:::Homebodies:::

The Strawberry Bathroom

2012-02-06T11:08:00.000-05:00

I grew up in Michigan with this bathroom that I shared with siblings. Isn't it wild? I think it was completed in the '70s when I was little or unborn, because I have no memory of seeing it for the first time. Now when I see it, I'm shocked at the wall-to-wall-to-ceiling coverage. It always makes me smile, and whenever friends and family visit, they ask to go upstairs to see "the strawberry bathroom."

My mom, pictured above in a high school portrait, definitely had fun here, unlike my father, whose duty it was to paper the corners, around the vents, over the shower hood, which I think is upholstered in matching material (I accidentally deleted the picture), and around the plumbing and the vanity. Nightmare! Below are strategic photos taken with great concentration, as you can see in my face in the mirror; one of my siblings uses the space for extra storage--a bookcase here, a world globe there--and those pieces, unlike everything else in the room, are not plastered with strawberries.

See you February 6...

2012-01-09T08:59:00.019-05:00

I'm going to blog monthly for a while, with posts beginning on the first Mondays of the month, so I can focus on my "long-form" writing, as they call it. I have a number of essays that need some attention, and I can't wait to hole up and work.

Check back in a few weeks to see my Nana in Michigan or a gallery/home Kansas or maybe Tuxedo Park, New York, or...? I'll still be on Twitter and Facebook and, when I remember, Tumblr, and you're welcome to Follow or RT or Friend or Like.

For now, please enjoy cake pops and Lucian Freud from my recent visit with author Adele Griffin, whose Brooklyn townhouse provides for some seriously glorious snooping.

Dinner party in Chelsea

2012-01-08T12:38:00.000-05:00

Friends Azi and Carrie hosted a fabulous dinner party last night--candles; wine; strands of pearls; tea candles (the lotus above reminded me of sculptures by Lee Bontecou (below), whose new work is currently at Freedman Gallery); Tom & Jerry water glasses; a perfectly cooked turkey that Carrie won when she blazed a Turkey Trot; lively guests, including a hedge fund manager whom I heard say worked in "mismanagement" (he actually said "risk management," ahem); an artist; a yoga teacher; Carrie singing Bryan Adams ballads in Chinese at 2 am; Azi with pens in his shirt pocket; flowers from Trader Joe's; not one but two kinds of potatoes; a full moon and full belly on the warm walk home.

Little girl's room

2012-01-06T09:50:00.000-05:00

This little girl's room had me longing for single-digit age. In particular I fell for the giraffe in the corner, an eternal guest at the knee-high tea party. Other highlights: beautiful wallpaper in the bathroom (walking with geese and other country antics); a scalloped bookshelf; a piggy and crewelwork; pale pinkness; chifforobe; little girl things.

Figment & a fur

2012-01-05T09:25:00.000-05:00

Book party! As I mentioned earlier, Young Adult author Adele Griffin was hosting this event at her home for another YA author, Blake Nelson, whose novel Dream School was published by Figment in early December. Guests flooded the townhouse, while Edith, above, on all fours, stood guard of the desserts, as well as her buddy Blake, who was giving a toast. That's Adele, below left, with her friend, author Courtney Sheinmel.

Also below: A photo of the tops of people's heads, because I don't like posting faces without approval (plus, so many cocktails napkins and hors d'oeuvres and open mouths!); A. N. Devers in her famous fur coat once owned by Edward Gorey; one of many foursomes; "Hold still, I'm zooming to get a close-up of your flowers;" men and women alike, we all tried on that Gorey coat; we emptied the hot toddies, too; gift bags, yesss; a goodbye from the street.

A moment with a doorknob...

2012-01-03T09:46:00.004-05:00

When I walked into the living room, which I prefer to call the salon, I turned to put down my wine glass--on the marble-top table, yes, where the lamp's bear base (below) stood serious guard--and the doorknob caught my eye. It caught my eye because it was though it had moved, which it didn't, but I was moving, catching the knob in the light at different angles, and I realized it wasn't opaque but was translucent crystal the color of ox blood (or Pinot Noir, depending on the references). I knew this door knob! Oh...

Years ago, I was an editor at Western Interiors & Design, a wonderful, now defunct, contemporary design magazine (with an unfortunate name; the investors were already in). I produced a product column, calling in samples of new flooring, tiles, door hardware, what have you, and styling the shoot. I requested this specific doorknob from E. R. Butler & Co. in this specific shade. The knobs were so stunning, with their subtly shifting color, it turned out to be one of my favorite columns ever. How I hated returning this knob, folding it into tissue and sending it off in drab cardboard. I haven't forgotten its surprising heft, like holding the world in your hand.

I've examined the facets and the shank and the beveled escutcheon plate and everything, so I'm pretty sure it's a Butler, and resident Adele Griffin said her architects at Meyer Davis Studio were very excited about using them, too. Besides, Butler's patent on the attachment of a denticulated crystal knob to a keystoned brass socket dates to the 1830s, so put that in your pipe and smoke it.

I wandered around. A casual gorgeous weapon adorns a bookshelf; dimmer sconces; this awesome drawing by singer-songwriter-musician-artist Daniel Johnston of Hi, How Are You; leaves; pup Edith in downward dog; another one of those lovely chairs with crossed legs, ladylike.

Brooklyn Salon (Part 1)

2011-12-30T10:01:00.004-05:00

A few weeks ago, I visited the gorgeous home of Young Adult author Adele Griffin. A writer of more than a dozen books and a two-time National Book Award finalist, she was hosting a book party for another popular author, Blake Nelson, whose novel Dream School was published by Figment in early December.

I showed up early for Homebodies, thanks to our mutual friend, A. N. Devers, who runs Writers' Houses, the fantastic site about authors' homes. Allison, as she's known, nudged me once at a reading and whispered about her friend, "She has the most incredible home! You must go see her!" Ms. Devers knows her writers' houses, that's for sure.

Fast forward a few weeks, and I've arrived, and I'm ringing the wrong buzzer. For a few minutes. So many floors! I finally figured out to enter through the lower level, which isn't pictured. It occurred to me only later that I didn't stray far from this first-level living room: I took photos of one end, and then the other. And the little girl's room. (Apparently exploring any space too much bigger than my studio apartment is terribly overwhelming.) Sorry, but I skipped the bedrooms, the kitchen, the dining room, another floor...

While the place hands down is, as one of the guests at the party later put it, "the swankiest brownstone in Brooklyn," it's the coziest, too. Adele was so laid back, and wickedly funny, and hospitable, even as friends tore through her wardrobe for just the right outfit ("boots or shoes?") and hot curlers came out of hairs, while her first guest--ahem--poked around with a camera and rested her glass of red wine on a marble-top side table without a coaster under it. Mi casa, su casa!

As I was saying, my photos are mostly of this room--one side, then the other, so note the two posts today.

Below: can you spot my glass of red wine? Legs & legs (I love this chair!); an elegant dusty blue sofa I wanted to faint over, Victorian-style, maybe next time; the collage above the sofa is by Arturo Herrera; the ceiling; a peek at The Other Side of the Room...

Brooklyn Salon (Part 2)

2011-12-30T10:00:00.008-05:00

...(continued) We are now at the other side of the grand salon. Lovely Adele Griffin, above. Do you see that silver artwork on the wall behind her, on the left side? It's gunshot sheet metal by Louisiana-born artist Margaret Evangeline and I love it! It reminds me of liquid mercury.

Below: the living room; ceiling forever; cake pops for the party; pretty leaf artwork by Philip Taaffe; swooping armchairs; swooping chandelier. Next week: the party.

Nana's new dining room

2011-12-29T17:17:00.003-05:00

Here's my 89-year-old grandmother modeling her dining room. And my sister's coat. Beautiful family, no? The new wallpaper is nice, too. Roses, she insisted, for here, and the hall and the kitchen and all the upstairs bedrooms...

I should add that she considered a shoe change, but I was impatient and didn't want to make it a whole thing.

Photos of the Brooklyn book party coming tomorrow!

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-23T17:50:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas! Evidence is seeping: I did indeed go to a fabulous party hosted by novelist Adele Griffin at her beautiful Brooklyn brownstone. I did run around in my black socks and take hundreds of photos. I did talk to authors and a gallery owner and a vintage-clothing dealer and dozens more writers while sipping a hot toddy.

I'm still going through photos, and I'm in Michigan now visiting my mother, who is part of the 6% of Americans using a dial-up connection. And I downgraded to a blissfully quiet dumb phone. So until I return after the holiday, reconnect to the cables and the world, have a wonderful holiday! Crown molding and poinsettias for days.

