I could not love this picture any more. I crossed the street to take a shot of this canvas hanging on the back of a truck on West Broadway, and this guy stopped in front of it just as I was taking the picture.
Art is so often created by happenstance.
Walking down the street with me is not a bargain. Those who know me well know my famous, “Go ahead, I’ll catch up.” Those who love me unconditionally (AKA, offspring and BFFs) smile and know this is just the price to pay for hanging out with me. I make up for it in other ways. Those who are married to me (the subset of one) are incredibly tolerant and will even stand in a situation for my amusement (and theirs later on).
So, this image begs the question, “Why are crazy people such good lovers?” Here is a little exercise. Jump out of lurking mode (I know you are all there, I check the stats) and feel bad enough for my sorry ass to leave some comments answering to one or more of the following topics:
- Define crazy.
- Decide if this makes you more likely to admit that you are.
- In your experience, is there a direct correlation between being crazy and being a good lover?
Amuse me kiddies, I have had a tough few months!
We came across this piece on the street and I am still wondering why I did not buy it. I am thinking I need to go back next Sunday in the hopes the vendor will be there.
I have read a lot of dog philosophy over the years, but none is quite as perfect as this.
I would like to start this post by assuring you that no animals were harmed just for a laugh.
We spent the afternoon on The High Line today. It was a glorious afternoon and there was a
claustrophobic mass of humanity nice crowd out there enjoying the day with us. The thing about The High Line is that it was built after many of the apartments that are adjacent to it. I would imagine those who previously had lovely private terraces and windows facing what was an abandoned raised train track are now less than thrilled to have throngs of people strolling past their windows every day. I would also imagine that the window treatment biz picked up in this neighborhood after the completion of this extraordinary public gem.
I digress. One of these very not-so-private apartments facing the walkway had this cat wedged in between the couch and the window. At first a crowd started to gather and point in horror that this poor animal had been neglected and was now in its final resting place for all to see.
Until the little sucker moved. It sort of stretched and repositioned itself and settled back into its big snooze under glass.
This confirms my theory that cats are more than a little messed up in the head.
My favorite conversation:
Man: It’s not real.
Woman: Sure it is, didn’t you just see it move?!
Man: That doesn’t prove it’s real.
Me: (to myself of course) IDIOT!
All this talk of Instagram this week had me clicking away just a little more than usual. I am also a big fan of Hipstamatic, I sort of like their filters better. But hey, they didn’t make a BILLION freakin’ dollars this week! Craziness, right? I am guessing there were a lot of tears in the Hispta-office this week.
Back to this picture. Colored jeans are all the rage this Spring and I know this because I have an (almost) 23-year-old daughter, a fashion blogger writing for me and a retail fashion client. Certainly NOT because I would put this 50-something, big ole butt in a pair of yellow jeans. And if you know me, khaki is the brightest color pants I would ever wear.
I would imagine it would be hard to drive west on Houston St. and not almost hit the car in front of you with that colossal sunshine booty looming on top of that building. Butt (cheap, I know)… I assume that was exactly what the Calvin Klein Art Director was thinking when they designed the billboard. I am thinking this will probably sell a lot of yellow jeans. Sadly, I am afraid they will not be all that flattering on everyone.
From a strictly artistic point of view (because I truly could not care less about fashion trends), I love this image. The crazy sky, the super bright colors of the billboard and all that industrial scaffolding (the Puck Building if you were wondering), the urban architecture and just a hint of red peaking through here and there.
Honestly, art is way more interesting than big yellow butts.
Or is it?
Sometimes I am so busy taking pictures it does not occur to me that I should stop and buy the damn thing. This photo was taken at the Brooklyn Flea. They have the best collection of nonsense you can ever find. I always get so caught up in the whole atmosphere of the place that I make the mistake of not making a purchase.
I particularly love the hyphen in Teen-agers. It was if the word had just started catching on.
I am hoping this is still there next week. I was dying to see the inside of this book and of course was able to find it on ebay. It is a songbook from 1954! It can’t get any better, can it? The illustrations are to die for.
