.

During the Revolutionary War, the Americans put a bunch of chains across the Hudson to stop British boats from coming up the river. It didn't work very well—the British captured the two forts you can sort of see in this picture, and terrorized the Hudson valley with their guns and funny talk and pretty red jackets.

Evidence of beavers.

Evidence of jerks.

"When I was a kid...." No, but seriously, when I was a kid, it was not cool to litter. Kids would actually tell other kids not to do it. I remember this one dude actually caught kind of a severe beat down on the playground for throwing his corndog stick on the ground—and it was made of wood. This manner of cleanliness and stewardship of the land (or...playground) was clearly not observed by many in the Northeast, as it often seems the city and the countryside around it are like a gigantic spread-out landfill. I once saw a family in Park Slope—a mom, a dad, and two boys—walking along the sidewalk, all drinking Big Gulps. When they got near their car, the dad said "Everyone get rid of your drinks, no drinks in the car." All four people in this dirty dirty family threw their Big Gulps on the ground, got in the car, and left. That is gross and it's just bad manners.

That's all I have to say about that.

Take Off

The New York Times has an article today on the North Cascades Highway, and videos to go with it on their website. William Yardley and photographer Stuart Issett took a trip across SR20, comparing and contrasting their experience with the North Cascades described in this Works Progress Administration guide book from the 1930s:

The WPA's Federal Writers' Project sent photographers and writers (including people such as Eudora Welty, Zora Neale Hurston, and Saul Bellow) around the country to experience and describe the states, and published books on each. Inspired by that, the Times is doing its own roadtrip series this summer. Wyoming is next.

Click here to check out the North Cascades.

I see your vision mama,I put my money on the long shots

On Friday afternoon my brother and my dad and I took the LIRR deep into Queens for a day at Belmont, with refreshments and 6-foot subs courtesy of the FDNY Engine 3, Ladder 12.

I came close a few times but in the end I didn't win anything. After playing it safe for the first two races and coming away with nothing, I decided to go for the longest of the long shots the rest of the time, just because, why not. That didn't pay off either. No matter, it was fun as heck.

The guys from my brother's firehouse brought these huge coolers full of beer and staked a place out in the backyard, where the recreational race fans all hang out between races.

The people-watching is amazing. This group of fans was particularly fun to talk to—they were having a grand old time hanging out in the yard and speculating on the ponies.

The super hardcore bettors often stay inside, studying their racing forms like their lives depend on it. They don't even watch the races half the time. You can bet as little as a dime so things get a little dire.

This was the most interesting race. One of the horses scratched before the race, because as he was walking onto the track he went nuts, bucked his rider and took off. If you click to enlarge, you can see that another horse lost its jockey on the other side of the track, and finished second.

The facilities are super old school—no fancy remodeling needed, thank you.

There are posters of all the great horses and trainers lining the walls.

I liked watching the people who work there. I bet these three groundskeepers have an interesting time, walking around filling divots and shooting the shit. I'm sure it doesn't pay well or anything but there are worse jobs out there, for sure.

When we left, we climbed up on the roof of the train station and walked around.

Even having done it many times, riding the train is always exciting to me. Improving and expanding the railways should be a top priority right now, but is unfortunately, and predictably, running into all kinds of complications.

We had our own complications leaving the track, when we realized we were about three hours early for the next train—so we bussed it to the very end of the F line in Jamaica, and rode the subway all the way back.

Being that far out in any of the boroughs makes you realize how gigantic New York City is. It still blows me away—the size and the density.

I'll be back at Belmont as soon as possible.

Sweet Young Thing Ain't Sweet No More

Unless you have been sleeping under a rock, re-living The Wackness, or endlessly obsessing on the veepstakes, you have probably heard that Sub Pop Records is celebrating its 20th anniversary this week. Friends and readers of this blog will recall that I am interested in the history, character and characters of the Northwest, and Sub Pop embodies that just as much as old Hank Yesler or Tiny Freeman or the Skid Road, or the houses of ill repute below it. Apparently, see above, there is actually a Sub Pop logo flag flying at the top of the Space Needle, which is painted to look like the their 7" record labels. I could go on, but instead I recommend pointing your browser toward the General Bonks for Sub Pop-related stories, videos, and unfettered genius in blog form. Here are a few choice quotes:

"I always liked that Bruce assigned a catalog number to his daughter Iris when she was born. It really stymied all the completists."