Black-sock book party

2011-12-20T17:54:00.000-05:00

I went to a very fun party! I wore my fancy black socks! Photos soon...

Upstate

2011-12-05T10:35:00.000-05:00

I've been away--upstate, or downstate, writing, holed up, and not visiting much of anyone. But I did get away recently, and got in some fierce games of Boggle. The focused feet, above, while I stretched on the floor after a run. "Sire, lie, lies, ratty, rats..." Below: a collection of stamps, our pile of shoes. A foot model.

Sorry I've been away!

2011-11-20T12:00:00.000-05:00

Happy Sunday! Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I've been holed up writing in my own apartment rather than hanging out at others', but I'll be back this week with some visits to Kansas and Cali, approvals pending. Until soon!

A Village loft

2011-11-10T09:28:00.005-05:00

A friend's place in the Village. Billboards at every window. The Puma Store, above. My favorite is the vertical H&M one. The Swedish model, with Lafayette as her runway, looks like she's about to stride into the living room and hurdle the sofa.

Back online!

2011-11-07T10:28:00.000-05:00

At long last, I'm back online! My internet was hooked up on Friday, and I've been as pictured above without the Bloody Marys for the last couple of days. I'm a bit out of sorts still, with AirPort not functioning, and files split between an old and a new computer...Anyway, here's what I'm looking forward to this week:

Checking out Work, the Tom Sachs show that just opened.

The nendo opening at Friedman Benda Tuesday night (where I'm meeting Sarah, whose desk I'm at in this photo).

The Jonathan Nesci opening at Mondo Cane, also on Tuesday.

A Sight Unseen party celebrating the launch of its online store on Thursday. Congrats, Jill and Monica!

Finding some homebodies to hang out with...

Writer Phillip Lopate: More trick than treat

2011-10-31T13:42:00.000-04:00

Happy Halloween! My internet is still down at home and won't be up until Friday, which means I can't upload photos from home, where all my photos are. (And I'm too much of a hermit and too absorbed in some other writing to go out in public to search for a signal. (Note the name of this blog.))

In lieu of a new post, here's a reblog from last Halloween, when I hung out with the writer Phillip Lopate at his home in Carroll Gardens. (Several posts are here.) Hit him up tonight if you're going door-to-door. He's the neighborhood trickster.

My internet is down

2011-10-24T11:43:00.000-04:00

So until it's back up at home, and I can upload photos from my computer there, here's a peony from last summer in Vermont. It's one of the only photos on my phone right now. I'll be back soon! Happy Monday.

The film office

2011-10-20T09:19:00.000-04:00

Continuing a walk around the apartment of filmmaker Jonas Mekas, above, I peeked behind a swooping red curtain and entered his office. On the desk is a stack of film tins labeled things like "Yoko" and "Dali" and "W.T.C." A portrait of his family hangs on the brick wall; he's the little guy in the front row on the right. Boxes and files and books are piled on endless shelves, and a pale-green monster of a vintage film machine (is this a projector?) sits at the entrance to the room. There's a mattress on the floor, a convenient crash pad.

Scribbling with my camera

2011-10-17T10:05:00.001-04:00

Last week, filmmaker Jonas Mekas, above, at his dining table in Brooklyn, told me he scribbles with his camera, taking notes on the scene. I loved this idea, since I feel like I do the same for Homebodies, shrugging off some kind offers from pros who'd like to take "better" pictures for me. But that's never been my point, and everyone has something to sell, don't they?

When I went over for dinner, an impromptu offer that day, I walked into the spacious apartment--books, film reels, tables with work stations, and a smattering of fluorescent orange--and found a crew of people scattered around: a woman at a computer, a German film student in a Batman T-shirt drinking wine at the table, Sebastian, Jonas's son, preparing to cook in the kitchen. "It's like a factory," said Jonas, who was close to Andy Warhol as a friend and creative collaborator.

Another guy came in. Then another. When I asked them both how they knew Jonas and Sebastian, they shrugged and said, "Lithuanian." Jonas is from Lithuania.

Sebastian cooked us all delicious pasta. The student, who's studying film theory in Vienna, explained his thesis, about the philosophy of Walter Benjamin he sees in Jonas's films. "Does Jonas see Walter Benjamin in his films?" I asked the student. "I don't know yet!" he said. "We'll see! I got here yesterday." We talked about work, and jobs, and freedom, and creativity, and scribbling, and--yes, thanks, more wine--and photography, and the history of Lithuania, and Palestine.

Before I knew that Jonas had made Sleepless Nights, a film about his lively evenings due to insomnia, I took a few photos around the apartment, excusing myself at the early-bird hour of 10:30 pm.

Below: a binder of "Pieces + scribbles;" a view of the apartment when you walk in; a cat; a cow that his daughter saved from slaughter, lucky cow; Sebastian holding a kitty, one of two in the place that loves to snuggle in boxes.

"STRAY cassettes" and Jonas Mekas

2011-10-14T16:32:00.001-04:00

The photo I posted the other day of the night's wreckage was at the Brooklyn home of filmmaker Jonas Mekas, whose blog I've been following since I interviewed him for WNYC. (Arts critic Carolina Miranda and I live-tweeted all eight glorious hours of Andy Warhol's 1964 film Empire; Jonas was the cameraman.) When our interview ended, I felt like I was only at the beginning of my questions with the avant-garde artist, who's also the president and cofounder of Anthology Film Archives in the East Village.

So here we are, months later, 7:30 pm on a Tuesday, impromptu dinner. I'm one of several guests in blue chairs. I'll post more next week, but for those of you in London, you can see Jonas's new film at the BFI London Film Festival, going on now. The film, Sleepless Nights, is about the eating, drinking, singing and dancing that fill his insomniac nights. (How tame. I left that night at 10:30 pm.) Tickets are still available, and Jonas is in attendance.

Below, the kitchen, a cold beer, and my walk to the building.... More next week!

Details. Hands, fingers.

2011-10-13T13:45:00.001-04:00

Well. I talked to Kevin Ink this morning, whose former apartment in LA I've been writing about this week, and I am shocked to report--and relieved with the news--that Kevin is healing miraculously after a very serious car accident he suffered more than a year ago that nearly destroyed his right hand. Actually, the accident did destroy his hand; doctors put it back together so beautifully that Kevin says he feels like now he's someone else's work of art: full use of fingers, movement, feeling. He's getting there. He's recuperating with family in New York, and he just emailed me a gorgeous photo of a mobile he's making that requires fine handiwork and miniscule ties--a Murano glass fly is suspended from the work with a human hair.

By the way, you can see Kevin's work in Ellen DeGeneres's house in this month's Architectural Digest. I think it's one of his mobiles, and I don't think there's a pic of it online. Page 146.

I had collected these images for a post that would show how detailed his work is. I remember one of his mobiles was held together with string, and I'd never seen so many perfectly uniform knots. Some of his mobiles feature straight pins that secure botanical pods. I always loved these, the combination of metal and found objects from nature. Kevin says when he woke up and saw his hand in a contraption with all those pins, "It was like something I would've made!" Needless to say, he's in great spirits, which, he says, is the only way to be.

Appreciate your hands today, and your life, OK? Some mobiles and sculptures and things, mostly around the bedroom...

Hand-knit, copper-mesh lighting

2011-10-12T13:38:00.001-04:00

Back to Kevin Ink's place... How beautiful are these hand-knit copper-mesh light pendants? In the earlier post, you can see that this cluster of filament bulbs hangs above a chair where he sits and knits these wire pods. Spools of copper and filament bulbs can be spotted around the house.

The wreckage

2011-10-12T09:57:00.001-04:00

I went to Brooklyn last night to hang out with a filmmaker who I'll profile here soon...so much fun! So much wine! Later today, I'll post more from Kevin's. Just as soon as the coffee kicks in.

LA artist Kevin Inkawhich

2011-10-11T14:23:00.000-04:00

Many years ago, in another lifetime when I was living in Los Angeles and working in a men's clothing store, I sold a tall man in bright green boots a pair of striped socks. On his way out, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his Leatherman, and cut off the plastic tag with the blade of the knife.

"What are you, some sort of craftsman?" I asked. Who carries a Leatherman around West Hollywood! (I'm talking about that multitool used by your everyday Indiana Jones.)

Sure, he said, he was a craftsman, or an artist, or a sculptor, or someone who makes things, often with plants. He goes by Kevin Ink, short for Inkawhich. As he became a customer and a friend over the years, I learned he often goes to the local flower markets at 5 am. I learned he makes amazing mobiles from found objects in nature. He also designs gardens, writes music, and he's walked the runway as a model for Yamamoto. He has beautiful hair.

