November 16, 2011
8:35 am

On my way to a photo shoot on Shelter Island,
I absent mindedly missed the turn-off to the ferry
and found myself at Long Beach.


The view from outside my new painting studio: chicken coop and hoop house at Roger's farm in Watermill, NY. Early evening with moon high in sky.

My studio is an old converted chicken coop itself, with exposed everything and Southern light. It is, in fact, the same building where my father started his woodworking business 30 years ago, though found by fortuitous independent circumstances in late August.

Meant to be or simply luck? Either way I'm over the moon to be here!


1. While shopping at Saks for a Pantone color project for recently, I came across the nail varnish color Péridot at the Chanel counter. Immediate obsession stemming from fantasy hybrid tin man/sexy alien costume I dreamed up a few years back, piggy backed by intense feeling for the mineral Pyrite as of late. Go figure. Sounds complicated, but it all adds up to awesome.

2. Pyrite/Lucite cuff found on same shopping mission at aforementioned antique dealers
Robert E. Kinneman & Brian A. Ramaekers Inc. in Bridgehampton, NY. My hometown BTW.

3. Pyrite encrusted Ammonite.

I have no idea why this proclivity towards the "fools gold" has taken hold of my visual senses though I've done some research regarding the subject and have come across a few sources linking the mineral to sensitivity, intuition, and logic. A clear precision, juxtaposed with random order, illustrated by the delicate architectural forms of the stone, joined as if tossed together haphazardly. It is believed if one meditates with the stone, ideas (intuition, creativity, random connection) are more likely born on a physical plane (logic, precision, order).

hmmm... !!!


Lucite jewelry at Robert E. Kinneman & Brian A. Ramaekers Inc. Antiques. Bridgehampton, NY.


1. fuckyeahalters
2. Shot I took of the entrance of the Fred French building at 551 5th Ave. Gorgeously ornate example of the Art Deco influence.


Ooh ah. So fresh and so clean. Perfect for today. This picture exemplifies the simple harmony that I am willing my apartment to metamorphosize (perhaps not a word...) into. It (the apartment that is) is slowly and surely taking on a life of its own that makes me smile, on the inside. Burn baby, burn.


The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second best time is now.

-African Proverb


If, perchance, I find myself holed up here this winter, with a few good books, a few good friends, and a pair of warm slippers, I would not be disappointed.


Just found these Grid Vases by Jaime Hayon and they have instantly become objects of DESIRE. They also remind me of a recently acquired Knoll Bertoia chair (thrift shop for $15. SCORE.) that I fall hard for every time I see it casually pulled up to my 1920's German deco desk. Photos coming of aforementioned situation not so soon.

Blown apart Bug. Wowza, love this!
Artist: Damien Ortega


I molded a mound of moss over the weekend.
Et Voila!
a petite garden of green.


This jacket doesn't actually exist... but I wish it did! Digital photo stills superimposed on parkas. HERE.


What an incredible collection of titles and colors, perhaps what one might find decorating the bookshelves of Wes Anderson's abode... or mine for that matter. Why of course, why wouldn't Farm Animals be shelved next to Wild Animals in the red section, and Butterflies next to Aircraft in the blue ? When I witness this sort of logic, my faith in the genius of humanity feels all minty fresh and sparkly clean.


Today is a day for the blues: Muddy Waters and Nina Simone are on a lazy spin through the aural dominion of my new abode. Slow cold drip coffee is seducing the frontal lobe of my brain with visions of varying shades of cerulean, thalo, and cobalt. A dive into a deep and frigidly cold body of water is impending. Too bad there are no waterfalls in the near vicinity. Today would be a day for waterfalls if there were any close by. If you have one to splash in, I suggest you do, today.


A few recent gems.

Fresh Fruit

Sometimes it seems that life's upheavals are relentless, and the odds and ends of existence keep scattering to the wind. Then, one day, you start to notice a pattern, a coalescing of sorts, a quickening of the nest, and it dawns on you in a very real way that without the disintegration inherent in Chaos there would be no room for what comes next. New life needs space to breathe. The challenge comes in letting the space BE.

