08 May, 2009
14 April, 2009
Correspondence...
Apr 13 (1 day ago)
to josh, Jen, Suzanne, Sean, coral, Porter, pi_who, Peter
show details Apr 13 (1 day ago)
Favorite Art/Creative Magazines
I am working on the upcoming ISM: magazine. I will be sending out info on this special project within the next few weeks as we are attempting to orchestrate a limited edition printed book as well as a documentary film.
I would love it if you could email me a list of your favorite Art/Creative Magazines from around the world... (both in print and out of print, new and old)
Thanks bunches.
::
kevin
::
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply
Coral
to Kevin
show details 4:45 PM (4 hours ago)
Okay Kevin, here's a short list of my newest and all-time favorites, in no particular order.
-Coral
Interview-
Wow was Interview fresh... From the ultra close-up covers demanding your attention, to the huge format on that rough, inky paper and the unexpected celebrity pairings... This magazine was a powerhouse of inspiration for me when I was younger, not to mention a veritable breeding ground for celebrity-worship in our culture nowadays. These were not your run-of-the-mill interview questions, or subjects for that matter. Interview showed me that there was no "normal", and there need be no formula to follow in journalism. Nothing was off limits, nothing was sacred. It was definitely an early catalyst for starting my own zine and I'm sure the founders of many of today's gossip rags can say the same.
Gazette du Bon Ton-
My mother (and her grandmother before her) collected these beautiful magazines and kept them as treasured keepsakes for decades. I can remember sitting on the floor in my mom's dressing room and pouring over Bon Ton's 80/90 year old pages very very sloooowly, soaking in all of the brilliant Art Deco images (my first introduction to Erté) and the stunning lines and falling hems of post-Eduardian couture. As this magazine was only in print for about 12 years until the mid 20's, the oversized pages were frail as my grandmothers skin and brittle as dried leaves, but strong too. These pages had survived the Great Depression, the Great War, and the Great Changes of Fashion-through-Industrialization. And yet still, even now looking through them (when they're not under glass and frames), the writing is contemporary and the images iconic. Every fashion magazine I've encountered since has been somehow less-than... a knock off; constantly inspired by, but not quite living up to the magical quality of La Gazette du Bon Ton.
R-Kive-
Obviously not the best known of zines, but a great part of my life and a venture in writing/editing/guerilla-publishing that would help transform me from an awkward, self-alienating teen, to an awkward, self-alienating adult with minimal trauma and maximum awesomness. The zine introduced me to people and places that I had only seen in the glossy pages of Circus, Rolling Stone and Spin or heard about on MTV's little-known Sunday-at-midnight show "120 minutes". R-Kive was my sounding board, therapy session, and ticket out of small-town mentality; Along with many more like-minded zines of the time (Sourpuss, Girl Germs, Expansion of Life, and Spilt Milk come to mind), it was a turning point in my life and the most profound reason that I am who I am.
Swindle-
Shepard Fairey on Banksy... Need I say more? It's every wannabe graffiti nerd's wet dream. And the Icon issues? The photos alone are enough to make it worth the cover price, but on top of that the stories are short, sweet, to-the-point and yet provocative. Also it's fearless, and I love that. Who else can go from Philippe Starck to Billy Idol to the Space Invader, without coming off a schizophrenic mess? Somehow they pull it off and it's seamless. Of all the contemporary periodicals, Swindle is by far my favorite classic in the making. It's the one I see my son flipping through back-issues of ten years from now.
Metropolis-
Architecture porn. I'd say that since my first year of college I've had an architectural bug. Probably longer, but living in Austin and being far away from home for the first time- thinking that I had it all figured out, suddenly this great art form found me and it's had a very stronghold ever since. So I studied "Falling Water", Wright, Ando and Kahn... I knew the greats, I read the Digest, and later I got a subscription to Dwell. I was well versed in archi-nerd speak and could definitely hold my own in a conversation among laymen. Then one day a few years ago, my architect neighbor's mail was accidentally delivered to my door and among the crappy coupons and unpaid bills was a giant and beautiful magazine called "Metropolis: Architecture-Culture-Design". Ten minutes later, I had gone from Architecture-loving pseudo-intellectual to all out PHONY! I knew squat about anything! Metropolis opened my eyes and blew my mind. A week later I was visiting the Cal Poly admissions office picking through leaflets on their Master's program. And incidentally... the neighbor never got that issue.
to josh, Jen, Suzanne, Sean, coral, Porter, pi_who, Peter
show details Apr 13 (1 day ago)
Favorite Art/Creative Magazines
I am working on the upcoming ISM: magazine. I will be sending out info on this special project within the next few weeks as we are attempting to orchestrate a limited edition printed book as well as a documentary film.