"The crazy economics of the time, economics that allowed penthouse space for a couple of self-proclaimed losers, were a big part of putting Seattle on the cultural map."

"Lots of hungry crazies would come in, mistaking the SUB POP for SUB SHOP. It was fun."


Happy birthday, Losers.

Mudhoney Sweet Young Thing Ain't Sweet No More mp3

The Dopeness

Emily and I also saw The Wackness last weekend (we saw a lot of movies last weekend).



I don't think it's going to go down as one of the most memorable films ever, but it's a great summer movie and worth seeing. Olivia Thirlby and Ben Kingsley are particularly good. Method Man shows his, um, range as a Jamaican drug dealer, but his accent is a little too perfect, and things get a little matchy-matchy when he pops in a tape of "The What," his own real-life collab with Biggie. Still, I was very entertained for two hours and The Wackness does a nice job of capturing the feeling of New York in 1994.

June of that year was the first time I ever came to New York City. I was really into hip-hop and I was dying to go to the New Music Seminar that summer—so for my graduation present, my parents pooled their money and bought me a plane ticket, an NMS badge, and a room at the YMCA on the Upper West Side for a week. I would very happily stay there again. The room was $38 a night, the showers down the hall were clean, I pretty much had the whole floor to myself, and it was fully air conditioned. That came in particularly handy, considering it was over 100º the entire time I was here. I saw a lady faint on the Second Avenue F platform, it was so hot.

I got to see tons of shows—the Gravediggaz' first release party, the infamous Supermen DJ and freestyle battles, Jeru with Group Home and Premier, a big showcase with KRS-One and a bunch of other people where Ol' Dirt McGirt kept rushing the stage—and best of all, the Rocksteady Crew's anniversary party up at Rocksteady Park, where among tons of other good performances, Mad Skillz reprised his legendary freestyle from Stretch & Bobbito's radio show, and the crowd went freaking NUTS. I went to Fat Beats on the first day it opened on East 9th Street and maxed my credit card, picking up tons of stuff that was impossible to find in Seattle. I ate breakfast at the Carnegie Deli almost every day, on my way to the Seminar. I walked everywhere and when I couldn't take the heat anymore, I rode the subway to different parts of Brooklyn or Queens or Uptown, and walked around more. It was mind-blowing and I knew I would have to live here someday.

KRS-One Hip Hop Vs. Rap MP3
Mad Skillz & Q-Tip Freestyle (from WKCR 89-tek-9, April 94) MP3

Straight Six

Wooooo no.6 is on the way! We're about to copy edit the last interviews, and Andre is designing the magazine as I type. I don't know how ol' Crombie does it—every issue outdoes the one before it. I can't disclose the contents at this time but suffice it to say that they will make you feel free, like the wind, like you want to get on your steed and just ride, like the young warrior pictured above. Stay tuned right here and to Wooooomag.com for updates.

Unrelated clever blog title reference no.98997:
The Mountain Goats Straight Six mp3
(Sub Pop Singles Club, November 2001)

Party and Bullsh*t

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My bud Byron has a new band and they're playing their first show tonight—quickly, loudly, and with questionable ability. It's on at 8pm, at Club Europa...must be Polish. 98 Meserole Ave at Manhattan Avenue. I will not be in attendance as my dad is getting into town today, but I guarantee it will kick ace and I recommend it. Also on the bill is Pink Reason, Talibam, and Seattle's own PWRFL POWER, who is to music as Eagle vs. Shark is to movies.



PWRFL POWER Alma Song mp3

The Battle of Evermore

We interrupt the steady barrage of design, fashion, art direction and high-speed camping to bring you this brief acknowledgment of weightier issues. In this week's New Yorker, Seymour Hersh has another ultra-informative/ultra-spooky article on the administration's secret operations against Iran. Read "Preparing the Battlefield" here and/or listen to an audio interview with Hersh here.

