Interior Design as it is practiced

A long week it's been, including the running around and holiday shopping (well, not really, just necessities of the home and of life in general too basic to go into here).  Quite a few books have landed in the house as a result of last week's three day festival of books- some of which are destined for the bookshelf, some for the bedside, some for friends and such, some for the auction block, some for donations.  Although I did want to write a whole slew of things over the past few days, I haven't quite been able.  Instead, I will present an image where for the first and most likely last time in my place, you will see a pile of books on top of which is placed a plant in a vase.  (Those who often look at interior design/desecration magazines and also so-called contemporary home furnishing catalogues will see this faux pas all the time).  Of course, I did it just for some cheap laughs and quickly moved the orchid back to its initial location.  But, unfortunately, the small stack of books remain as I figure out exactly what to do with them.  To be continued, although not necessarily in another post.

With that said, this weekend draws to a close.

A small corner of a room finds an accumulation of stuff for the moment.

the 6th it was

This late evening, continuing the chain of restlessness, I decided to put off my usual early sleeping habit and do something a little different.  You will indulge me by reading that I had half a piece of large chocolate, which I only mention because its sugar rush is probably one of the factors which is keeping me up.  Or not.  That, and I brewed a small pot of tea which is a lighter (weaker) version of the quality stuff that is usually drank, only because the intricacies of tea culture are not exactly needed or desired in the deepening hours of the night.

With that digression, I move onto what prompted me to write another post coming seconds after the previous one. While writing the earlier post, I had put on some music in the background as is often the case.  Now, I will have to say that music has never been something of any importance to me- I hardly live and breathe music, that is to say. But I do have a keen appreciation of it.  Sometimes, or more often most of the time, though, it is more background music.  This evening, though, my ears perked up when I heard something that was so recognizable to me.  I hummed along for the most part, thinking to myself that here was another one of the predictable pieces that I often listen to.  Now, you must understand that for the most part I only listen to a few things over and over again (case in point is Bruckner's 7th).  When I realized what it was (Beethoven's 6th, which I have not played or listened to for over twenty plus years), I was quite shocked because I remembered where it was that I had heard it so many times.  In the place where I grew up, we did not have any classical music or much music in general (the majority of it being pop)- a Time Life edition of Beethoven's 6th was the only record we had, and I remember that I used to listen to it many many times with the headphones on.  I also recall that I wondered where were the other symphonies (I did have a tape of the 9th in high school, though, but that was part of a quite forgettable class).  It is easy to speculate on what this work meant/means to me, but that kind of monologue is best saved for another day, another time.

What I do know is the joy that listening to this brought me back to someplace far away, long before I knew who I was, before I even began to have the right kind of dreams.

here, there, and not still, and still

The past few days have found me not really concentrating at all, having mostly to deal with a bit of nonsensical activity which has despite its worthlessness lined the pockets with some greenbacks. But, much like the kind of work that is done only for money's sake, it takes away from the reality of what I could be doing in its stead.  For example, I could take a few moments and write here instead- but the sheer intensity of the activities stop both mind and body from working in the correct way.  That is, to say, I lose myself, and that is something which years of resistance to compromise makes me wary.  But, worry not- as this is only a temporary scenario, and I only wanted to mention it for mentioning's sake.

Now, to lose oneself to beauty is an entirely different thing. Old friends who know or knew me will know or knew that the city used to have more than its share of allure for me, being a child of the city.  Years having thus passed this way, I have over the last ten years moved toward the other extreme despite still living in the urban jungle.  But, there's always something keeping me here.  Somehow, there always is...

With all that said, there is a little garden in my neighborhood, a short walk away, which I pop into now and then.  Anyone with even scant knowledge of New York City will immediately conjure up images of its skyscrapers and maybe some will offer up Central Park (albeit with horse drawn carriages, the stock and trade of the tourist industry no thanks to the paper thin sentimentality of hollywood).  What I like- no, love, instead are the secret places that I hardly ever reveal.  Or at least, not on a blog- but I will share a photo of the place where for me, the city fails to hold its allure, and the hint of something much more beautiful begins to erode at the cold heart of even this jaded fool.