I would love it if you could email me a list of your favorite Art/Creative Magazines from around the world... (both in print and out of print, new and old)
Thanks bunches.
::
kevin
::
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply
Coral
to Kevin
show details 4:45 PM (4 hours ago)
Okay Kevin, here's a short list of my newest and all-time favorites, in no particular order.
-Coral
Interview-
Wow was Interview fresh... From the ultra close-up covers demanding your attention, to the huge format on that rough, inky paper and the unexpected celebrity pairings... This magazine was a powerhouse of inspiration for me when I was younger, not to mention a veritable breeding ground for celebrity-worship in our culture nowadays. These were not your run-of-the-mill interview questions, or subjects for that matter. Interview showed me that there was no "normal", and there need be no formula to follow in journalism. Nothing was off limits, nothing was sacred. It was definitely an early catalyst for starting my own zine and I'm sure the founders of many of today's gossip rags can say the same.
Gazette du Bon Ton-
My mother (and her grandmother before her) collected these beautiful magazines and kept them as treasured keepsakes for decades. I can remember sitting on the floor in my mom's dressing room and pouring over Bon Ton's 80/90 year old pages very very sloooowly, soaking in all of the brilliant Art Deco images (my first introduction to Erté) and the stunning lines and falling hems of post-Eduardian couture. As this magazine was only in print for about 12 years until the mid 20's, the oversized pages were frail as my grandmothers skin and brittle as dried leaves, but strong too. These pages had survived the Great Depression, the Great War, and the Great Changes of Fashion-through-Industrialization. And yet still, even now looking through them (when they're not under glass and frames), the writing is contemporary and the images iconic. Every fashion magazine I've encountered since has been somehow less-than... a knock off; constantly inspired by, but not quite living up to the magical quality of La Gazette du Bon Ton.
R-Kive-
Obviously not the best known of zines, but a great part of my life and a venture in writing/editing/guerilla-publishing that would help transform me from an awkward, self-alienating teen, to an awkward, self-alienating adult with minimal trauma and maximum awesomness. The zine introduced me to people and places that I had only seen in the glossy pages of Circus, Rolling Stone and Spin or heard about on MTV's little-known Sunday-at-midnight show "120 minutes". R-Kive was my sounding board, therapy session, and ticket out of small-town mentality; Along with many more like-minded zines of the time (Sourpuss, Girl Germs, Expansion of Life, and Spilt Milk come to mind), it was a turning point in my life and the most profound reason that I am who I am.
Swindle-
Shepard Fairey on Banksy... Need I say more? It's every wannabe graffiti nerd's wet dream. And the Icon issues? The photos alone are enough to make it worth the cover price, but on top of that the stories are short, sweet, to-the-point and yet provocative. Also it's fearless, and I love that. Who else can go from Philippe Starck to Billy Idol to the Space Invader, without coming off a schizophrenic mess? Somehow they pull it off and it's seamless. Of all the contemporary periodicals, Swindle is by far my favorite classic in the making. It's the one I see my son flipping through back-issues of ten years from now.
Metropolis-
Architecture porn. I'd say that since my first year of college I've had an architectural bug. Probably longer, but living in Austin and being far away from home for the first time- thinking that I had it all figured out, suddenly this great art form found me and it's had a very stronghold ever since. So I studied "Falling Water", Wright, Ando and Kahn... I knew the greats, I read the Digest, and later I got a subscription to Dwell. I was well versed in archi-nerd speak and could definitely hold my own in a conversation among laymen. Then one day a few years ago, my architect neighbor's mail was accidentally delivered to my door and among the crappy coupons and unpaid bills was a giant and beautiful magazine called "Metropolis: Architecture-Culture-Design". Ten minutes later, I had gone from Architecture-loving pseudo-intellectual to all out PHONY! I knew squat about anything! Metropolis opened my eyes and blew my mind. A week later I was visiting the Cal Poly admissions office picking through leaflets on their Master's program. And incidentally... the neighbor never got that issue.
18 August, 2008
Kids Love It...?
So we had this dinner party on Saturday night. No big thing- just Jeff and I, Matt and Kandace, and Nic (our designated 5th wheel). Chicken, rice, salad... Attempted corn on the cob... And then some s'mores in our fun new fire pit. Of course, we had a little wine with dinner, and then some peach champagne with dessert, and then more wine ('cos it was there), and then things got a little bit crazy. We took the party indoors and spent a good amount of time taking turns wearing Jeff's (size 12) Heely's in the kitchen.