I take great comfort in knowing I can buy it there if the Flea is out of it next week.
There is nothing better than someone who remains passionate and true to their craft, even after many years of practicing it. I am fortunate (and proud) to still have friends from art school who have kept it fresh. One such person is my dear friend Scott.
We have reconnected recently and I love to follow his posts, seeing his new projects and looking at the world through his eyes that have never lost the wonder and sense of joy that each new project brings.
I am so very proud of his latest accomplishment and wanted to share. Scott entered the Architectural Record/AIA Napkin Sketch competition with this enchanting submission above. The requirement stated that the sketch must be on a 5×5 napkin… and as Scott stated, ‘No one said it had to be flat’.
Hence, they had to make a new category for his submission and gave him an award. You can read about it here.
A huge thank you to Scott for continuing to always see the world through those ever questioning eyes, for never feeling the boundaries and for taking every project that one step further.
And of course, for NEVER coloring in the lines.
Congrats, my friend.
Take a guess whose garbage this is? If you have been following along you would know that this garbage belonged to none other than the folks that threw out the Kandinsky print.
Makes sense. Here is a frame on top of a case of…
Van Gogh Vodka.
This is one household that takes their art seriously! You have to have some really interesting garbage to be posted here more than once.
I will admit that I did not photograph this when I first saw it because two young hipster dads were walking back from the bus stop when I saw it with Mel and I did not want them to think I was some crazy lady with a dog.
Hey, if the dog fits, wear it.
I don’t usually do book reviews here at Time to Cry, but this one I could not resist. I just finished reading Patti Smith’s Just Kids and it left an indelible mark on me. A promise made to a soul mate on the day before he died to write their story makes this all the more poignant.
Not because I am a fan of Patti Smith (although I am) or of Robert Mapplethorpe (I am(ish) with a caveat that some of his work is just way too graphic for me). But because this is the story of two of people who were their art. And simply because this is one of the truly great love stories. Not just of romance, but of two people who were inextricably linked. The story of young artists feeding each other’s souls in a way that is almost difficult to understand. In many ways they were but one soul. Their relationship started as a romantic one and transcended Mapplethorpe’s coming out.
With NYC of the late 60s and early 70s as it’s backdrop, Smith has woven their story almost as if it were poetry.
As with any biographical account, I am sure the omissions where plenty and the story romanticized a bit, but the net of it all is that these two people were so incredibly connected. In many ways, one completed the other. They reveled in each other’s fame and suffered from each other’s failures. Their sense of responsibility to one another was inspiring.
If you create, this will give you chills. If you don’t, it gives you insight into the minds and hearts of those who do. And if you have ever loved deeply, this will give you a good old fashioned Time to Cry at the end.
My neighbors are known for exceptionally interesting garbage. I might be the only one in the neighborhood to take notice, but the quality is not lost on me. If you are not a regular reader, click the links to see the Kandinsky garbage, the headless garbage, a prehistoric sentry and the funniest directions ever.
I know, I told you! Our garbage kicks ass!
Today I came across the scene above. I might be wrong about this being garbage. It might actually be a front yard gallery of sorts. Note the decided placement of the twig in front of the little painting. I found the whole scene simply delightful.
Ok, maybe I need to get out more.
Lately I have become a little obsessed with the instagram app on my ipod touch. I still suffer from iphone wannabeeism (waiting not so patiently for the Verzion iphone). But having the touch has allowed me to play with all the apps the other kids have. And when I say the other kids I mean the ones with AT&T iphones who suffer from another plight – that of the constantly dropping call.
Life is imperfect.
I am also one who has a hard time relaxing. When I have time off I tend to mark my days by accomplishments just the same. How many loads of laundry, how many meals cooked, items baked… see a pattern here?
Yesterday I folded and went for plain old feet up, read a book relaxing. I took the opp to document it and did not realize the titles of the books on the table until I looked at the photo today… Love and The Meaning of Life. Funny enough, The Art of Doing Nothing is also somewhere in that pile.
I think I might get used to doing nothing…