20 March, 2007
09 March, 2007
meeeee
03 March, 2007
February Book
1. My Dark Places by James Ellory
Depressive, violent, excessive and utterly un-put-down-able. James Ellroy is the same author who wrote the Black Dahlia and has basically made a writting career over obsessive with the violent deaths of women. His obsession (which itself is completely sick and twisted) started when he was ten when his mother was raped and murdered and almost consumed him as teenager. This book is the story of her death and his ensuing obsession, which he tried to solve in his forties with the help of a retired and beaten down L.A. homicide detective. James Ellroy is not likeable and there is so much gross in this books: from the awful way Ellroy lives most of his life, to the descriptions of hideous crimes against women. Still, it is a quick, sad read, with more to it then is initially evident. I think this book will stay with me, for better or for worse.
2. Holy Terror: Andy Warhol Close Up by Bob Colacello
I am reading a series of Andy Warhol bios, diaries, letters and other scraps to prepare myself for the exhibition my gallery is presenting of his life and work in January 2008. This particular book really focuses on his life in the 1970's and a bit into the 80s and up until his death in 1987. Although the focus is the 70s it does put his whole life into context by giving some info on his family, his home town of Pittsburgh, earlier years, etc... Bob Colacello was the editor of Andy's magazine, Interview, during the 70s and became part of his inner circle along with long time art dealer/personal manager Fred Hughes. Though well written, my biggest criticism of this book is that it is a big exercise in name-dropping and Colacello assumes readers know the elite of New York society in the 70s so, with a few exceptions, he doesn't really explain who he is talking about. It is easy to get lost in a see of names. The really great part of this book is that despite a falling out before they parted ways, Colacello manages to present a Warhol that is very conflicted. He explains why so many people loved Andy, and why so many people despised him or were ruined because of him. While reading the book I felt in turns dislike for Andy and affection for Andy, by the end of the book I saw him as a really sad and tragic character who was perhaps the most lonely figure in modern pop culture.
3. Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs
I picked this book up for two reasons: 1. I was at a loss for what to read next, had heard something about this book and it looked like a quick read and 2. I remember Jackie talking about wanting to see the movie when it came out last year because she enjoyed the book and Jackie tends to read good books. I am not sure how I felt about this book. My biggest response was that I can't believe this is true story, that these people actually exist and live in the way Burroughs portrays them in the book. I found this book funny and sad in turns but truthfully, the biggest thing impression I had was how utterly gross this book is. From the state of the house, to the pooping, to the sex scenes... it just totally grossed me out. There were characters that I like, particularly Augusten, Natalie and Hope, but I didn't like them a lot and the other characters were terribly annoying - like Finch and Augusten's mother. The biggest problem I had was the ending, which seemed to wrap eveything up with a bit of a bow in a way that felt a bit phoney to me. It reminded me of the TV program Nanny 911 where everything is going to shit for 55 minutes then then within five minutes the lights come on, everything knows exactly what they do and the happy familly music begins to play. I don't like the sensation that things are being resolved primarily because we're running out of time. This book is funny though and there were bits that I absolutely loved and that made me laugh out loud such as this scene where Augusten and Natalie decide to sign for patients in a psychiatric ward of a hospital:
There are also a few very touching bits such as this one where Natalie and Augusten cross under a waterfall and after probably nearly dying, "I lay back with my arms stretched out and stared at the sky. I had never felt so free in my entire life." There are plenty of lovely, disturbing and hillarious moments in Running with Scissors but, for me at least, it didn't add up to a wonderful book. David Sedaris does this kind of genre much better.
Depressive, violent, excessive and utterly un-put-down-able. James Ellroy is the same author who wrote the Black Dahlia and has basically made a writting career over obsessive with the violent deaths of women. His obsession (which itself is completely sick and twisted) started when he was ten when his mother was raped and murdered and almost consumed him as teenager. This book is the story of her death and his ensuing obsession, which he tried to solve in his forties with the help of a retired and beaten down L.A. homicide detective. James Ellroy is not likeable and there is so much gross in this books: from the awful way Ellroy lives most of his life, to the descriptions of hideous crimes against women. Still, it is a quick, sad read, with more to it then is initially evident. I think this book will stay with me, for better or for worse.