It was pretty awesome. But the champagne ran out, and rather than take that as a sign to stop- we dragged ourselves the half-block 'round the corner to pick up more. In the absence of peach, it was strawberry champagne this time, and a bottle of spumante for good measure. Beer for the boys, two bottles of sake, and we stumbled back home.
Now, this subsequent batch of alcohol seemed to last all of ten minutes- so out we went again. I do not recollect what we purchased on the second trip to the store- but I remember the clerk smiling (and probably laughing) quite a bit. Needless to say, I didn't last much longer after this. I remember sitting on the couch saying something to Nic and Kandace (probably semi-incoherent) about Pharrell and Chester French, and then I woke up in the bathtub naked surrounded by barfed-up graham crackers with my head resting on my wadded-up, soaking wet jeans. Yeah. It was gross. The sweetness that is my boyfriend then pulled me out, poured me into jammies and bed, DID A LOAD OF VOMIT LAUNDRY, continued to entertain our guests for a number of hours, and even cleaned up the party. At some point Nic walked himself home (not too far), and Matt and Kandace stayed the night. Now, granted I was unconscious and therefore I hesitate to take much credit- but you KNOW you've had a decent dinner party when it trails into a breakfast the following day. At said breakfast- Matt ordered a miscellaneous chili concoction and it looked so good, that I found it difficult to think of anything else (which is the hallmark of my general food-craving behavior). So yesterday I bought all the necessary ingredients in a wild attempt at making my very own chili from scratch. You can't really screw up chili, right? I mean, you just keep adding things to it until you get it right. And you'd assume that with the amount of soup I consume, I'd be a natural at this chili thing. Turns out, I totally am. My chili is phenomenal. Ever so sliiiiiightly soup-ish, but what else would you expect from me? The PERFECT consistency for the other constant in my life... rice. Today, while enjoying my umpteenth bowl of it, I started thinking about the chili my mom used to make when I was little, and specifically how I could have come to love or even TRY chili after the taste bud scarring trauma that was her "Kids Love It Chili". I'm not joking. That's honestly what my mother called it. "Kids Love It Chili" was the foulest, most unloved chili known to man, or errr... child. Furthermore, it should be noted, that I am an only child. So who the fuck were these "kids"? And how could they "love" it when I could barely STOMACH it?! And then suddenly today, I realized the genius of it.
When my 6 year old asked...
"Mama, what's for dinner?"
and I responded enthusiastically with,
"You know, that chili mommy made yesterday!"
to which she inquired,
"Ugggghhh! Mamaaaaa... Can't we just have reguhluh chili- instead of the one you made?"
Then it occurred to me...
"But it's special Kids Love It Chili!!!"
And this changed everything...
"OHHHH!!! I WANT THAT!"
"Well, okaaay..."
DAYUM!
Tommorrow night? "Kids Love It Squash".
06 August, 2008
I want to kill someone.
My bathtub is broken.
Today will be the third day I've gone without a shower.
I stink.
This is especially disconcerting for the following reasons:
A. I bathe/shower at least once every day. Sometimes twice. I really like being clean.
B. I'm not a camper. This has much to do with the fact that I am not okay with a lack of bathing.
C. Not bathing is traumatizing for me, as it conjures painful memories of post-hurricane hose baths in my front yard as a 14 year old. NOT a good age to be taking hose-baths in your front yard. Particularly when your front yard is directly adjacent to the island's only highway.
D. I'm really anxious to use my new marshmallow shower gel.
Attempts made to fix tub as of 2:10 PM today:
A. Zep Enzyme Bacterium powder. Came highly recommended. Did nothing.
B. DranO Max Gel. This hideous and potentially fatal chemical compound did absolutely NOTHING. I feel gypped, robbed of $5.95, and environmentally retarded.
C. Plunging to within an inch of my life.
D. Taking apart the overflow system and fishing through the pipes from two directions with a wire coat hanger. This may have been the low point in the process.
E. And lastly... Much internet research, including but not limited to watching countless youtubers unclog their own drains with mocking ease and using:
The "Zipit"
The "FlexiSnake"
Andre the Giant's tweezers
And semi-pornographic plunging
I'm as yet undecided as to which of these videos was most disturbing. Actually, it was probably one of the D.I.Y. tutorials, or how-to cable-access-ish handyman spots. It was especially awesome when the bald guy bent his head down to prove that the hair in the drain certainly didn't come from HIM.
Joy.
Next stop? Pacific Coast Home & Garden for any/all of the above referenced youtube solutions. And if those don't work? I'm going to hang myself from said wire coat hanger.
