cream'wiches. 1 rockefeller plaza. nyc.Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
blossom dearie (1926-2009)
many years ago, i studied the piano. only classical stuff--chopin, rachmaninoff--and i was pretty good at it. but one of the things i disliked intensely was to be at a party at home, or anywhere there was a piano. someone would invariably beckon me start playing. and it would make me incredibly self-conscious and embarrassed. for me, nerves plus no sheet music equalled disaster. i'd miss a note or forget a section and have to start all over again, full of regret. but more to the point, i wondered who at this party really wanted to hear me play the fantasie impromptu? or the prelude in c# minor?
i would have much preferred this scenario. to walk up to a piano, without anyone taking much notice, ease into a few simple jazz chords, that were familiar to the room, maybe start to sing a little bit, just above a whisper. then folks would start toe-tapping, head-bobbing, maybe smile and sing along. others would barely notice, but it just might make them linger over their drink and conversation a little bit longer. it wouldn't be so much entertainment, as a mood-enhancer.
when i hear blossom dearie's music, that's exactly what i envision.
not a show-stopper, just a gal, at the piano.
her voice is a bit thin and quiet, but so charming.
and her piano playing doesn't break boundaries--she just plays it nice and straight.
i could do far worse than to master "more than you know" in her style.
***
it was a handful of years ago when i first saw this cover of her 1957 studio album. i fell in love with her look, her groovy glasses--she was a bespectacled shelley winters! or, better yet, a character actor on an i love lucy episode.
i took a look at the track listing (a mix of familiar tunes--thou swell, i won't dance--and some that definitely intrigued me--lover man, tout doucemont, comment allez vous) but once i read that she was the pianist, i just had to give her a listen.
i've been devotee ever since.
she passed away over the weekend, so perhaps if you haven't heard much of her or her music, you will in the coming days.
here are a couple of favorites of mine. hope they make your day a bit lighter and brighter.
'deed i do
everything i've got
i won't dance
you for me
i've been devotee ever since.
she passed away over the weekend, so perhaps if you haven't heard much of her or her music, you will in the coming days.
here are a couple of favorites of mine. hope they make your day a bit lighter and brighter.
'deed i do
everything i've got
i won't dance
you for me
Friday, February 6, 2009
Hanging On The Telephone
was in an art meeting today (zzzz) and we were repeatedly trying to conference in our copywriter...and having no luck...kept having to hear the dial tone...
my boss finally says, "this reminds me of that blondie song..." and we both shrieked, "HANGING ON THE TELEPHONE!!"
so i have had it in mind all day.
this might be one of my all-time favorite tracks ("oooh i can't control myself"), along with "dreaming" ("when I met you in the restaurant, you could tell I was no debutante...")
debbie harry is so bad-ass and beautiful.
enjoy.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
read a good poem: "of the terrible doubt of appearances"
maurice denis. taches de soleil sur la terrasse, 1890. at musée d'orsay, paris.
Of the terrible doubt of appearances,
Of the uncertainty after all, that we may be deluded,
That may-be reliance and hope are but speculations after all,
That may-be identity beyond the grave is a beautiful fable
only,
May-be the things I perceive, the animals, plants, men, hills,
shining and flowing waters,
The skies of day and night, colors, densities, forms, may-be
these are (as doubtless they are) only apparitions, and
the real something has yet to be known,
(How often they dart out of themselves as if to confound me
and mock me!
How often I think neither I know, nor any man knows,
aught of them,)
May-be seeming to me what they are (as doubtless they
indeed but seem) as from my present point of view, and
might prove (as of course they would) nought of what
they appear, or nought anyhow, from entirely changed
points of view;
To me these and the like of these are curiously answer'd by
my lovers, my dear friends,
When he whom I love travels with me or sits a long while
holding me by the hand,
When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and
reason hold not, surround us and pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am
silent, I require nothing further,
I cannot answer the question of appearances or that of
identity beyond the grave,
But I walk or sit indifferent, I am satisfied,
He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.
-walt whitman
i got my hands and eyes on this poem today, courtesy of the writer's almanac. i would guess that most people i know receive twa emails as well, and they are probably more diligent than me about reading them. i have this problem with subscriptions--paper and online. i sign up for everything under the sun, because i feel like there is just so much out there to learn and i don't want to miss anything. but then everything starts flowing in and overflowing everywhere, on the floor of my apartment or my 4 in-boxes, and i wind up only reading a few things, here and there.
i used to read the writer's almanac every day (a poem a day! what a great idea! how hard is it to commit to that?!) but like i said, too much in the in-box. so it's become a completely random exercise. the nice thing about the randomness is there are some days when it feels utterly like fate. days like today, when after not having read a poem in weeks, i click and there it is, something so moving, or so reflective of me or my mood, it just makes the rest of the day seem good and full.
hope you like this good poem (and the photo, which i took at the musee d'orsay last year).
and as they say on the twa, "be well, do good work, and keep in touch."