I started painting last weekend and am in love. This is the first of many to come. A Bosc.


I am always delighted when I happen upon people who find the delicacy and balance of skeletons to be as fascinating as I do - This Japanese artist and former fisherman, Lori Tomita's dye injected specimens reveal in lurid detail the beautiful intricacy of organic structure. Pink never looked so swimmingly scientific !


This Saturday morning has been surprisingly wonderful. The wonder can be attributed to two things: 1. a funny little yard sale I stopped at on the way to work, where I found a blue penguin print polo shirt from the 50's that is just my size for $1, Oh joy! and 2. the farmers market across the street from my office that is only open on Saturday's. In this farmer's market I discovered some extremely luscious vegetables, and some delicious farmers. With all this attractive freshness I've been inspired to do a post on farmer's market food and fashion, but this will have to wait till next weekend as I forgot my camera today.

On the topic of Pink I would like to express my regard for the genius of Nars, in particular, the nail varnish color Bohemia. This is a new/old discovery for me, because, though I've been using this color on my fingers for a couple of years already, i have just discovered that if put on the toes and weathered for a week or two in the sand and the sun and whatever else one does with one's feet to get them a bit roughed up, then the varnish starts to fade and wear a bit thin and the most gorgeous patina comes through! Matte opalescence is proving to be far more stimulating to my consciousness than ever imagined. Life's private delights are all in the details, really.

There is one more secret summer delight that I'd like to share with you. It's called the Tate's Iced Latte. Here's the breakdown. It's an iced latte, but... they steam and froth the milk before pouring it over the ice so it's a wee bit warm and foamy and a way bit delicioso. The other part that makes my day, is that Tate's only offers one size. And it's a size large. Not having a choice in the matter is almost as refreshing as that first sip.


DAILY AFFLICTION: The agony of being connected to everything in the universe.
Andrew Boyd

I happened upon this little treasure of a book last night while roaming the wild streets of Sag Harbor with the one and only Rachael Faraone, world's greatest perspectifier, self proclaimed flaming clown, and talented legal jargon orater. Anyhoo, this book is rocking my world, mostly because I've never heard my particular brand of ironic sincerity so aptly described and justified. Today I am sharing a particularly poignant passage with you, dear purveyors of brilliance. I do hope you enjoy.


If you're going through hell, keep going.
-Winston Churchill

Meaningful personal growth rarely occurs without anguish, crisis, and loss. Maybe you're in a dead-end relationship or haven't come out to your parents. Or maybe you've got a secure job but always wanted to make it on your own. You need to change your life. But you're not going to make a move till things get a lot worse. In such a state, the only way forward is deeper into crisis.

Pushing yourself deeper into crisis is never easy. After all, it's only natural to resist permanent damage to your identity. But if you can bludgeon your resistance into submission, you can reach the point of no return. Past this point, you are fully committed to the crisis. With no way back, your once-idle doubts and speculations must crystallize into desperate convictions. With your consciousness polarized into a brawl of warring factions, your choices will at last lie clearly and unforgivingly before you.

The deeper my crisis, the clearer my choices.


The Herman Miller Aeron chair was generously given to me as a gift a few years back. Bulky and techy looking, it was slow to grow on me... i believe I compared it's transformer like appendages to those of a tarantula. I gave it back to the gift giver at one point, claiming it did not resonate with my naturally spare aesthetic. A few months later, my behind at odds with a naturally spare and agonizingly uncomfortable sorry excuse for a chair, I surreptitiously reclaimed The Aeron. It is clear to me now, there is more here than meets the eye.

I apologize to you, Aeron Chair, for ever doubting your taught techiness and arachnic functionality. My physiology would like to thank you for standing by and never judging the fickle tendencies an ever evolving aesthetic Goldilocks. A parting thought though: perhaps Mr. Miller, you would consider offering a florid pinkish version of The Aeron chair to the masses. It could be the Pepto Bismol of designer office chairs.
Nothing like a little chemical colored sugar to help the medicine go down. (Said with only the slightest hint of irony.)