Along its pathways never quite walking alone

A moment before.

To say that I have been inactive would not be far from the truth, but for the quickest of moments, that statement would be turned upside its head.  After a few days away attending the Book Expo America, I have yet to gather my many conflicting and new thoughts for a day by day recounting.  So, this is very much a short post to say that all is well, or as well as can be, and that there will soon be a return to the more daily rigors of writing (as it very well should be).

The path ahead is both light and darkness.

Wedding, Stillness and Radiance

Yesterday was the wedding of one of my oldest pals in the world, and it was a round of events that took me as far afield as Staten Island for the ceremony itself to Flushing Queens for the dinner in the evening.  Now, it would be an exaggeration to say that I am not in the least interested in weddings- but yesterday I was able to enjoy myself by seeing the happiness that radiates from the couple (of course!) as well as their family and friends.  But, as usual, it shows how time moves on in its many many ways- some melancholy, some funny, some joyous.  It's all good.

A moment away from the wedding party found this silence.

An update as the end approaches.

As the approach of the end of the world is now seriously upon us (there being less than an hour left as I write this), I will have to say that I spent this saturday in pretty much the same way that I always do- having an ordinary lunch with all you can drink diet coke, trying out new teas (today something called "chinese flower"), talking to my pal Will (the tea Will, not the boxing lover) and getting a sample of the new stock from taiwan, walking around the usual nolita bookstores, getting a few laughs from the products as Partners & Spade, et cetera.

Also, if you have been following me, then you may remember that I posted about the new phone I upgraded to.  I was very displeased when I found out that the system was unable to either simply read a Japanese website and impossible to type in Japanese.  Now, this seems a basic enough function, but try as I might, I was unable to find a method to change the system by myself.  Fortunately, with the help of my new friend Taizo, all is sorted out now and I need not venture into the slippery slope of acquisition and trendiness that is the world of the Iphone.

With that said, I must now go enjoy the remainder of this world, 23 minutes and counting- but knowing that if the Rapture does come for my wicked soul, then at the very least I will have a fully functional Japanese reading and writing capable Blackberry Torch.

Is there time for another cuppa?

Dear tomorrow,

There is a rumor in the air by some that the end of the world is coming soon- tomorrow, to be exact.  As to the accuracy of such a statement, we will have to wait until tomorrow comes- that is, unless one is overseas (in Japan, for example)- because tomorrow is already there.  And, there is no end of the world there yet, unless one means morally, culturally, and et cetera.

Now, should the end of the world really be here, I will have to say that there are still many things that I am afraid I never did. Quite a number, actually. No need to go into them here.

But at least I can use this to say a final hello and "goodbye" to everyone. Although I'm sure we'll meet again, possibly quite soon, and I don't mean in heaven (or hell).

Light.

A question

The sun will come out tomorrow?

And happy birthday to one of my best friends.

The silence that rings through

Over two months having passed since the earthquake that rocked Japan- one thing is obvious.  It has shown that time, as ever, goes on in its own way- neither good nor bad.  It stands outside of the unthinking, non-acting individual.  Only through scattered news reports and small postings from friends and family do I realize the extent of the damage, and even then, there is a feeling of distance and uselessness.  That, though, is entirely my own fault. Whatever responses have been made seem only on the surface- the reality of the situation is not only for rebuilding but for a total reexamination of what the place has become. It is the heart which has been paved over, clouded and obscured by many many things. Until that truth is revealed in its impure baseness and addressed, the extent of the real damage can never be dealt with.