Of the uncertainty after all, that we may be deluded,
That may-be reliance and hope are but speculations after all,
That may-be identity beyond the grave is a beautiful fable
only,
May-be the things I perceive, the animals, plants, men, hills,
shining and flowing waters,
The skies of day and night, colors, densities, forms, may-be
these are (as doubtless they are) only apparitions, and
the real something has yet to be known,
(How often they dart out of themselves as if to confound me
and mock me!
How often I think neither I know, nor any man knows,
aught of them,)
May-be seeming to me what they are (as doubtless they
indeed but seem) as from my present point of view, and
might prove (as of course they would) nought of what
they appear, or nought anyhow, from entirely changed
points of view;
To me these and the like of these are curiously answer'd by
my lovers, my dear friends,
When he whom I love travels with me or sits a long while
holding me by the hand,
When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and
reason hold not, surround us and pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am
silent, I require nothing further,
I cannot answer the question of appearances or that of
identity beyond the grave,
But I walk or sit indifferent, I am satisfied,
He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.
-walt whitman
i got my hands and eyes on this poem today, courtesy of the writer's almanac. i would guess that most people i know receive twa emails as well, and they are probably more diligent than me about reading them. i have this problem with subscriptions--paper and online. i sign up for everything under the sun, because i feel like there is just so much out there to learn and i don't want to miss anything. but then everything starts flowing in and overflowing everywhere, on the floor of my apartment or my 4 in-boxes, and i wind up only reading a few things, here and there.
i used to read the writer's almanac every day (a poem a day! what a great idea! how hard is it to commit to that?!) but like i said, too much in the in-box. so it's become a completely random exercise. the nice thing about the randomness is there are some days when it feels utterly like fate. days like today, when after not having read a poem in weeks, i click and there it is, something so moving, or so reflective of me or my mood, it just makes the rest of the day seem good and full.
hope you like this good poem (and the photo, which i took at the musee d'orsay last year).
and as they say on the twa, "be well, do good work, and keep in touch."
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
the little prince
rafael nadal accepting the 2009 australian open trophy, as roger federer looks on.photo by oliver weiken/european pressphoto agency, via nytimes.com
"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." --antoine de saint exupéry
when the australian open began two weeks ago, i never dreamed that rafael nadal would win the championship. well...i did dream about it. but to consider nadal's previous performances in australia, his tendency to start the tennis season a bit slowly,and the tendinitis that sidelined him for the latter part of the 2008 season, it seemed too much to believe that he'd be able to pull it off. this was even more true after his epic win on friday over verdasco, and with federer having a full day of extra rest on his side. how much can anyone, even a super fan like me, reasonably expect of a body?
but perhaps part of nadal's success (and part of what makes him so compelling) is he doesn't seem to burden himself with expectations beyond doing his best. regardless of who he is facing, he brings the same effort and attitude. he seems not to really dwell on what has passed (point to point, match to match, tournament to tournament). he just works, competes his hardest, in the moment. simple, no? but also rare.
writers and commentators, and fans cannot speak of nadal without speaking of his heart--he’s helped create some of the most dramatic moments in tennis, the physicality of his game is beyond what most of us can comprehend, and he has vanquished arguably one of the greatest players of all time, consistently, on some of tennis’ biggest stages.
but it also seems fair to say that nadal has consistently exhibited a capacity to see beyond an on-court outcome—he is humble to the point of being deferential, with a refreshing perspective on life and tennis (“hobby work”). his game, attitude and heart are in no small part due to the guidance of his coach, and uncle, toni (see peter bodo's terrific post and feature article in the jan/feb issue of tennis magazine). credit nadal with being open enough to accept and embody that instruction.
yet i'm not sure anyone could have anticipated the profoundly magnanimous physical and spoken gestures he extended to very tearful federer, after today's match. christopher clarey, writing in the times shortly after the final, offers a terrific quote that reveals nadal's capacity to see beyond himself, and beyond any one victorious moment:
"...as Nadal began to grasp the degree of Federer’s emotional distress, he added a moment of reflection to his moment of triumph.
