The western mass.

Smith College's Botanical Gardens; Northampton; woman in sari at Tanglewood; Longmeadow; buoys and the backyard garden in Agawam.

Double ring.

My new brass and resin ring from Day Defy Project arrived yesterday from Bangkok! M presented the package to me just before the James Cotton concert... The rings are hinged together at one corner, so you can double it up and wear it on one finger or open it up and wear it on two. (Also good for fighting, like brass knuckles.)

Living.

Books bleeding outward.



My father's oil painting of a man sleeping on a haystack in the corner.

Morning bell, morning bell.

"Cold Souls"

I haven't seen a good new film in quite a while. Then, the other night, we saw "Cold Souls," made in 2008, written and directed by Sophie Barthes.

Paul Giamatti plays himself.

It's brilliant and rich and haunting and hilarious. And it's a treat to see Giamatti play Uncle Vanya in "Uncle Vanya."

Summer in Nimes.

Via Light Locations.

Shrimp days.

M makes the yummiest food. These are shrimp pesto sandwiches on challah, and the salad is asparagus with prosciutto. The concert was a remaking of "Bitches' Brew" at Prospect Park.

My celery jacket.

I wear it so much.

.

The High Line; Chelsea; "Manhattan"; yummy fish.

for Matt.

Origin unknown.

Yokoo

The three-ring chain; the floppy weekender; and the Brobdingnagian hat (in Gulliver's Travels, they were the enormous species of human).

The last photograph also reminds me of "Whistler's Mother."

I have been a fan of Yokoo's wacky, chunky, excessive knits for some time, though I have yet to buy anything.

It is worth thinking about the satire implicit in the gigantism aesthetic, anyway.

Unknown Pleasures.

Via.

Pollock & Krasner at the beach.

(How apt that Krasner is nearly cut out of the frame.)


Below pic: (l-r) Pollock, unidentified child, Greenberg, Frankenthaler, Krasner.

From the Smithsonian archives.

Things fit into things.

And next to them, or onto them.

Sometimes a little faux-naif juxtaposition, done breezily, feels exceptionally right and true. It triggers something visceral and primal and human, since, don't we all begin, as infant-artists, stacking objects, trying to fit them together, or balance them on top of one another? We make arrangements of disparate things borrowed from the domestic sphere. We admire them. We stand back. We admire them some more. We hope they last.


And then, somewhere along the way, most of us stop making anything at all.


These are from the Tucker Nichols show at Zieher Smith. Up now.

Shabd Simon-Alexander.

Watercolor silk dresses by Shabd, a Williamsburg designer.

More jewelry I want to bite.

Mint ceramic necklace at Maryam Nassir Zadeh.


Rockwell ring by Macha.

Objects in my current orbit of interest.

Peach trapeze top and gold pleated skirt from Lethilogica. The latter is probably a mistake worn, but somehow very exciting to look at.