See photos of his work here.

I recently found these photos--they're from a visit to his Los Angeles pad from a while ago. A long while ago. Above, the living area...that's his lighting glowing above the chair. Below, a sweet seat for knitting wire (I'll show this lighting in a separate post)...a figure...a workspace...boots...a painting space... a bowl of wire, beads, lights, rope...

I'll post more from Kevin's this week...

Sometimes you're the matchbook, sometimes you're the table

2011-10-07T11:34:00.000-04:00

You know? How is it Friday? I've had a matchbook of a week. On Monday I'll start posting pics from the home of the wonderful LA artist, who I can identify now as Kevin Ink. This photo is from Sarah's.

Happy weekending!

Sarah's Saarinen

2011-10-04T14:23:00.002-04:00

I love this picture. From Sarah's. On the opposite wall is her piano roll.

And I hope to post more on that LA artist...

Speaking of bedrooms, what's up with thread counts? It doesn't seem to matter what the high-three-digit number is, they all kinda suck. Where can I get good, soft sheets that aren't, like, Pratesi-crazy $$$? (And no flannel, thanks.) Help!

Anonymous in Dumbo

2011-10-03T09:54:00.003-04:00

On Saturday night, I went to Anonymous's place in Dumbo before going to the arts festival Bring to Light in Greenpoint, apparently part of the Nuit Blanche events happening around the world. We watched baseball for a while, meaning, I got restless and started taking pictures, and that's the reflection of the flag in the window during the national anthem. And that's the Brooklyn Bridge. Anonymous, I realized, as I entered his closet, has a thing for multiples: shoes, harmonicas, guitars, scarves. Purple shoes! We took wine in coffee cups for the road.

Below, one of the installations. It smelled like incense, the lights went on and off, and the bearded guy sitting cross-legged in front of the xylophone howled into a microphone. "Are we part of history in the making?" I asked my friend Naomi. "Or--?" More photos after the jump...

A lighting-and-video-and-sound installation by Eiji Sumi and others was controlled by an iPad sewn into the back of this gentleman's jacket. Elsewhere down an alley, people played with their shadows on big screens. Greenpoint, I realized, is so far away from where I live.

Fun finds from an LA artist

2011-09-30T15:25:00.001-04:00

I am so excited. I thought I lost the photos I took of an artist-friend's place in LA, but I found them! His place is pretty wonderful--odd objects, dried plants, spools of copper, bowls of metal pins, leaves, and wax. And funny little sculptures, as above. I need to track him down and get permish to post, so until I do, here are a few not-identifying close-ups. Actually, if you know this guy, these photos are incredibly identifying; you can't not see him everywhere, which speaks highly of any visual artist, I think. This guy is such a talent.

UPDATE: I can ID him now. This is the home of Kevin Ink.

I'm beginning my weekend with the desire for a test-tube measured beaker thing, like below, and a terrarium. Are terrariums popular again? Oh, no. Look what I've done. Look at the "vintage terrarium" items on eBay. Happy Friday! Happy bidding.

Bamboo shoots snafu

2011-09-29T12:04:00.003-04:00

One time someone offered to cook for me at his friend's place. I said yes, of course; she, the friend, had great style, and I thought it would be fun for Homebodies. He made something Thai, I forgot what, but I have pics of all the bowls of ingredients: limes, hot peppers, bamboo shoots, garlic. A mortar and pestle sat on the counter. Something weird happened over the exchange of a dried shrimp he offered me, like he wanted to teach me what it was, but I knew what dried shrimp was. Awkward. But why? What's happening? I loved the white counters, and the red curtains. We ate, and it was good, and when I left he was dancing with his tall shadow on the floor.

Anthology magazine: Woodturning in the Hudson Valley

2011-09-27T08:14:00.004-04:00

My reading weekend consumed me a bit, and there was little hanging out for Homebodies. But have you seen the summer issue of Anthology? In it, I have a story about the sculptural woodturner Joshua Vogel of Blackcreek Mercantile & Trading, who lives in Kingston, New York, with his girlfriend Kelly Zaneto. Check out their adorable home, with photos here by Seth Smoot. They get me thinking Country Mouse.

You can subscribe to Anthology here.

Did you see that the New York Times' new architecture critic, Michael Kimmelman, started yesterday? He began with a review of a housing project in the Bronx.

A reading weekend

2011-09-23T11:58:00.005-04:00

Happy Friday! What are you reading this weekend? I think I'll be finishing a few recent New Yorkers and beginning the latest New York Review of Books. Below, some links to stories that caught my eye this week:

Audio: My brilliant coworker Carolina Miranda talks to Studio 360 about the L.A. Chicano art collective Asco.

Also in radio: My other brilliant coworker Jad Abumrad won a Genius Award!

Patrick at Mondoblogo posted amazing photos of the Strandbeests, those zoomorphic wind-powered dune-saving creatures by artist Theo Jansen.

Everything on but does it float, one of my favorite sites, introduced to me by U of Kentucky architecture prof Liz Swanson.

Hot pink and electric orange as accents in this Berlin apartment on Freunde von Freunden.

Writer Alexander Chee visits the home of Sarah Orne Jewett for Writers' Houses.

See you next week....

P.S. The photo above is by Sarah Natkins, from our Homebodies visit. She consistently takes beautiful photos!

Tonight at the Glass House...

2011-09-22T11:54:00.000-04:00

I should've mentioned this earlier: architect and critic and this Homebodies subject Philip Nobel will be hosting a conversation with Gregg Pasquarelli of SHoP Architects tonight at the Glass House. Sure to be an interesting night. Maybe he'll live-tweet.

Above, Philip and Thomas are reading Philip's journals from high school. My worst nightmare. Notice the cheeks pinched in smile as they read aloud about time, gravity, the universe. Basically everything Philip still talks about. Below, stuff and surroundings...

Tequila & turquoise--life of the party

2011-09-21T14:38:00.000-04:00

For those of you who commented on how much you loved Philip & Nathalie's gorgeous wood floors or this adorable turquoise table, here's another photo. I personally loved the nearly empty bowl of peanut M&Ms pictured next to the table. There was a party the night before. Wine, tequila, and M&Ms, anyone? Ugh.

Below, the DJ; "my room," as I spent the night with a very large glass of water; de Monchaux's rock star boots; the kitchen, with leftover pretzel sticks. (Above, also: the black-and-white tub!)

The last photo is one of my favorites of Nathalie. The following day, while she was straightening up and I was in the bathroom taking a picture of Make Love--Not War, I looked into the dining room (with the turquoise table) and saw her casually hoist this Eames lounge chair over her shoulder and walk it back over to its place in the living room. Feldenkrais instructor. Former dancer. Freaky strong.

The crew: shoe models and bench warmers

2011-09-21T11:03:00.000-04:00

I'm sort of warming the bench, too, in the sense that I haven't posted more pics of the apartment yet. In the meantime, meet Nathalie and Philip, sitting outside their Cold Spring apartment with architect and writer Thomas (that would be toe-MAS) de Monchaux. Whenever I visit the couple, Thomas is always coming or going or staying--staying, if we're lucky. Philip and Thomas have since started practicing architecture together as Nobel & de Monchaux. And I am getting off my bench soon...

An architectural tour in Cold Spring

2011-09-19T08:51:00.000-04:00

As fans of architecture already know, Philip Nobel wrote in The New York Times this past weekend about the season ahead, pointing readers to scheduled and unscheduled projects from Vegas to Tel Aviv to Dresden. About a year and a half ago, when I went to visit the architect and critic at his home on Main Street in Cold Spring, where he lives with his girlfriend, Nathalie Jonas, he gave me just as thorough a tour, with gestures toward the sofa, the laundry room, a parking lot, and some glowy lighting fixture under a bird cage in the corner.

It's funny to look back on these photos, which pretty much sum up "before:" before the party they hosted that night, when all the furniture had been moved out of the way; before they'd finishing the dining room; before they'd opened up The Living Room, a health and wellness center in the retail space below. Until I can update with some afters, follow Philip to a time and place long ago, and I'll publish more from their charming apartment this week:

Inside the villa...last post from Italia

2011-09-16T09:15:00.001-04:00

Happy Friday! I'm signing off for the weekend, and completing my Italy visit, with photos of the villa. The countess who lives here opens up her public spaces for events like this wedding reception.

Have a great weekend, and check back on Monday, when an architect and critic will give us a tour of his home...