Today will be the third day I've gone without a shower.
I stink.
This is especially disconcerting for the following reasons:
A. I bathe/shower at least once every day. Sometimes twice. I really like being clean.
B. I'm not a camper. This has much to do with the fact that I am not okay with a lack of bathing.
C. Not bathing is traumatizing for me, as it conjures painful memories of post-hurricane hose baths in my front yard as a 14 year old. NOT a good age to be taking hose-baths in your front yard. Particularly when your front yard is directly adjacent to the island's only highway.
D. I'm really anxious to use my new marshmallow shower gel.
Attempts made to fix tub as of 2:10 PM today:
A. Zep Enzyme Bacterium powder. Came highly recommended. Did nothing.
B. DranO Max Gel. This hideous and potentially fatal chemical compound did absolutely NOTHING. I feel gypped, robbed of $5.95, and environmentally retarded.
C. Plunging to within an inch of my life.
D. Taking apart the overflow system and fishing through the pipes from two directions with a wire coat hanger. This may have been the low point in the process.
E. And lastly... Much internet research, including but not limited to watching countless youtubers unclog their own drains with mocking ease and using:
The "Zipit"
The "FlexiSnake"
Andre the Giant's tweezers
And semi-pornographic plunging
I'm as yet undecided as to which of these videos was most disturbing. Actually, it was probably one of the D.I.Y. tutorials, or how-to cable-access-ish handyman spots. It was especially awesome when the bald guy bent his head down to prove that the hair in the drain certainly didn't come from HIM.
Joy.
Next stop? Pacific Coast Home & Garden for any/all of the above referenced youtube solutions. And if those don't work? I'm going to hang myself from said wire coat hanger.
13 July, 2008
Seriously considering the purchase of a "slippery slide"...
So we totally slacked off on our blog "challenge" on Saturday... I recycled the latest piece I did for C&E, and he half-assed his way through some promotional nonsense. Tarded. But it was sort of a mutual mulligan- so we'll make up for it at some point. Maybe. It's just that we had soooo much going on and we had soooo much fun, so regardless of the blog commitment it was totally worth it. On the way home last night/this morning (eeek), we both agreed that it was the most fun day we've had in a while.
A brief synopsis:
- Slept-in embarrassingly late.
- I stayed in bed reading for a bit. Absolutely REFUSE to finish the current book. It's just too good. :(
- Quesadilla waaay more cheese than necessary, an avocado, tomato and cilantro from the garden, with tomatillo salsa. More heaven.
- Fiddled with my "Garage Band" program for the first time in 5 years or so, and recorded a song. Hilariously fun. And so much more satisfying than playing solitaire. :)
- Walked downtown listening to Ultra Orange & Emmanuelle for the 10,000th time today.
- Chit chatted with the boyfriend for a bit and stole cookies from him when his back was turned. Sucka!
- Met Matt and Kandace of Moniker at the gallery and made the trek North with them, to the Forever Stoked show out on a ranch between SLO and Morro Bay. Beautiful.
- Fun art.
- People watching.
- Wine in the sun.
- Attacked by a vicious, rabid yellow jacket for the very first time in my life. The bastard. Hand still hurts. :(
- Back to SLO, and on to dinner. Milanese- Arugula, tomato, lemon, chicken, Parmesan... Yum.
- After dinner we pick up Nic and drive South to Arroyo Grande, where he and his lady are house-sitting.
- Grand tour... Koi pond, cat sanctuary, bird atrium... We pop cherry tomatoes off of the vine and snack on them while exploring rocks, deer bones, and a remarkable house. It's still and quiet- right on the cusp of "getting too dark", and we're far from everything.
- Around 10:00 we rouse Matt and Kandace from out of their cozy bed, and drag Nic and Lia out to Bill's Karaoke Bar in the Arroyo Grande village.
- Having been here for the first time just a week and a half ago, I wasn't sure I could stomach it again, but miniature champagne bottles seemed to help- the acquisition of which made Kandace my hero for life! Ridiculously fun.
- This place is absolutely scary. Stuffed animals, wood so dark and dulled, I don't think it's seen the light of day (or a cleaning product) in the last hundred years or so... It is the quintessential bar. A thousand grimey bar scenes could have been filmed here... It's just THAT bar. I don't think I've ever heard so many sad, country songs in my life- and somehow they're all the sadder when crooning out of a 70 year old man, alone in a bar. Trashy reaches new heights and the air is thick with Eau de Alcoholique. A tribe of head-to-toe denim wearers makes for top-notch people watching. How it's possible to dance at one tempo while your partner dances at the other end of the rhythm spectrum is a skill I've yet to master- but the denim tribe has it down to a science. Rock.