2. Holy Terror: Andy Warhol Close Up by Bob Colacello
I am reading a series of Andy Warhol bios, diaries, letters and other scraps to prepare myself for the exhibition my gallery is presenting of his life and work in January 2008. This particular book really focuses on his life in the 1970's and a bit into the 80s and up until his death in 1987. Although the focus is the 70s it does put his whole life into context by giving some info on his family, his home town of Pittsburgh, earlier years, etc... Bob Colacello was the editor of Andy's magazine, Interview, during the 70s and became part of his inner circle along with long time art dealer/personal manager Fred Hughes. Though well written, my biggest criticism of this book is that it is a big exercise in name-dropping and Colacello assumes readers know the elite of New York society in the 70s so, with a few exceptions, he doesn't really explain who he is talking about. It is easy to get lost in a see of names. The really great part of this book is that despite a falling out before they parted ways, Colacello manages to present a Warhol that is very conflicted. He explains why so many people loved Andy, and why so many people despised him or were ruined because of him. While reading the book I felt in turns dislike for Andy and affection for Andy, by the end of the book I saw him as a really sad and tragic character who was perhaps the most lonely figure in modern pop culture.
3. Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs
I picked this book up for two reasons: 1. I was at a loss for what to read next, had heard something about this book and it looked like a quick read and 2. I remember Jackie talking about wanting to see the movie when it came out last year because she enjoyed the book and Jackie tends to read good books. I am not sure how I felt about this book. My biggest response was that I can't believe this is true story, that these people actually exist and live in the way Burroughs portrays them in the book. I found this book funny and sad in turns but truthfully, the biggest thing impression I had was how utterly gross this book is. From the state of the house, to the pooping, to the sex scenes... it just totally grossed me out. There were characters that I like, particularly Augusten, Natalie and Hope, but I didn't like them a lot and the other characters were terribly annoying - like Finch and Augusten's mother. The biggest problem I had was the ending, which seemed to wrap eveything up with a bit of a bow in a way that felt a bit phoney to me. It reminded me of the TV program Nanny 911 where everything is going to shit for 55 minutes then then within five minutes the lights come on, everything knows exactly what they do and the happy familly music begins to play. I don't like the sensation that things are being resolved primarily because we're running out of time. This book is funny though and there were bits that I absolutely loved and that made me laugh out loud such as this scene where Augusten and Natalie decide to sign for patients in a psychiatric ward of a hospital:
Our voices trembled at first, because of our nerves. Anytime you perform in
front of a life audience for the first time, this is bound to happen. But by the
second verse, we were both completely absorbed in the song. Natalie's voice was
truly beautiful, soaring high against the perforated ceiling panels. I closed my
eyes and tried to imagine a hushed audience wearing expensive earings, tissues
poised beneath their eyes.
Which is why the wet smack was such as shock to both of us.
"Fuckers." It was the hateful old man, the one without teeth, I now saw.
He'd coughed deeply, productively, and spat in our direction. Because we were
standing so close togther, his phlegm hit us both. In the face. It was deeply
replusive.
And we did the only thing we could possibly do. Or at least Natalie did.
She spat right back at him.
There are also a few very touching bits such as this one where Natalie and Augusten cross under a waterfall and after probably nearly dying, "I lay back with my arms stretched out and stared at the sky. I had never felt so free in my entire life." There are plenty of lovely, disturbing and hillarious moments in Running with Scissors but, for me at least, it didn't add up to a wonderful book. David Sedaris does this kind of genre much better.
Labels: books
26 February, 2007
A little unhinged
18 February, 2007
Birthday
Today is my 29th birthday. I usually don't like birthdays because, like so many other things in my life, I put far too much emphasis on making them 'special'. As a result, I spend most of my time marking and measuring their level of specialness and am usually disappointed.
I tried to do things differently this year.
Instead of planning something significant, I just let things happen and because I didn't have many expectations, the day unfolded in a lovely, unexpected way. I had brunch at a beautiful old hotel with my family, followed by cake at my grandperants, an afternoon at the dog park with my puppies (it is finally warmer here) and laziness on the couch with my sweetheart. Tomorrow we might drive to a local spa just out of town and soak in the warm mineral water. Nothing special, but somehow really just what I've needed.
Here is a picture my grandperants gave me of my grandfather holding me the day I was born.
And here is a picture taken today with my mother and sister.
Labels: life family
14 February, 2007
Valentine's Day is for Lovers
Today I am sick of listening/reading to people whine about how massively commercial and stupid Valentine's Day is. It seems that people complain more about V-day then other commercially based holidays as a reaction to thier own loneliness. People complain about Christmas and Easter, but not with the same vehemance they complain about Valentine's. There's venom and froth and anger.... It is really unsettling. It seems like a silly thing to waste one's energy on hating a holiday one claims is meaningless.
I am not a sap by any stretch, but if there is any goodness or purpose in Valentine's it is just to remind us to let those we care about know that we care. So happy Vday everyone and love and be happy! (Lordie, I sound like a hippie)
I have been reading a lot of Tibetan Buddhism books lately, which could be having an affect on my desire to spread lovingkindness to the universe. It really is lovely though, and at its core is so easy but so totally impossible at the same time. Besides, I am totally in love with the Dalai Llama. Seriously, if I could have anyone in the world as my Valentine, it would be him. My favorite DL quote, "Kindness is my religion." Swoon!