Inside Villa di Montruglio, a double staircase leading from the atrium converges on the second floor and leads to the main room, with a balcony at the far end. In 1714, Francesco Aviani decorated this space with elaborate frescoes of trophies, draperies, landscapes, medallions, urns, and other decorative objects. I think all guests left with portraits on the balcony captured on their cameras.

A few more photos after the jump:

Reception at the villa...and other brilliant wedding ideas

2011-09-15T12:05:00.003-04:00

The wedding reception was in the country at Villa Pigafetti Camerini, also known as Villa di Montruglio, home to one contessa, whom I didn't get to meet. Andrea, the groom, had told me that the villa would be open for us to tour, so I went straight up to the closed door and tried to open it. Locked. I tried again--he told me it was open!--but Contessa must not have been ready for us yet.

The villa welcomed us all later, so I'll post those interior pics separately, but here are some of my favorites from the reception (and more, after the jump). Since this may be the only wedding-themed post I'll write on Homebodies, I'm going all-out, search-engine-optimized servicey: 9 brilliant ideas for an Italian wedding reception!

1. Have it at a villa.
2. At sunset.
3. Serve pitchers of spritz, the Venetian aperitivo of white wine, soda, and Campari.
4. Invite an elderly host, in a pinstripe suit with pocket square, to serve as master of ceremonies.
5. Prosecco and antipasto for days.
6. Blankets and pillows on the lawn: perfect for kids on the early side, cozy for adults after sundown.
7. Pots of fire (kerosene) along the driveway. (It seems Americans are cautious of open flame, but there's no substitute. See 9.)
8. Dessert--gelato, profiteroles, tarts--in addition to wedding cake.
9. Chinese floating lanterns! Dozens of them. Are these legal in the States? Guests can light the base, and the hot air will carry them off into the sky. Some will crash over the grape vines, but not so far away that a pitcher of water tossed over the stone wall can't extinguish the fire. All that Prosecco and spritz you've consumed will help calm the nerves when the flames leap higher than you ever thought they might. All best with a full moon.

Click below for more photos.....

Views from the mansarda

2011-09-13T08:40:00.004-04:00

Ciao! I'm back from Italy, and jet lag is working productively in my favor: up and at 'em at 5 am! Until I finish going through all my photos of the gorgeous wedding and the villa, I thought I'd post a few views from Andrea and Elisabetta's apartment in the city center. It's a penthouse, or mansarda, so you can see terracotta shingles and steeples for miles.

But first, I wanted to thank Claire Chalkley for the sweetest email this morning about my blog! She lives in France and runs a flower shop in Brittany called Les Couronnes Sauvages, where she's invited me for a visit, which I hope to accept--someday. I love this blurb from her website: "A rightly gorgeous flower shop taming nature in Plelan-le-Petit, Bretagne. Ten minutes from Dinan. Twenty minutes from Dinard. Fifteen minutes from bonjour to bouquet."

Above: A wild cat creeps across the roof every morning--when no one's looking--to eat from a dish of kibble that sits on the window sill near the dining table.

Below: Overlooking Vicenza's rooftops; Andrea between the living area and the bedroom; the apartment building was built in the 15th century; the view from tiptoes in the bedroom; the happy couple, street level.

Veneziano floor

2011-09-09T15:45:00.007-04:00

Signing off for the weekend with this photo of the Veneziano floor in Elisabetta and Andrea's living room and dining area. Lots of legs.

Tomorrow is the wedding, followed by a reception at Villa Pigafetta Camerini. Can you believe only one woman lives in the villa? Poor contessa! I mentioned to my friends I would like to meet her for Homebodies, though the party will take place in the areas she rents for events. "But yes! She lives there. It is her home, so she will be walking around, of course." Cocktails with the contessa. Can't wait.

Have a wonderful weekend. More from Italia when I return to New York...

A nude, a niche, and three old bikes

2011-09-09T09:03:00.015-04:00

The entry courtyard at Elisabetta and Andrea's 15th-century apartment.

A 15th-century mansarda monolocale

2011-09-08T13:02:00.001-04:00

Sleepy greetings from Vicenza! As I was saying in my last post, I'm in Italy for the wedding of my friends Andrea and Elisabetta, who made me lunch today at their 15th-century apartment in the center of town. The home, a "mansarda," or--from mansard roof--an attic apartment with an exposed timber frame, has regional stylings like a Veneziana floor and tegola coppi, those curved roof shingles. (At least I think these are regional...) Old parts of Vicenza reflect the design influence of Venice at the time, like the prevalence of Venetian windows, which you can see on other buildings in the area.

Back to the lunch: Elisabetta made wonderful pasta, and set out prosciutto with melon, and cheese, and water frizzante. Then we tested out their new Bialetti Brikka to keep me from nodding off over my full, happy belly.

Below, the courtyard; Elisabetta entering the kitchen; living room; a man on the corner; Andrea setting the table. Many more pics soon, but naptime calls.

Matrimonio!

2011-09-07T09:33:00.031-04:00

Remember when I visited my old friend Andrea in Vicenza, Italy? He's getting married on Saturday, and tonight I'll be on my way to the wedding! I'm looking forward to seeing him and his bride, Elisabetta, and his brother Marco, and the relatives and futbol mates and old schoolmates. And maybe I'll visit some of the 23 buildings designed by the architect Palladio, who moved to Vicenza from nearby Padua when he was a teenager and established himself there. Vicenza is also home to Diesel, Bottega Veneta, and, among other fashion and jewelry brands and industrial goods for export, a U.S. Army base.

In this post are a few photos from my last trip to what I think is Andrea's former house. (Sorry: I embarrassed by the poor quality of these photos! I can't remember if these are iPhone pics or from my old ELPH, but I see now why I'm so happy with my Lumix.) Maybe I'll do another Homebodies on the new place while I'm away. With the Lumix.

You know what else I'm excited about? European dairy. Latte fresco tastes like real food.

A piano roll as wall decor

2011-09-06T15:23:00.004-04:00

Isn't this a clever idea? My friend Sarah hung this single paper roll for a player piano on her bedroom wall. The song is "I'm Sitting On Top Of The World" by Al Jolson. Some lyrics:

I'm sitting on top of the world,
Just rolling along
Just rolling along...

Homebodies in the Guardian

2011-09-06T10:31:00.001-04:00

In case you missed my tweets and Google+ posts, the Guardian posted a very nice write-up on Homebodies on its Life & Style blog. A blurb:

"New Yorker and sometime Weekend contributor Liz Arnold (remember this teeny Manhattan apartment, or the LA house where The Kids Are All Right was filmed?) doesn't like her homes too perfect."

Huge, huge thanks to the writer, Hannah Booth, who's been a longtime fan and who has a fabulous blog herself called Lives Less Ordinary, about all sorts of interesting people.

Collecting. Favorites.

2011-09-05T03:48:00.013-04:00

In honor of Labor Day here in the U.S., here's a post about making things. In China.

These are Sarah's Zhang Xiaoquan scissors, her favorite pair. From Zahid Sardar's description on SFGate.com: "A style of scissors has been made the same way in China for centuries --  ironic in a country that has in the past 100 years severed its cultural  and political ties with the past.       Luckily, the Zhang Xiaoquan  scissors, two pieces of forged steel each shaped into a hooped handle  and cutting edge held together with a copper rivet, was also a favorite  of Chairman Mao, who opted in 1956 to support the factory that has  produced these scissors for 300 years." These scissors "can be found in virtually every household in China."

Sarah, who heads up the New York office of the London-based design communications firm Camron (repping Kartell, Yves Behar, World Design Capital Helsinki, London Design Festival, and others) says, "They've  been in production since 1663. They're from the oldest-running factory  in China and are supposedly the product that has been made the same way  the longest in the world. In other words, there are other longer-running  factories, but their products have changed."

22 is her favorite number and her birthday.

Happy Labor Day! 

Bad Mouth & Blue Eyes

2011-09-02T13:06:00.000-04:00

Above, Sarah in her kitchen. That island is from Ikea--isn't it great?

Sarah and I met a couple of years ago at a Boffi event during ICFF, the International Contemporary Furniture Fair. She was talking to an Italian guy in a navy raincoat, and by the time the three of us finished our flutes of champagne, we had plans to meet the Italian for a fine dinner he would cook at his apartment the following Friday. More champagne was consumed. The Italian left. Sarah asked me how I knew that guy; I said I didn't, didn't she? We never made it to the dinner.

Later at the party, a short man in a snazzy suit overheard Sarah's sharp tongue, commented on her red lipstick, and promptly proclaimed us "bad mouth and blue eyes." "Our band name!" we said. We don't play instruments. "Our future DBA!" We're working on it.