- A free show rocked the dance floor in hooker heels and a 4-inch "skirt". Grinding and threesome-dancing ensues and the entire occupancy is granted unsolicited views of her *ahem* parts. The woman was a date-rape waiting to happen, complete with half-shut eyelids and tramp stamp tattoo on her lower back.
- Around 1AM, we move on. We trek to the AM/PM for a sugar fix. However, we miiiiight have participated in some debauchery along the way. But unlike the girl skanking her way across the danclefloor earlier- my lips are sealed.
- After goodbyes and drop-offs we arrive home with high aspirations and over-ambitions to wreak havoc on stop signs, but I opt instead for a 45 minute shower and a collapse onto the tempurpedic for the next 10 hours.
The amount of fun I'm having is blowing my mind... And it gets better everyday. Inspired by the Fellows/Reuter firepit, I have big plans for the yard, and all the hard work in the garden is paying off to the tune of 2-pound summer squash and tomato overload. AND today I'm in the market for a vintage bike!
Silly happy. :D
A brief synopsis:
- Slept-in embarrassingly late.
- I stayed in bed reading for a bit. Absolutely REFUSE to finish the current book. It's just too good. :(
- Quesadilla waaay more cheese than necessary, an avocado, tomato and cilantro from the garden, with tomatillo salsa. More heaven.
- Fiddled with my "Garage Band" program for the first time in 5 years or so, and recorded a song. Hilariously fun. And so much more satisfying than playing solitaire. :)
- Walked downtown listening to Ultra Orange & Emmanuelle for the 10,000th time today.
- Chit chatted with the boyfriend for a bit and stole cookies from him when his back was turned. Sucka!
- Met Matt and Kandace of Moniker at the gallery and made the trek North with them, to the Forever Stoked show out on a ranch between SLO and Morro Bay. Beautiful.
- Fun art.
- People watching.
- Wine in the sun.
- Attacked by a vicious, rabid yellow jacket for the very first time in my life. The bastard. Hand still hurts. :(
- Back to SLO, and on to dinner. Milanese- Arugula, tomato, lemon, chicken, Parmesan... Yum.
- After dinner we pick up Nic and drive South to Arroyo Grande, where he and his lady are house-sitting.
- Grand tour... Koi pond, cat sanctuary, bird atrium... We pop cherry tomatoes off of the vine and snack on them while exploring rocks, deer bones, and a remarkable house. It's still and quiet- right on the cusp of "getting too dark", and we're far from everything.
- Around 10:00 we rouse Matt and Kandace from out of their cozy bed, and drag Nic and Lia out to Bill's Karaoke Bar in the Arroyo Grande village.
- Having been here for the first time just a week and a half ago, I wasn't sure I could stomach it again, but miniature champagne bottles seemed to help- the acquisition of which made Kandace my hero for life! Ridiculously fun.
- This place is absolutely scary. Stuffed animals, wood so dark and dulled, I don't think it's seen the light of day (or a cleaning product) in the last hundred years or so... It is the quintessential bar. A thousand grimey bar scenes could have been filmed here... It's just THAT bar. I don't think I've ever heard so many sad, country songs in my life- and somehow they're all the sadder when crooning out of a 70 year old man, alone in a bar. Trashy reaches new heights and the air is thick with Eau de Alcoholique. A tribe of head-to-toe denim wearers makes for top-notch people watching. How it's possible to dance at one tempo while your partner dances at the other end of the rhythm spectrum is a skill I've yet to master- but the denim tribe has it down to a science. Rock.
- A free show rocked the dance floor in hooker heels and a 4-inch "skirt". Grinding and threesome-dancing ensues and the entire occupancy is granted unsolicited views of her *ahem* parts. The woman was a date-rape waiting to happen, complete with half-shut eyelids and tramp stamp tattoo on her lower back.
- Around 1AM, we move on. We trek to the AM/PM for a sugar fix. However, we miiiiight have participated in some debauchery along the way. But unlike the girl skanking her way across the danclefloor earlier- my lips are sealed.
- After goodbyes and drop-offs we arrive home with high aspirations and over-ambitions to wreak havoc on stop signs, but I opt instead for a 45 minute shower and a collapse onto the tempurpedic for the next 10 hours.
The amount of fun I'm having is blowing my mind... And it gets better everyday. Inspired by the Fellows/Reuter firepit, I have big plans for the yard, and all the hard work in the garden is paying off to the tune of 2-pound summer squash and tomato overload. AND today I'm in the market for a vintage bike!
Silly happy. :D
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