"What unites us all as human beings is an urge for happiness, which at heart is a yearning for union, for overcoming our feelings of seperateness. We want to feel our identity with something larger than our small selves. We long to be one with our own lives and with each other."
Ah so.
I am not a sap by any stretch, but if there is any goodness or purpose in Valentine's it is just to remind us to let those we care about know that we care. So happy Vday everyone and love and be happy! (Lordie, I sound like a hippie)
I have been reading a lot of Tibetan Buddhism books lately, which could be having an affect on my desire to spread lovingkindness to the universe. It really is lovely though, and at its core is so easy but so totally impossible at the same time. Besides, I am totally in love with the Dalai Llama. Seriously, if I could have anyone in the world as my Valentine, it would be him. My favorite DL quote, "Kindness is my religion." Swoon!"What unites us all as human beings is an urge for happiness, which at heart is a yearning for union, for overcoming our feelings of seperateness. We want to feel our identity with something larger than our small selves. We long to be one with our own lives and with each other."
Ah so.
Labels: life
04 February, 2007
A little of this, a little of that
So, off the top the New Years resolutions are not all going swimmingly (but I suppose if they were then they wouldn't be NY resolutions). I am not updating more regularly and I am not even meeting my picture a day goal. Instead of beating myself up about it, I say OH WELL! Because it's not like I've been sitting around picking my nose instead of posting photos or blogging. No, I've been working my ass off.
My gallery had it's big winter show opening last weekend and because of my massive schmooze effort we had a turn out of about 300 people, which is a very good number for this little arts community. The show is truly lovely -- contemporary without feeling completely alienating and just so utterly cool. Cool artists = cool work in this particular case as I found out when I spent all my time not at work socializing with them (them being truly unique artists from all across the country). It was a weekend that felt exactly like it should feel to work in a successful gallery. Though it did mean a few too many martini's, a touch too much red wine and very little me time.
Since then I've been doing about a zillion other work related things precipitated by the fact that February is a ridiculously short month, which means that I need to figure out how to fit 31 days worth of work into 28 days. Three less days. I nearly passed out when I realized it. Then I promptly took my ass to work, on a Sunday afternoon. The only ok thing about working non-stop is that the balmy weather has disappeared and it's been about -35 degrees for the past week, with no end in sight. Truly inhumane and hideous. So cold that my windows have ice lining the inside. So cold that it stings to breath. Other then work related things I (along with nearly everyone else) have been cloistered inside and in many ways, work has felt like a necessary break from the house and from stir crazy dogs. I can empathize with Jack Nicholson's pathological behaviours in The Shining.
Other good news, my job is sending me on a week long, all expense paid trip to San Francisco in April. Hootie hoo! I've been to LA but never to San Francisco and I've heard it is beautiful. I will get to stay by Fisherman's Wharf and meet people from all over north America, and visit museums and galleries and learn all about the hip places (with more money then me) are doing with their websites. Maybe I'll make up for the lack of picture-taking when I'm there. Or maybe not.
XOXOXO
My gallery had it's big winter show opening last weekend and because of my massive schmooze effort we had a turn out of about 300 people, which is a very good number for this little arts community. The show is truly lovely -- contemporary without feeling completely alienating and just so utterly cool. Cool artists = cool work in this particular case as I found out when I spent all my time not at work socializing with them (them being truly unique artists from all across the country). It was a weekend that felt exactly like it should feel to work in a successful gallery. Though it did mean a few too many martini's, a touch too much red wine and very little me time.
Since then I've been doing about a zillion other work related things precipitated by the fact that February is a ridiculously short month, which means that I need to figure out how to fit 31 days worth of work into 28 days. Three less days. I nearly passed out when I realized it. Then I promptly took my ass to work, on a Sunday afternoon. The only ok thing about working non-stop is that the balmy weather has disappeared and it's been about -35 degrees for the past week, with no end in sight. Truly inhumane and hideous. So cold that my windows have ice lining the inside. So cold that it stings to breath. Other then work related things I (along with nearly everyone else) have been cloistered inside and in many ways, work has felt like a necessary break from the house and from stir crazy dogs. I can empathize with Jack Nicholson's pathological behaviours in The Shining.
Other good news, my job is sending me on a week long, all expense paid trip to San Francisco in April. Hootie hoo! I've been to LA but never to San Francisco and I've heard it is beautiful. I will get to stay by Fisherman's Wharf and meet people from all over north America, and visit museums and galleries and learn all about the hip places (with more money then me) are doing with their websites. Maybe I'll make up for the lack of picture-taking when I'm there. Or maybe not.
XOXOXO
Labels: work travel weather
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