Below: a skyline of plants on scales; Eva Zeisel's Classic Century dinnerware for Crate & Barrel (signed by the designer when she was our guest of honor at a party); typewriter and camera and my favorite Madewell dress; bedroom; lunch!; books; desk; weekend shoes. Happy Friday!

Poking around, red shoes

2011-08-31T09:27:00.009-04:00

While Sarah flitted about the kitchen in her red shoes, I made myself at home. This apartment gets so much more light than her last place (in the same building, as I was saying in the last post). I really love the navy-multicolored bag hanging on the doorknob! Great shape.

Here's her living room, and periodicals stashed under her desk, stacks of books by the window, hungry plates. In the photo with the fruit, I see now that the teapot, with the upside-down bird, is designed by our friend Jason Miller. I once heard that when a chain store you've definitely shopped in was unpacking their order of this dinnerware, they complained to Jason that the pieces were defective because the design was upside down. They didn't realize it was intentional.

A good friend is one who lets you drink Bloody Marys over her computer

2011-08-29T09:07:00.030-04:00

A few weeks ago, my friend Sarah Natkins invited me over for brek and Bloody Marys. "We can finally do Homebodies!" I said. Sarah, who was about to start a new job heading up the New York office of the London-based design communications firm Camron (repping Kartell, Yves Behar, World Design Capital Helsinki, London Design Festival), not only has beautiful taste, but she's also moved into a different apartment in the same building, and I hadn't seen the new place (As I'm writing this, it occurs to me that perhaps only New Yorkers do this, wouldn't you say?). She's been on my list for a while.

I'm also always game for stopping by for food and drink, especially if we end up Googling comedy sketches, as we, of course, by the end of the pitcher, were doing.

I'll post more of her place this week. Typewriters, design books, cameras, Ghost chairs...

Navel-gazing

2011-08-26T23:55:00.008-04:00

Pardon my navel-gazing--apparently it's been four months since I've posted?! Good news: Homebodies is back! I had to hole up for a bit to finish grad school at Bennington College, which I did in late June, and I am now the proud owner of an MFA in Nonfiction Writing, a diploma in a nifty leather folder, and a dramatic brown-black-and-blue master's hood that hangs without purpose from a hook near my door.

Since graduation, I've taken some time off from creative writing and have been gallivanting, also loafing, Amtraking, and visiting family in Michigan (above, navel-gazing at Mom's house: my past and future in a carpet of clovers, hose). I apologize for my absence. Consider this blog once again active.

More from the Michigan--the Small Barn (the Big One blew down), an inanimate owl that scares away...I think woodpeckers, the Big Barn's silo that still stands:

It's Friday night and New York State is in a state of emergency due to Irene. I'm home with my batteries, jugs of water, canned food I hope I won't need to eat, chocolate, wine. Stay safe. More soon...

Also, hello, Cousin Chris Malinzak. Thank you for always reading Homebodies in Ohio. Love to the fam!

W. 10th St.

2011-04-24T16:13:00.001-04:00

Late afternoon yesterday during that beautiful hour when it stopped raining and the sun came out and the birds started chirping, I left a travel-writers' happy hour in the West Village with Rolf and David and Jessie, among others, and accompanied them to another travel-writing soiree on a roof deck on West 10th Street. The host was busy with guests, so I didn't ask to do Homebodies--I'll just leave names and people off this post. Also, I didn't feel like working! Because look at the view! I took my white wine and cheese cubes and hung out near the edge, looking out and over and down. Is that a hot pink track suit? Later, a guy walked by with very bright white shoes.

There was a very elegant man in a tweed jacket and a fuzzy beige beret, and I followed his lead by chucking olive pits onto the moss-covered soil in these planters.

I stayed so late! I ate so many cheese cubes! Travel writers have quite good stories.

Hot-pink pump -- so you don't back into it

2011-04-06T09:49:00.001-04:00

I love this picture. I can't quite remember what's going on here, but that's my uncle explaining to my mother why his daughter, my cousin Andrea, came home to her house one day to find the pump painted a shocking shade of neon pink. "So you won't back into it when you're pulling out of your driveway! You'll be able to see it!" my uncle explained to her, when she called him to ask how the hell her white pump ended up looking so ridiculous. He repainted it, but that neon is hard to conceal, so it's sort of a pale pink, as you can barely see here. That stick he's holding is the color he'd chosen for the eye-catching makeover. Oh, my god.

I miss Homebodies, too...

2011-04-06T09:35:00.000-04:00

Greetings! I see I haven't posted in *one month*! So sorry. I miss Homebodies, too, and hanging out on Sundays with strangers, like I did with Mario, above. But there's good news! I'm less than three months away from finishing grad school, and I'll be back regularly when I'm done in June.

I'll be giving a lecture during the final residency, as part of my requirements for graduation, and I think I'm doing it on interior spaces in literature -- what they convey beyond setting. I'm working on an outline now...

More to come soon, here, I hope, but for now I wanted to drop in and say hello. Thanks for reading Homebodies!

Anthology magazine

2011-03-04T13:49:00.001-05:00

Have you seen Anthology, the new magazine about lifestyle and homes? It's beautiful! And I'm very honored to have a story in the second issue, which is the one currently on the stands. I wrote about the charming Dumbo residence of Jacob Harris, JDub Records' COO, and prop stylist Randi Brookman Harris. You can get a sneak peak at my story and see Thayer Allyson Gowdy's gorgeous photography here (and above).

While I was visiting with the couple one morning back in October (Homebodies-style for once (!), because they live in NYC and it was possible), Randi walked me into their bedroom, where we were greeted by a window washer, Spider-Man-style, at work on the seventh-floor. His red bucket, fittingly, matched the Eames shell chair in the corner. So design!

Working the Thursdays gig

2011-03-03T12:38:00.000-05:00

On Thursdays, I help a professor with her creative writing class at a New York college. It's quite fun -- I'm entertained all afternoon reading her students' fiction. (She's not a native English speaker, so I proofread for grammar and syntax.) I love reporting for duty, because not only is she funny and creative, and not only does she live in a charming Brooklyn brownstone, but she's also a fabulous cook who brings me treats while I'm working! How I wish every job had this kind of service.

Actually, when I'm at WNYC, hosts sometimes prepare my coffee when I'm not even looking.

"I broke my bed."

2011-02-25T14:50:00.000-05:00

Oh, dear. You know how I've been raving in recent posts about the work and the home of architect Corvin Matei--and his photography? Last night at 10:36 pm I got a text from him: "I broke my bed." And enclosed is this beautiful detail of the structure failure. Oh, man.

"I just touched the bed and it snapped," he wrote. Immediately I wondered if it was a West Elm bed; I've heard of this happening. Indeed, it is. And it's a king size, which is awfully cumbersome to deal with.

"Maybe you can replace just that part?" I wrote. "What are you gonna do?"

"So I chose The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri book to prop up the bed...tonight I will be resting on such chapters as 'hell,' 'paradise' and 'purgatory.' Sweet dreams!"

Also, I see The Complete Illustrated Guide to Joinery. Very funny, Corvin.

2011-02-25T13:40:00.000-05:00

The Ghost Project - Jessica Fleischmann from Kartell LA on Vimeo.

OK, one more post about Jessica Fleischmann, because she was selected by Kartell to participate in The Ghost Project, where designers and like-minded folks talk about living with Kartell's famous Ghost Chair designed by Philippe Starck. Jessica, a graphic designer with the studio still room, takes photos through the joints, and makes a great observation about design, revolution, and Tahrir Square. Watch.

Corvin Matei, architect (and photographer)

2011-02-23T09:55:00.000-05:00

Corvin Matei sent me a few photos of his living room, and I thought you wouldn't mind if I posted them (even though they're not from my visit to poke around). Corvin, an architect, is an all-around artist. His home is filled with his own drawings, carved tiles he made when he was, oh, four years old, an occasional architectural model, as seen on the bench above, collections of cameras and fans... See what I mean? Sheesh.

He built the bookcases below. Bookcases! I'm obsessed with the problem-solution in NYC that is book storage. I love this simple, industrial solution. The unit is quite large but lacks density; the metal rods are thin and elegant. That yellow book on the end, Hand-Drawn Worlds, features renderings--no straight edge, no CAD--from some renowned architects, including Mr. Corvin Matei.

Photography here by Corvin Matei.