“Of course it can happen to all of us,” he said of Federer’s breakdown during the ceremony. “It was an emotional moment, and I think this also lifts up sport, to see a great champion like Federer expressing his emotions. It shows his human side. But in these moments, when you see a rival, who is also a comrade, feeling like this, you enjoy the victory a little bit less.”
i want to be careful not to ascribe heroic qualities to nadal, as it's been shown time and again that athletes and celebrities are utterly human.
but his performance today and his post-match remarks left me inspired.
i think we may have in this king of clay, this new wizard of oz, this number one tennis player, a little prince.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
eyes wide open
rafael nadal, at 5-4, triple match point, v. fernando verdasco. 2009 australian open semi-final.i am a morning person.
morning light.
morning coffee.
morning paper.
morning kiss...
all that, very, very good.
i love a day when i can drag my blanket from bed to couch, and watch movies from morning til night.
and i love any morning when i can drink coffee and watch some tennis on tv. throw in a bagel, and it's a party.
there have been quite a few opportunities to watch some great "morning" matches in the last couple of weeks, but work's been encroaching on my fantasy life. the other night, my favorite player started his semi-final match at 3:30am ny time. and for a moment, i considered staying up. but on a "school night," it just wouldn't have been smart. so i set the dvr.
when i got up on friday at 7am, i expected the match would be over. but as most people know by now, the match--the longest in australian open history--was only half in the bag at that point. i was thrilled that i had the opportunity to watch it LIVE, and that was before i realized how thrilling the actual tennis would be. within minutes, i was riled up: OOF! NICE! JE-SUS! DAAAAMN! I even threw in a little tagalog--"PUNETA!" i'm not even sure what that means exactly. but you get the idea.
at a certain point, i just felt bad for both of them. they'd sit at the change overs buried under ice packs, looking more and more disheveled. and yet the quality of the tennis remained stunning. who would crack first? i almost couldn't bear to watch them push themselves and each other, physically and mentally--it was a relief for me to have to get ready for work. when nadal would seem to struggle, and play defensively, or verdasco would crush a winner, i'd start poking around in my closet, distracting myself with decisions like, skirt or jeans? black tights or grey? striped sweater or solid?
but by the middle of the 5th set, i was sitting on the edge of my couch, fully dressed, with my black north face jacket on. zipped. i was already late for work. but i couldn't decide if my heart could handle staying--or if i would kick myself for leaving.
i'm glad i stayed. not just because nadal won, but at triple match point, i saw a look on nadal's face that, to me, told the whole story. exhaustion, desperation, on the verge of tears (and in about 2 seconds, that look was gone). if i were a photographer, that would be the shot i'd want, that i'd use to tell the story. if nadal had won or lost, that look said everything about that 5 hour, 14 minute match. as a photographer, i'm sure it's no easy decision what to focus on, at any one moment. so much of it is luck. and i imagine, you must always feel like you're missing something. and for an editor, the money shot usually reflects the outcome, whether it's expressed in a physical gesture, or a more emotional portrait.
but this is the kind of stuff i get to dream about from my couch. so i dreamed i took "that" shot. and i couldn't shake that image all day long.
my favorite writer offered his impressions of the semifinal match, with particular appreciation for how expressive nadal is (at 4-3 in the fifth, he observed "a trance-like bug-eyed look filled with exhaustion and maximum adrenaline at once" that he'd never seen before from nadal) and he included a fantastic, close-up shot of nadal's face (i love that his hair is all mussed under his bandana).
morning light.
morning coffee.
morning paper.
morning kiss...
all that, very, very good.
i love a day when i can drag my blanket from bed to couch, and watch movies from morning til night.
and i love any morning when i can drink coffee and watch some tennis on tv. throw in a bagel, and it's a party.
there have been quite a few opportunities to watch some great "morning" matches in the last couple of weeks, but work's been encroaching on my fantasy life. the other night, my favorite player started his semi-final match at 3:30am ny time. and for a moment, i considered staying up. but on a "school night," it just wouldn't have been smart. so i set the dvr.
when i got up on friday at 7am, i expected the match would be over. but as most people know by now, the match--the longest in australian open history--was only half in the bag at that point. i was thrilled that i had the opportunity to watch it LIVE, and that was before i realized how thrilling the actual tennis would be. within minutes, i was riled up: OOF! NICE! JE-SUS! DAAAAMN! I even threw in a little tagalog--"PUNETA!" i'm not even sure what that means exactly. but you get the idea.
at a certain point, i just felt bad for both of them. they'd sit at the change overs buried under ice packs, looking more and more disheveled. and yet the quality of the tennis remained stunning. who would crack first? i almost couldn't bear to watch them push themselves and each other, physically and mentally--it was a relief for me to have to get ready for work. when nadal would seem to struggle, and play defensively, or verdasco would crush a winner, i'd start poking around in my closet, distracting myself with decisions like, skirt or jeans? black tights or grey? striped sweater or solid?