For a short history of our involvement in Iran (with a nice running start that gives you some background on Iranian history) I recommend Stephen Kinzer's book All the Shah's Men.

Talkin' New York

This week's issue of New York features a series of articles on the magazine's founder, Clay Felker, who passed away last week. One of them is written by Felker's first employee, Tom Wolfe. There are also comments from, among others, Felker's wife Gail Sheehy and former New York staffers Pete Hamill, Gore Vidal, and Gloria Steinem (Felker financed the first issue of Ms. magazine). Former New York editor Kurt Andersen also has an interesting piece.

I never really knew anything about Clay Felker before I read the Times' obit, but reading about him this week has been an eye-opening, fascinating crash course in how the magazine got started—how any magazine gets started—and how much New York has shaped magazine publishing since. Andersen writes that "Probably all outsiders (if they are, in [E.B.] White's genius phrase, 'willing to be lucky') mentally compile a New York City field guide and playbook when they're in their twenties and thirties, but Felker did so literally, and published it in weekly serial form." On the art direction tip, there's this little nugget from Milton Glaser, New York's founding design director: "We tried to design a magazine that you could understand completely in ten minutes just by flipping through the pages and using those overarching heads that we always had, and those subheads that sort of explained things."

I'm still kind of processing the whole thing, but it's ultra-inspiring and I recommend checking it out if you're obsessed with magazines, as I am. The whole thing is online, but do yourself a favor, head for the newsstand and pick it up as it was meant to be read.

P.S. On thinking a little more about Felker's approach—Andersen calls it a mix between the descriptive (i.e., about people) and the prescriptive (i.e., about what people should buy or see or experience)—it seems odd to me that no one mentions fashion magazines such as Vogue and Harper's Bazaar, (or even Vanity Fair, on some level) which had been publishing that mix themselves before New York. They were probably considered fluff, or with a more limited audience, though, and what Felker did was something like that approach, but mixing in "harder hitting" reportage and literary sensibilities, changing the fashion to status, and giving it some ritalin and locality.

Still processing...

Book It

At long last, this baby is headed for the printer. Should be in stores early next month.

Wonderful, Wonderful, Wonderful

On a lazy Fourth of July afternoon we finally had a chance to dig into our our Netflix and watch Haskell Wexler's Medium Cool (1969, trailer above, check it out). It stars Robert Forster as a cameraman in Chicago who meets a single mother, played by Verna Bloom (who you might know from such roles as the boozily scorching Mrs. Dean Wormer in Animal House). Forster's character covers various local news events and eventually the 1968 Chicago Democratic Convention, and the story is intertwined with actual footage of that and the riots that went with it. It's a visually beautiful film—one of those, like Easy Rider or Cool Hand Luke or Killer of Sheep that makes you love and hate your country in a really melancholic, mixed-up way. (Trying to explain things like this makes it clear I am not a writer... just trust me, it's good.)

Chicago blues-funk heroes Mike Bloomfield, Paul Butterfield and others provide a really stellar, psychedelic-Bullitt kind of score, with one interlude from the Mothers of Invention that I'm hoping I can find on vinyl some day.

The Voluptuous Horror

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Last night we watched Burnt Offerings (1976, 116 minutes) on one of the second-tier Showtime channels—which is to say, one of the eleventh-tier movie channels.



The trailer makes it look scary, but trust me, this is a film remarkable only for its ability to sustain a protracted, utterly mediocre level of terror. The second-to-last minute is thoroughly chilling, mainly because you've wanted to be scared for the previous 114 minutes, and because you knew Karen Black was a total weirdo and were wondering what the hell was going on behind her weirdo eyes. Then the credits come. You've been through a trying experience, and you feel oddly satisfied that it's over.

After that, we watched Factotum, an adaptation of the highly esteemed Charles Bukowski novel, starring Matt Dillon as the lovable Henry Chinaski, and Lili Taylor and Marisa Tomei as his special lady friends.



It was good, a worthy adaptation without having the budget to be a full period piece. Seemed like a good way to end a Fourth of July weekend.