A little more and a lot less

In my daily life and frequent visits to the bookstore, I  find myself faced many a time with a dilemma- whether or not to purchase a book.  Now, this does not stem from any monetary concern (at least, not most of the time- as the books in my sight are rather inexpensive with some notable exceptions), but rather from always wondering where I shall put them.  I know that this has been the subject of a post before, in relation to bookshelves, but today I wanted to add two other bits- one is something a friend (now lost) told me which I always think of (something along the lines of "imagine that every one of your possessions is a string, and then think of the giant web of strings that is tied to your life") and second is that I have a friend who is a class A Hoarder (exactly like the people from the tv show minus the dead animals and rotting food).  So, despite my picking up books often, I find myself often having to get rid of them as well- I cannot stand the idea of books everywhere. Unfortunately or quite fortunately, I will never pick up the ludicrous habit of stacking book upon book and then accessorizing it with a vase or some other nonsense- that bit of interior desecration will never be part of this or any other place which is mine/ours.  With that said, I offer an image for the hoarders in the audience- time to clean up, clean out.  As for the excuses, I suggest spending the time calling 1800GOTJUNK instead.

never too late for spring cleaning.

Ghosts (8 years)

A couple of nights ago, I had the urge to move things around in my bedroom.  Everyone needs a change now and then- small, medium and large scale changes.  So, it was with glee that I started rearranging the furniture and doing some quick paced interior decorating (or "desecrating" as Frank Lloyd Wright aptly stated).  Nonetheless, it was an hour or two down the drain, as I decided to return everything to its original position.  The only difference was that I cleaned the dust of years from my bookshelf, which had not moved since I first occupied this space.

The only thing to come of this was an interesting photo, which has many little strange grey colored balls which I have always attributed to being 'ghosts'. Well, looking it up the next day, I found that they may in fact be dust particles that are reflected therein.  What a let-down.  I think I'll stick to the 'ghosts' theory.

and 27 more make 300

Taking an even longer break than usual, I detoured into the art store to check out the selection of materials. Lo and behold, the shock that greeted me when I found out that the sketchbook that I have been using for many years (since the late 1990s) has undergone change.  Not the usual change for no reason that happens in relation to the graphics, which is often for the worse, but they actually decided to change the size format.  To add affront, the ISBN number is exactly the same and the size indicated on the cover is the same as the older version.  So, to make matters more complicated should I try to find the original, I will have to speak with whoever is in charge of the inventory wherever that may be.  The store that I usually get it from no longer has any stock, and so I went to the only other place and picked up a grand total of 27 books.  Why this number, you may ask?  Because I am currently at Drawingbook Number 270, and I have three more in my closet.  After adding these 27, it will become an even 300, which I have decided will be the final one in this series (should I be alive and able to complete them).  What happens after that is anyone's guess.

The box that contains the 27 new sketchbooks.

Moments of silence

It was and is still quite a long day with the mind wandering many places but not focused on anything in particular.  Deciding on what to have for lunch was a chore in itself, and only after turning the idea over did I spontaneously wind up at a very old place that I must have ate at only once in my life despite having walked by there many many times.  It was made better by the atmosphere inside, which was a mix of the old and the new- though mostly the old.  What was most startling was how quiet the place was- there was no television, any form of music or much in the way of talking.  It was brilliant to be able to sit there with the luxury of being able to eat in relative silence, and I expect I will be going back again quite soon.

An Object not to be used but for display

A little while back, I was looking through the thrift stores to scout some books. Of course, I often wind up empty handed, which may be better than actually buying something and having to find out where on the bookshelves to place them.  The reason for this, as an older blog post mentioned, is the absolute lack of space.  Anyway, I did not find any books (as my want list is incredibly small anyway, consisting mainly of rare art/architecture books and a slew of nonsense paperbacks of mostly the mystery genre), but I did walk away with a fun piece that I seem to have seen somewhere before.  Try as I may, I could not place it. It did not have any markings to speak of. The shape and the colors (despite their being some chipping) are brilliant, and quite fun. Now, of course, I will not use this as a candle holder (which it is), but rather just as a stand alone piece.  I do wonder, though, whether I should somehow make a series based on them. But I suspect that will be one of the many projects that fall by the wayside.  Or not.

An object to join other such objects.