Corvin Matei, architect

2011-02-22T08:23:00.000-05:00

This past weekend, I met my friend Corvin Matei, an architect, for dinner and a movie. We met two hours before the movie to give ourselves plenty of time; it had been, we figured, a year and a half since we last hung out? He lives on the Bowery, in this beautiful apartment he designed, not a fifteen-minute walk from my place. I have no idea why this happens in New York, why we don't see one another more often.

So we met downstairs at Peasant, and I finally explained to him that these photos I took for Homebodies, more than *two* *years* ago when I came over at 8 a.m. for the best light, don't do his place justice. I got a new camera, a Lumix he recommended, soon after I took these, and all my old photography looks terrible compared to the new stuff. "Corvin," I said, recalling the effort it took for us to meet up for this shoot, and how he cooked me a perfect omelette that morning as thanks, "we have to do another shoot! I really don't love the photos."

A perfectionist, he completely understood. We're doing another shoot. However, now that I'm looking at these pictures, well--maybe they're not so bad! And his place is so fabulous, I can't not share. So until I get that second omelette...

Here are a few shots of the guest room, where he grows plants and herbs he cooks with. The framed work below is a drawing by Corvin. He's an old-school architect; dude can draw. And how great is that fire door, which he brought in after he opened up the room? (He did a bit of arranging once he bought the place, opening up that wall, moving this one.)

What neighborhood would you call the Bowery at Spring Street? I tagged this post Soho, but that doesn't seem quite right...

Not surprisingly, we never made it to the movie Saturday night. It turns out that catching up on 18 months requires five hours of conversation, and a lot of wine.

My piece in today's Guardian Weekend mag...

2011-02-19T10:46:00.000-05:00

Remember Homebodies subject Jessica Fleischmann, and her adorable bungalow in Echo Park? One day a location scout came knocking on that turquoise door, and soon her home was being used for Mark Ruffalo's character in The Kids Are All Right. They had to dig up her garden! If you're curious what it's like having a film crew take over your house, read about it in print this weekend in the Guardian's weekend magazine, or here online.

Kansas loft and gallery

2011-02-12T13:54:00.008-05:00

Happy Saturday! I'm going through photos of homes I have yet to publish, and I realize I forgot about this beautiful gallery and loft I visited when I went to Kansas a few months ago. Until I finish going through the pics (I took too many, of course), here are few to give you an idea.

Kansas: high contrast, low stimulus, at least for this tourist coming from Greenwich Village. I do like it there, quite a lot... More soon.

Egypt, Red Hook

2011-02-03T09:56:00.000-05:00

Where are we in the week--Thursday? It's taken me a few days to recover from my weekend, I guess. After a bit of running around in Brooklyn on Saturday night, I spent the night in Red Hook at the home of my friend Philip. Philip of Fortbodies, remember? I slept in the boys' room, since they weren't visiting. I'm a top-bunk kind of girl, I decided. I woke up to drawings of battleships over my head. Dinosaur posters. Lego warships. And Egypt, of course. As Philip says, "Viva la Lego Revolution!!"

Living room no. 2

2011-01-27T20:35:00.001-05:00

I was doing so well, posting so regularly, and then I got sick! I'm back from the writers residency in Vermont, I finished up two deadlines, one for Luxe Interiors & Design and one for the Guardian's weekend magazine, and I realized I have this with one last post with my author friends. So, before I get back to my NyQuil nap:

At Jessie and David's, this room in the back of the apartment is often used for guests, but since the couple moved their bed up to the loft, this former bedroom is--could it be?--just an extra room! For reading, lounging, working, looking out the window at Seventh Avenue. Mostly, I love the red lamp.

A travel writer's airplane-style bathroom

2011-01-17T11:09:00.001-05:00

One of my favorite things about the home of Jessie Sholl and David Farley is the bathroom, where David, a travel writer, has decorated the room with stickers and images swiped from airplane bathrooms: "Please lock door," "Na Toalete nekurte -- No smoking in lavatory," "Open door slowly." Check out the lightswitch plate at the bottom of this post, which is covered with the cheery cartoon instructions for how to use the oxygen mask in case of emergency.

The Kitch

2011-01-13T10:36:00.000-05:00

I can't believe I haven't posted since Sunday. I'm trying to post more frequently. Can you tell? Before I explain the straightening-up hand in the frame above, I should tell you that I'm in Vermont at a writers residency as part of my MFA program at Bennington College. It's a low-residency affair, which means the program is set up so that we can do our writing from whatever city we live in, and then come to campus twice a year for ten-day seminars. I've been here since Thursday, and what with all the lectures and readings and workshops and whiskey (separate events, mostly), I'm a bit lost in the vortex, which is exactly the intent. I just heard pro squash player and classmate Ivy Pochoda, a novelist, give her graduating lecture on the experience of anxiety as seen in sports and literature. Of course, she killed it. (I mean, Jesus.) Before that, I was making espresso in the kitchen downstairs in my dorm and had an incredible experience with the window above the sink. More on this later. But first:

Back in New York, Farley built those shelves near the fridge in the Farley-Sholl kitchen. In New York City, dudes who build shelves for anything get major points. You need to figure out how to use all the vertical space you can. As I got the scoop on the shelves, Jessie came up from behind and swiped a glass from the table. Busted, cleaning up.

The sleeping loft

2011-01-09T09:41:00.002-05:00

At David and Jessie's in the West Village, open-tread stairs lead from the entry, cross over the living area, and lead to a small loft above, a perfect size for their bed. The skylight, sloped with the angle of the roof, provides light for the two levels. Jessie converses with Abraham Lincoln on the sofa.

Jessie and David stand the roof, next to the skylight, their bedroom window. Lower Manhattan is in the background.

A tour from Abraham Lincoln

2011-01-07T10:01:00.000-05:00

So as I was saying in my last post, I went to visit the home of authors David Farley and Jessie Sholl last weekend. When we came inside from the roof, their dog, Abraham Lincoln, above, met me at the door to begin the tour. The three live on the top floor of this walkup in the West Village. The double-story entrance features a skylight over the loft, where they moved their bed to make a nest-like sleeping area. According to Abraham, this was the most efficient plan, because now they have an extra room in the back that doubles as an office or as a private space for guests. Directly under the loft, below, is the living room, which leads to the kitchen.

Jessie, above, is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, telling me how they arranged the bookshelves next to her to prominently feature books by her and her husband, below. Jessie's book, Dirty Secret, is a memoir about her mother's hoarding. Jessie--neat, clean, organized Jessie--is definitely not a hoarder.

Abraham Lincoln lounges on the sofa next to an Egyptian trinket--I think it's an Egyptian trinket--he was given by his travel-writing pops, David. They might actually be related, something about the ears.

Above, Abe's bed. Farley's shoes. (We all just call him Farley. I can't believe I'm doing this first-name thing, "David.") Below, the entry. The loft is above. Get it? And the last pic was taken on the sofa, kickin it with Jessie and Farley, who's drinking coffee in a mug featuring George Bush with devil horns. Next: upstairs...

Writers Jessie Sholl & David Farley

2011-01-05T14:03:00.003-05:00

On Sunday, I walked over to Seventh Avenue in the West Village to visit my friends Jessie Sholl and David Farley. David is a travel writer; we met a few years ago in Israel. He's also the author of "An Irreverent Curiosity," a book about Jesus's foreskin. Jessie is a writer, too, and has a memoir out now called "Dirty Secret: A Daughter Comes Clean About Her Mother's Compulsive Hoarding." It's an incredible story, and one that understandably contributes to some anxiety about their (very clean, very uncluttered) home. She's actually going to write about what she calls "doorbell dread," and her experience being on Homebodies, for another blog, so I'll link to her piece when it's up. Until then, meet the adorable couple--married ten years today!--on the roof of their apartment, in what I like to think of as album-cover art for their nonexistent emo band.

Joey & Kelli Ruiter

2011-01-04T08:39:00.002-05:00

We're back with Joey and Kelli Ruiter at their home in Grand Rapids, Michigan, a modern little gem next to the traditional houses of my Nana and Uncle Bill. Joey, an artist and designer, isn't quite sure who designed this house, but it's an awful lot like a few layouts he's seen by architect John Black Lee in New Canaan, Connecticut (who I just learned is still living, so maybe I should try to call him today?).

This couple did a major renovation when they moved in a few years ago; now the place has concrete floors with radiant heating, an updated kitchen, though Joey says it was already ahead of its time, with built-in ports and stations; and a more updated, open layout. I love the original clerestory windows.

Above in the living area sit an Eames chair, of course, because Herman Miller, who manufactured the chair, is based near Grand Rapids in Zeeland, Michigan. Everyone in a 100-mile radius has old, new, handed-down, family-inherited Herman Miller pieces. The chair above is cherry and leather.