but by the middle of the 5th set, i was sitting on the edge of my couch, fully dressed, with my black north face jacket on. zipped. i was already late for work. but i couldn't decide if my heart could handle staying--or if i would kick myself for leaving.
i'm glad i stayed. not just because nadal won, but at triple match point, i saw a look on nadal's face that, to me, told the whole story. exhaustion, desperation, on the verge of tears (and in about 2 seconds, that look was gone). if i were a photographer, that would be the shot i'd want, that i'd use to tell the story. if nadal had won or lost, that look said everything about that 5 hour, 14 minute match. as a photographer, i'm sure it's no easy decision what to focus on, at any one moment. so much of it is luck. and i imagine, you must always feel like you're missing something. and for an editor, the money shot usually reflects the outcome, whether it's expressed in a physical gesture, or a more emotional portrait.
but this is the kind of stuff i get to dream about from my couch. so i dreamed i took "that" shot. and i couldn't shake that image all day long.
my favorite writer offered his impressions of the semifinal match, with particular appreciation for how expressive nadal is (at 4-3 in the fifth, he observed "a trance-like bug-eyed look filled with exhaustion and maximum adrenaline at once" that he'd never seen before from nadal) and he included a fantastic, close-up shot of nadal's face (i love that his hair is all mussed under his bandana).
i don't remember seeing that expression before either, or even on that morning. what can i say, nadal makes you not want to close your eyes.
if your heart can stand it.
nice gallery of the semi-final via the la times here.
if your heart can stand it.
nice gallery of the semi-final via the la times here.
Monday, January 19, 2009
hard core
ms. lolo jones. photographed in nyc, by sarah a. friedman, for runner's world magazine.i've never really had a problem with finding the motivation to work out. if i don't, i go a bit bonkers. i'll hit the gym or do some kind of exercise 3-5 days a week, depending on how the work and social calendars align. and i eat pretty healthfully, too--lots of fresh fruit and vegetables, never skimping on carbs and protein, especially if i'm going to run. my goal has been to be healthy and injury-free, and stay in decent shape.
my last few turns on the treadmill suggest that i'm going to need to push a bit harder to stay true to that last bit. the new year finds me a step slower (step and a half?) and all of the croque madames, holiday cookies, and coconut cream pies are making cameos on parts of this bod where they are not welcome.
so, time to step things up.
and i'm letting ms. lolo jones lead the way. if the photos (by sarah a. friedman) in the feb 2009 issue of runners world (online here) don't inspire an extra 15-minutes on the mat for some ab work, then i just don't know...(and there's more than just eye candy, there's also an interesting breakdown how the core is engaged during different kinds of runs.)
Thursday, January 15, 2009
(afternoon?) delight
from "on the street....big bad plaid, bowery. january 5, 2009. photo by the sartorialist.some days i miss living on the lower east side...
getting up early on a saturday, and heading over to the essex street market to say hello to ms. anne saxelby (and getting schooled on american farmstead cheeses. personal favorites: brebis blanche. the grayson. and mmm the mecox sunrise...) and sir jeffrey, of jeffery's meat market (where kids can get a pig's foot for free). or skipping over to my favorite "appetizing shop" so that i could create a little herring smorgasbord at home...
this "big bad plaid, bowery" photo brought back some nice memories.
i really like the light here (does it look like afternoon to you?) and his hands-in-pockets (thumbs out).
*******
i've not been following the sartorialist for very long, but i'm definitely hooked. one of the things i've been curious about is how he approaches his subjects.
i found reuel golden's interview with him, re-posted on pdnonline (it was one of their top 40 online stories of 2008). he sheds a little light:
Tell me a little about the shooting process.
It's pretty quick. If I'm in New York, I will pick a certain area to roam, downtown, or Williamsburg or Harlem, and then head out with a Canon 5D and a 50mm lens. If I spot someone whose outfit I like I will maybe walk a half block behind him or her, and then try and stop him or her in a place that will make a good picture. You can tell from person to person who is in to it and will give you time and who just wants you to take the shot. As I've become more known it's become a lot easier. I generally don't pose them too much or move them away from the place that I stopped them.
What about the editing?
I don't shoot a lot and I'm picky about what I put up. In a very good day I'll get five shots, but most of the time maybe two or three. The biggest challenge is trying to look at the photos that I've got and then thinking how do I spread it out so I can have people constantly returning from the site. I look at where I've been and try and mix it up with different neighborhoods and getting different looks. It's not all about bespoke. Right now I've got a lot of high end fashion from the shows in Milan and Paris, so I can really put in some street style in there.
it suddenly seems ok to have a little "stalker" in me.
here's a link to the entire (albeit brief) interview. there are some good tips for folks who want to try to market their blogs to a wider audience (calla style? film snobs?)...
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