Happy 5th Birthday and Goodbye

Not being overly sentimental or nostalgic, I have to say that my Motorola Razr phone has served me incredibly well over the past years, but as with any of the products these days built for planned obsolescence, it has over the last half year or so not been functioning properly.  Yes, I have tried to replace its battery (twice), but the fact of it is that it has ceased to work.  Old age for a phone having been already reached- I know of nobody who has a phone that has lasted longer- it is time to bid it adieu.  So, it was on the day after its fifth birthday that I decided to switch phones- to the only one which I thought could serve its aesthetic and formal purpose- the Blackberry Torch.  Yes, I contemplated for quite some time the Iphone as I am a Mac user (although the crash of my computer a few months back has made me a suspicious one) but can't get over the trendiness of their products.  I would also have to say that the recent advertisements in Monocle for the Torch were executed brilliantly (despite the fact that I found out that they were mock-ups filmed in London and not the Swiss Alps) and seeing an extremely attractive person seated next to me yesterday at lunchtime owning a Blackberry helped to seal the deal.   Serious things are serious, but shallow things sometimes are quite fun too.

out with the old, in with the new.  in black, of course.

Comical

Yesterday being the Annual Free Comic Book Day, I decided to pop my head into one or two comic book stores to see what was on offer.  Forbidden Planet not being what it used to be, of course- as my memories of it were fueled by its original location (where a shoe store is now, directly across from the Strand), I found that the always organized Jim Hanley's near the Empire State Building had a wonderful selection of the available books slated for this year in addition to some extras that they chose to throw in for first timers. Also for the first time, I was greeted with a handshake by one of the employees- although truth be told that in earlier days I was recognized (and maybe still am by the older employees).  Of course, these days, as I buy at most a few comic books a year (if a Groo mini-series is being published) or none at all (quite likely, unless I think of something from the past that strikes my nostalgic fancy), I can hardly say I am a good customer.  Even then, I would get it from the superior Roger's Time Machine (where, incidentally, I have some credit for books I traded in).  With all these random digressions that would tax any editor, I offer the following image of the relatively small stash from yesterday, with my personal favorites in the front.

John Stanley free fun and other nonsense to waste a little time

Against Human Nature

Inaction and the inability to do things are two common faults of mine, and this is often manifested in daily life with a degree of guilt. But as with many things, the constant onslaught of nonsense serves to overwhelm but not utterly destroy the sense of what should be done.  The smallest example would be the writing of a blog entry- which is not absolutely necessary but which deep down does seem quite important (despite the fact that it is written solely for myself and perhaps a few others).  To dig deep, or even to touch on the mere surface (as today may), is a chance to have a means of expression brought forth, and without knowing, I am subconsciously glad for it.

Offered up today is an image of the rather strange park near me, which sometimes has people in it, but more often than not is empty.  I find myself walking around it sometimes, whenever the mood hits me.  Most recently, they have planted some new trees, plants and whatnot in it, but I find that the growth of wild weeds quite beautiful.  It is nature taking back its rightful place in the world.

Wild Weeds (After Loren Connors)

12 Signs

A rainy morning found me quite willingly at the unveiling of the public art exhibit of Ai Weiwei's Zodiac Heads, which is featured prominently at the Pulitzer Fountain in front of the Plaza Hotel.  Because of the nature of the opening (not so much political as logistical), which featured the appearance of the Mayor (this being public art), many were cordoned off at the gates.  As might be expected, we were front and center, or at least I was (standing next to two fellows whose large umbrellas covered me quite nicely, thank you).

Well, I won't say much about the exhibit except that it is a work which I find to be not to my aesthetic "taste." but that is not matter, as the whole nature of its conception and the history behind it is incredibly fascinating- based on a series of similar zodiac heads that were created by foreigners to be placed in the Chinese summer palace and then looted, only to have some resurface years later (including at the much maligned auction at Christie's, and then reconfigured and recreated in a new form by Ai Weiwei and now presented for the city of New York temporarily.  To add a bittersweet level of the political to this, the artist Mr. Ai has now been detained by the Chinese government for 31 days now- and no word seems forthcoming.

