Wild Horses and the Caves of Grand Central

Maybe Grand Central doesn't *really* look like its arches lead into caves, but a Cave is making a stunning impact on the terminal.

Nick Cave, the artist I most recently admired for his splash of turquoise (!), has fashioned a gorgeous team of thirty horses to visit and perform in Grand Central from today (March 25) through March 31.

The turquoise on Mr. Cave's shoulders thrilled me.

These dancing ponies express themselves so well:

To Prince Edward Island, encore une fois

As gentle readers probably know by now, thr Alex Colville painting To Prince Edward Island is a favourite piece for sentimental reasons.  Many, many times I took the ferry to and from my home.

The fantastic Tim Walker photograph of Tilda Swinton, far above, reminds me of the painting, though its subject is quite different.  But its composition--the elbows, the "binoculars," the curious, perhaps interrogative gaze--creates, I think, a pretty visual echo.

The Yellow Books

Recently a large unadorned structural objet came into my daily work life, and it called out for some immediate tarting up.

So I papered it.  I've been collecting wallpaper samples for the past decade, having almost papered my dining room. For this small but conspicuous project, I went to my first wallpaper discovery, J. R. Burrows and selected Priory Garden, which was created in the "style" of William Morris. 

I did notice that the Burrows Company said that rolls of the wallpaper, imported from England somewhere around 1983, were found in the attic of the Nowrood, Massachusetts, family home of the publisher and photographer Fred Holland Day, but attic schmattic, Day Schmay, blah,blah, blah: I was interested in the flowers and colours.

So (and there's always a "so") I was surprised to learn, while discussing how many rolls to order with the charming J. R. Burrows over the phone, that my new wallpaper has a literary pedigree. 

For Fred Holland Day, who papered his father's bedroom in the historic Norwood Holland Day House with Priory Garden, also published the American edition of The Yellow Book, a popular literary magazine (1894-1897) from London. 

The illustrator Aubrey Beardsley was its first art editor, and male literary greats such as Henry James, William Butler Yeats and H. G. Wells were printed in it.  The Yellow Book also promoted women writers, such as Ada Leverson and illustrators, such as Ethel Reed.

A couple of other Yellow Books that have recently caught my eye are those by the artist Harland Miller. Utterly self-aware of his sometimes "macho" (his word) work, Miller creates fictional Penguin covers with a wink. 

Some of these covers look to be a good eight feet tall; some fit beautifully over a mantle, such as this cheeky pink book in the London home of decorator Harriet Anstruther:


The fine print is bold.

 There do not appear to be any yellow books in Anstruther's home, but lush, bitten rosy pinks abound:

I'll give Miller the last word:

Running on Empty? Tabitha Soren's Photographs

When I was little, I used to make up mini musicals in my parents' bedroom and act them out in front of their mirror.  I rememebr writing one song called "Running" and turning over the performing honors to my favorite Barbie, a 1976 Miss America modeled on Tawny Godin.

The song was a dud; it wouldn't even pass muster on Smash, the TV show that makes Melrose Place look like Downton Abbey--but I still remember every lyric, though I've repressed them.

The song came rushing back when I learned via Vanity Fair's Twitter update that Tabitha Soren was mounting a show of her "running" photographs.  Gentle readers may know that I not only love running (though I am confined to an elliptical until an injury heals) but also enjoy looking at photos of runners (see post below).

Soren's photos are not athletic, however; rather, they capture a manufactured panic akin to the films of David Lynch (Mullholland Drive comes to mind) or the images of Cindy Sherman.

Note: Sherman, who photographs herself, is much more effective with "facials," a term I just learned from glimpsing a ghastly episode of Toddlers and Tiaras after a late-night copyediting binge.  She articulates just the right expression in each image, whereas Soren's models often hide their faces with their hair or look behind them. (Or both.)

This strategy reminds me of when Sean Combs played Walter Lee Younger on stage opposite the brilliant Audra McDonald.  When he'd have to convey a powerful emotion, he'd bury his face in his hands.

Critical tangents aside, Soren's photgraphs do project a certain kinetic appeal.  But they remain earthbound, instead of soaring.