Joey drew the car below. The modular shelving (Herman Miller? Eames? I'm forgetting right now), which was left by the original owner, extends along that entire wall. That's my mom next to Joey.

Some shots of the kitchen below: the orange carpet squares lead to the dining room. The couple and my mom in the kitchen, on the orange carpet squares. Joey designed the stools. Mom was trying to style the shot. Too late! The pendants in the dining room cast shadows on the walls, ceiling, floor. Joey and Kelli say they're getting tired of these fixtures; they're looking for something quieter.

I asked them to pose. In the final pic, Kelli is standing inside the door at the entry, while I'm in the carport, and you can see the other end of the modular shelving.

Happy New Year!

2011-01-03T14:40:00.002-05:00

Happy New Year! Thanks to all who subscribed or stopped by in 2010. And great news ahead in 2011: I finish grad school in six months! When my schedule frees up a bit, I'll actually be able to hang out again and write about my last-minute or late-night adventures. Remember the good old days? I'm very much looking forward to it, I can tell you that much. Waking up at 5 am to write means I can't go to sleep anymore at 4 am. Lifestyle=changed.

Yesterday I stopped by the West Village pad of some friends, authors Jessie Sholl and David Farley, who'll be on Homebodies this week. I asked them to take a photo of me for a guest post for Chedva. I got to pose. It's my new profile pic here.

I thought I had uploaded the rest of Joey and Kelli's place but shoot, I was wrong. Coming soon...

Artist and designer Joey Ruiter

2010-12-30T09:08:00.013-05:00

Remember when we visited my Nana and Papa (and the fabulous Nana Bag) in Grand Rapids, Michigan? Who knew that next door to my grandparents traditional home--all beige, greige--is artist and industrial designer Joey Ruiter and his family, in a fantastic 1960s number that's much more my style? I kept hearing about this Joey guy from my mother: Joey welded my birdfeeder; Joey and his wife brought Nana the best cookies. Joey, Joey, Joey. "Mom, who is Joey?!" "Oh," said my mom, "Joey was in the running for the ArtPrize. He's a designer. Uncle Bill says his house is really something!"

Wait, what? My grandparents have fashionable neighbors? Well, I invited myself right over while I was home. The place is amazing. (And read what Fast Company had to say about his entry, the Inner City Bike, for the big-money ArtPrize in Grand Rapids.)

I'm traveling today, so I'll post more photos tomorrow. Meanwhile, read about Joey and get to know my new extended and talented family. Mom and I consider them totally in.

Bad things I did as a kid

2010-12-29T16:51:00.005-05:00

During the holidays, my mom puts all these adorable little vintage houses up on the mantel, on top of Christmas lights and bristly green garlands. The glittery things are small, they fit on my extended palm, and each one has a little hole in the back--near where it says "Made in Japan"--so you can thread in one bulb and light them up.

When I was little, I loved the warm glow coming from the delicate colored-tissue windows crafted on the facades. What brought more holiday joy, of course, was punching out these fragile constructions with my sticky child forefinger--the snap of the paper, the release in tension from how they were secured in their fine tinseled frames.

I'd elbow my older sister out of the way, or clothesline my younger brother in the throat, because we all fought to get at them, turning them over to find some virgin pane. Breaking these windows was the best thing ever, infinitely better than popping bubble-wrap, because these houses were rare sightings--seasonal. And bubble-wrap can be found any old week; it's not valuable or special or handed down from Grandma Arnold. Ugh, I'm awful. Pop! I feel better already.

The earth-sheltered house: land as a blanket, roof as a playground

2010-12-18T09:38:00.002-05:00

It made George and Alice just a wee bit nervous, but their five guests walked up onto the steep roof anyway, and it was so much fun! Rolf, in the white hat, led the way, and explained the terrain from the peak. I climbed up after Ada. Rolf lost his hat in the wind. (The Kansas wind! It's invisible in photographs, so this is good evidence.)

The house is sheltered on three sides, a blanket of land around its shoulders. Three-quarter earth-covered houses often have one side open to the south, as this one does, the solarium, to capture light and heat. It's very energy-efficient. And excellent to play on.

George & Alice's toasty sun room

2010-12-17T09:14:00.006-05:00

Back in rural Saline County, Kansas, sorta near Salina, this is the sun room at George and Alice's, also known as the parents of my friend Rolf Potts. Rolf lives nearby, so on the recent pilgrimage that a group of us made for his birthday, we spent a lot of time visiting with George and Alice, who were kind enough to have coffee and fruit and homemade baked goods waiting for us every morning in their kitchen. This is the sun room before noon. Isn't it amazing! It's an earth house, which means it's built into the land (Rolf's dad is an environmental biologist), but this side is open to the prairie and welcomes an abundance of light, making the room--and the rest of the house--toasty warm. Also, plants!

So cute: Mrs. Potts was a teacher. This chair is signed by one of her long-ago classes. Great idea for teachers. There's a nest in the tree! They found it outside.

The pup wants to come in, or she wants us to come out. Of course, we obeyed. Ada and I tried out the cowgirl-prairie look. Forgive my weird outfit; it was cold. At least you can't see my black sweatpants. Rolf and the pups.

Hans Neleman, WIN-Initiative

2010-12-16T21:45:00.001-05:00

I'm at the studio and Soho apartment of Dutch photographer Hans Neleman. I wrote about his and his wife's New Canaan home for the current Connecticut Cottages & Gardens magazine. Here, at the HQ for his stock photography company WIN-Initiative, he plays third head to the conjoined twins.

You know I love taking bad-quality photos of professional picture-makers.

And we're off to N 33 for drinks...

(via iPhone)

My mom went back to Michigan and left me...

2010-12-16T13:26:00.003-05:00

...a folded $20 tucked under the handle on the lid of my lentil soup! The morning she left, she said, "Anything I left behind was intentional." Funny thing to say, I thought, because I knew she meant to leave the stack of Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons, which I collect and forget to use; the mittens she thinks I should wear; and her travel toothbrush she'd like me to use to take to the edges of the bathroom's tiled floor. But money in the fridge? A nice surprise.

Mom's in town!

2010-12-09T22:14:00.000-05:00

My mom is in town from Michigan. Pause on Kansas posts while she re-caulks my bathtub with white stuff, not clear -- "the clear turns black, shows all the grime" -- and smooths the bead with a cut-corner credit card (or a CVS card she picked up) just like how Martha Stewart explained. Thanks, Mom!

I'll be back soon with a post or two about another Mom: Rolf's, back on the prairie. Until then, it's all about black socks in the bathtub and other such tasks. Below, my mom, right, with her sister in New Jersey, my lovely Aunt Jana.

Retractable maps, travel-writing awards, Kurt Vonnegut

2010-12-08T23:59:00.002-05:00

Above, writer Rolf Potts at his desk: a typical early morning on the prairie. He hates those glasses he's wearing, but we all have our dorky home personas, no? I skipped the opportunity to help out with morning chores. I think I'm not so into goats. I am ridiculous with envy over those built-in bookcases that Rolf's brother-in-law built. They're huge and wrap around the corner! Below, a cozy reading area that glows in the morning light. And that's a retractable map used as a shade over the window. Oddly, I was just searching eBay for one similar. It's all about old-school Nystrom.

Below, family photos, the Potts family history, and Kurt Vonnegut's butthole signature. A wall of medals and Best-American-Travel-Writing honors.

Books. Cowboy hat. Rolf's jump rope.

Rolf's Country Kitchen

2010-12-04T11:20:00.002-05:00

It's hard to imagine now, but only a few Saturdays ago I was sitting in Rolf's kitchen in Salina, Kansas, nudging a fork on the counter a little bit closer to the cowboy hat to create a better composition, and drinking an entire pot of black coffee by myself. The barstools at the counter were too comfortable to leave, so I opted out of the six-mile run that Rolf and Ada (she's below, on the rollercoaster), were about to take on.

I poked around the kitchen instead, not before Rolf captured my pre-coffee morning portrait with this newish, short-hair bedhead. That's the running duo in the living room behind/in front of/next to the kitchen, just before takeoff.

Have you ever gone running in Kansas? The wind! Man vs. nature! It's so windy that there's a constant force working against you, or depending on the direction, driving you forward with such gusto you have no choice but to pick up your feet so you don't fall on your face in the prairie dust. The Kansas wind was a constant mortality check: I don't remember ever being so aware of trying to keep my human self planted safely on the ground. This is the real reason why I didn't run; I needed another 24 hours of the invisible flogging before I was truly ready to take on the currents.