The unveiling ceremony with the Mayor and the sponsor next to him.

Zodiac Heads lined up around the fountain.

 And the rain continues beating on.

One side note is that there is a concurrent exhibition running at the Arsenal Gallery on 64th Street and 5th Avenue, which shows some photographs of the creation of the work and some of the previously mentioned background history of the original inspiration.   There is also a short video by Alison Klayman (she who is making a documentary on Ai Weiwei entitled "Never Sorry") created for the project.  It is worth a look see, and it is especially fun for those who have never been inside the curious Arsenal Building, which had its history as "the first home of the Museum of Natural History from 1869 to 1877," and is a mysterious blend of the old and the new.

A photo of Mr. Ai in the show and a plaque of the Arsenal

The Arsenal

Silver, never Gold

Union Square has no lack of statues- in particular, one of Gandhi has pride of place, although one would never know he was there for all the activity around him.  In the past few weeks, they've propped up some sort of public art piece, a silver figure of the artist Andy Warhol.  Now, anyone who has even the slightest inkling of art (or maybe knows absolutely zilch about art) will have heard of him and probably recognize some of his work.  I myself used to look into his activity when I first started out, but I often found that his art (in various media) was not interesting but as a reflection of what art as culture can contribute to society.  Whether this is a positive thing or not in relation to Warhol (I do not say "Andy" as many people do, as I do not feign familiarity with him) is another matter entirely.  That topic is best discussed at a later date, but I do leave you with the fact that those who seem to feel that they are following in his footsteps do so only on the surface- with none of the aura and all of the commercialism.

In reading about Ai Weiwei, I was surprised to learn that there was one book that he read and liked in his time in New York.- The Philosophy of Andy Warhol.  So, I picked it up- in all its non philosophical flatness.  After perusing a few pages, I remembered that I had read it before (and promptly forgotten it).  My partner said the same thing.   Philosophy, indeed. Now, if ever Mr. Ai is released, I would like to ask him whatever did he find so interesting about the book.

Although I will have to offer the following statement of his: "They say that time changes things, but actually you have to change them yourself,"

Twisted

Although it has been said (and noted) that the growth of bonsai trees are not good feng shui, I do find them quite entrancing whenever I get to see some nice examples of such.  Having attended this past Sunday the Sakura (cherry blossom) festival in Brooklyn, there were exhibited a small number of bonsai to be appreciated.  It got me thinking whether I wanted to own one, but as usual, I decided that perhaps it is best not to.  For exhibit A, I would like to offer the following example- a really beautiful bonsai (about seven hundred years old at the time) that was taken from its natural environment and which almost a hundred years later wound up in the collection of a "famous" bonsai master.  Not being a "master," the tree withered away, leaving only its gnarled (but magnificent) trunk.  I guess that with the exception of some house orchids, I would have to say that it best to appreciate nature in nature.

twisting, turning.  glorious.

the superior bonsai against a weak orientalized background

Opening remarks

A pleasant enough weekend and May has arrived quite splendidly.

An orchid flower joins a cherry blossom from yesterday.

Today, one of the orchid flowers fell gently onto the table, led by a small gust of cool wind. But it graced us with its beauty for a little while- and so, it was not sad at all.  The same with people who come and go who bring some measure of the beautiful in life.  Mourning is for the guilty.

I watched a beautiful documentary today in anticipation of tomorrow, of two artists.  There was no pretense there, and the issue of what art could be was again brought to the forefront. What is Art?  In the film, one artist commented that perhaps making art was itself immoral. Perhaps, but only if it has nothing true behind it.

This afternoon, I made myself some Earl Grey tea of the Twinings variety.  Now, this is a leftover from my days of high school when I used to go to cafes with a certain person, and drinking it evokes the memory of this person.  But today it seemed to have lost its every flavor, as if it had been sitting on the shelf for too long- like some memories.

Earl Gray always reminds me of that corner table at Caffe Reggio

Just some small nothing thoughts to open the month.