Turkey Dressing

Although it's not the season to do so, I've been contemplating turkeys. 

First the New Yorker's March style issue printed this image of a Prada dress, from Fall-Winter 2007-2008.

Then the New York Times spotlighted an extraordinary collaboration between photographer Robin Schwartz and her daughter Amelia.  Schwartz photographs the preternaturally calm Amelia "among the animals," and the results are as enchanted as as forest in Peau d'Ane (and infinitely kinder too).



Here is Amelia "wearing" a turkey:

Finally, I was reminded of 1984, and my second year of university.  I'd been reading a good bit of Vogue then, and remember seeing in its pages an ad for the revamped Vanity Fair, under the guidance of Tina Brown.  The cover of that November issue featured Brooke Shields, also "wearing" a live turkey headdress:

A Lovely Maiyet Capelet

When I was in boarding school, we dressed for dinner every night. 



My favorite shoes were tall slingbacks, in the palest sky-blue leather possible.  I felt like I was floating in a Watteau painting when I wore them.

This dress by Maiyet, in a dreamy, floaty, silky blue recalls those shoes. But whereas I conjured a Watteau for lift-off, this dress seems to have its own glorious feathers attached via capelet for flying ease.

Maiyet . . . Capelet . . . Eaglet . . . umm . . . Robin?

Road Thrill

If someone were to drive through the eastern Prince Edward Island countryside, while staying close to the shoreline, she might find, an unusually picturesque house across the road from my father's childhood home. 

She'd probably stop in wonder, for the old farmhouse would be painted a bright, almost burnt, orange colour, accented with white wooden gingerbread and wrought iron details.  It's been that colour for as long as I can remember, ever since someone used some paint that was left over from lining the middle of the roads.

A textile artist lives there now, appropriately, and the road-line orange is set off to great effect with a collection of fancy white heirloom chickens, with red accents, and a lush garden.  There may be a garden schnake, but I've never checked.

I was reminded of this road-line orange gingerbread house when I saw Bottega Veneta's new bag--made from alternating stripes of burnt orange velvet and python.  To me, it's a high-end country road bag, the orange stripes marking the middle of the road, the python leisurely crossing.

Do tell, gentle readers, is this bag in a passing or a no passing zone?

Rubber Sole

I was just six months old when the Beatles album came out, so I'm more familiar with rubber soles (and uppers, too).

The other day when I was reading the NYT styles section, I was struck by the architecturally appealing shoes worn, to the right, by set designer, etc., Anne Koch.

She said she bought them from an online boutique, Grey Area, so off I clicked, to learn that the shoes (Zaha Hadid for Melissa) were made of rubber, not leathah.

On one hand, this knowledge was good, because my interest in the shoes instantly diminished.  But on the other hand, was I too quick to reject them?

Renaming a New Yorker Cover

This illustration by Istvan Banyai is officially called "On the Horizon,"

but I couldn't resist renaming it "Sea Shelf."

How does that tongue twister go?

She sells sea shelfs(!) on the sea shore . . .

Margaret Kilgallen and Joanna S. Rose: Skate, Surf, Stitch

I was recently introduced to the work of Margaret Kilgallen, the late San Francisco artist who painted strong, crisp images directly on walls. 

Many of her paintings were in red and white (with a black line), and I can see them these cool surf and skate images

paired with antebellum-style redwork or red-and-white quilts, like the ones from Infinite Variety, a stunning exhibition of 651 of Joanna S. Rose's quilt collection at the Park Avenue Armory.  651!!! (One more than the publicity material states.)

**Kilgallen is featured in the April issue of Juxtapoz magazine.  You'll need Google Chrome to see it, as my (obviously mainstream) Internet Explorer was informed that it was not cool enough to do the job.

**Rose's quilt exhibition, which she put together with the assistance of American Folk Art Museum, is open to the public March 25-30 at the Park Avenue Armory.  Admission is free, as the exhibition is Rose's gift to the city of New York.

If you go to Rose's exhibition, do let me know.  I had hoped to be in the city this week but didn't make it :-(((