It's a good thing Ada, above, brought yummy Chinese cakes (purple box) from Arcadia in Los Angeles, because they were beautiful and delicious and look below at how empty Rolf's kitchen cupboards are! Tuna. Macaroni. Peanut butter. Rolf, a travel writer, says it's because he lives in this house only a few weeks out of the year. On a recent stint, he circled the world in six weeks without baggage, so I suppose these spartan cupboards could seem lavish.

More photos of the kitchen. No wind in the kitchen.

On the fridge below, pics of the family--especially ones of his adorable two nephews. One of them let me pet his black, glassy-eyed rabbit.

Empties.

Rolf Potts: Home on the Range

2010-12-03T08:25:00.001-05:00

At long last, we begin Homebodies: Homes on the Range! A few weeks ago, before I was consumed in finishing my third semester of grad school (sorry for the disappearing) and before tendonitis struck again (I don't know why surfing the internet doesn't love me back), I flew to Salina, Kansas, with some buddies from Bennington to celebrate the birthday of our classmate Rolf Potts.

Honestly, how often to you get an invite to Kansas that begins by getting picked up from the Wichita airport and packing full a white eight-seater minivan that your host-slash-driver, an award-winning travel writer, drives back across the state while explaining--in a way only a fact-squirreling adventurer can--the history of the area and its settlements, the birthplaces of the state's celebrities and fast-food tycoons, and the contributions of Kansas's great forgotten publisher, until you arrive at his modular home on an actual prairie and kick it at the goat farm with good bourbon and better company? Where I'm from, the tourism board's motto is, "Say yes to Michigan!" But I left the prairie saying yes to Kansas, too.

"Rolf, can I get a picture of you climbing up the stairs to your house?"

"Like this?" (The photo above; Yes, exactly.)

Normally I write some kind of bio thing about how I met my Homebodies guest, but I have absolutely no recollection of meeting Rolf, and, for the record, neither does he. That's sort of the vibe of the MFA program we're in, I guess. In June of 2009, thirty of us were thrown into a co-ed dorm situation and tried to figure out if we were supposed to share, boy-girl style, the bathrooms (no). Before not long, I found myself having endless chats with Rolf in the campus's many Adirondack chairs, which he refers to with affection as "the insane-asylum chairs." Fast-forward a year and a half, and check out the view of the prairie in the morning from the guest bedroom below!

Below, Rolf at his office area in the living room. On this morning, I'd skipped out on farm chores (his parents live nearby) and skated around his place in my socks, taking pictures of books, masks from foreign travel or Halloween...

and the exterior of the house in the morning light...

Kansas--soon!

2010-11-30T15:00:00.000-05:00

Hi. A quick note: I'll post Kansas pics soon! I have pesky tendonitis in my hand/arm, and I'm trying not to use my computer as much as I'd like, which is all the time, of course. I'm also finishing up my third semester of school and have been focusing on a few very consuming papers... Anyway, I wanted to drop in and say hello, and thanks for your patience. :)

Also, I'm launching a very cool new Tumblr site this week. If only, to spare my hands, I could tumble with my toes.

Homebodies in The Guardian

2010-11-20T11:28:00.002-05:00

Remember Homebodies subject Wayman Robertson? Today the architect and designer (and my former King Street neighbor) is featured in his small but space-maximized apartment in The Guardian's newspaper and online site. The photography by Mark Lund is gorgeous.

Check out "Interiors special: New York state of mind," and thank you, Hannah Booth at The Guardian (and of the blog Lives Less Ordinary), for reading Homebodies!

P.S. The first of my series on Wayman is here.

Views from the roof

2010-11-16T13:04:00.000-05:00

I love Red Hook. We went up the rooftop where Andrew and Jami live: views for miles. And groceries just below, on the ground level. It's a great location, if you don't mind the trek/bus/bike ride to the subway. Below, Jami and Interior Design's Annie Block, and the rising moon.

I went back inside to leave my empty beer bottle somewhere respectable before I took off. With no one inside, I could see more clearly the lines of this new table Andrew designed. He used to work only in right angles--big emphasis on only. Proof: sometimes people change.

And then, as I was heading out, I saw this installation of chairs on the wall, just inside the front door. How did I not notice when I came inside? Right, I was heading straight for the lobster rolls.

Andrew Raible & Jami Saunders, Red Hook

2010-11-15T09:26:00.000-05:00

Before I start on homes I recently visited in Kansas, I wanted to post these pics I took a few weeks ago at the home of furniture designer Andrew Raible and his wife, Jami Saunders, a photographer. They live in a gorgeous loft in Red Hook above Fairway, overlooking the bay. You can see the Statue of Liberty in the distance.

Andrew's furniture company is called Standard 41, and after I met him at a Red Hook barbecue a few years ago, I wrote about his furniture for The New York Times. The pieces in the above pic are from that collection. This recent event was to celebrate the launch of Taible, a new division of tables and seating. Lobster rolls and cold beer, said the invite (!), so off I went, with dozens of other design journalists, to get a peek, and to eat. Lobster rolls and great design sure does pull a crowd. A few pics from around the loft...

Below, the view from a main window, and young Alex, my friend Philip's adorable son, taking it in. After I took this picture he darted off to run timed laps in the hallway. I asked Philip to stand in front of the tiny stool so I could have a reference for scale. His twee foot.

Lovely Jami is an awesome photographer. These cute couple photos are tacked above the computer.

Below: a view of the room away from the window, turned slightly away but not out of reach from the bowl of olives. I also ate the very last lobster roll while admiring the new dining table pictured here.

Andrew introduced the new collection, while Jami, in the black dress, looked on with a huge smile. Andrew is a sixth-generation woodworker! He's quite the master--and it shows.

Bricks and grout: Frank Lloyd Wright's Allen-Lambe house

2010-11-11T16:00:00.001-05:00

I'm going through my many photos of Kansas and trying to figure out a few things: how many homes I shot (four!), how to organize those stories, and how to post the info so it's better--and faster for me to get to you. Too much to ask?

As I work on those questions, check out the exterior of Frank Lloyd Wright's Allen-Lambe house in Wichita. Backstory here. We weren't allowed to take photos of the inside (er, except below: that's in the entry, and the grout was dyed "ochre," said the guide), but I took a few of the outside and the grounds. What I learned: FLW liked strong horizontal lines, as we know, and to accentuate that on the exterior, he had the grout along the horizontal plane scraped out so the absence would create strong shadows. The vertical grout was extra-packed so it's flush with the bricks--no shadows.

I wonder if getting creative with solidifying materials like grout compromises the integrity of the structure? The ol' house was a bit, you know, wavy, from a number of angles...

Child's chairs and cats: the living room and kitchen

2010-11-09T13:36:00.002-05:00

We're leaving the Lopates for a while, though I realize I forgot, when I was writing about Phillip's library, to mention his regal campaign desk and excerpt more of that great essay. But now we're downstairs in the living room! I suppose I'll save those photos and do a few more posts in the future.

Also, keep an eye out for Phillip Lopate coming soon to a silver screen near you: The new documentary "Chekhov for Children" tells the story of his 1979 staging on Broadway a production of Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya" with a cast of fifth- and sixth-grade public school students. It's pretty amazing. Watch the trailer.

Above, Phillip and a cat in the living room, transmitting wisdom.

Below, the kitchen, featuring a painting (center, blue and green) by his wife, Cheryl. A cat lounges on the table, a prime spot for sunning or for daughter Lily to finish homework.

Below, in the living room: Maybe it's hard to see the scale, but that's a child's chair for reading. I don't think I've seen many upholstered child's chairs. Even child's chairs made of wood (I think they're more common?) are surprising to me for some reason, like stumbling upon any odd miniature, or a cross-bred dog of perplexing proportions. Come to think of it, I've never actually seen a child in a child's chair. Have you? I wanted to try out the chair but thought it didn't seem appropriate. Edith Ann but opposite.

At the Lopates', decorations stay up way past season. These Christmas-y stickers have been kicking around the fireplace--the "fire surround," as we say in design--for years. (The colorful paper lanterns hanging in the kitchen are from a recent birthday.)

Below, the front door. A family of boots. Until next time...

Kansas sunrise

2010-11-08T09:53:00.001-05:00

Good morning from rainy New York. I'm back from Kansas and looking out the window at the grey building about ten feet away. A green electric cord hangs down the side. This cord runs down the center of my "view." I'm trying to figure out if that's hail or rain I hear outside and can detect nothing on the windowsills.

I'll finish up with Mr. Lopate later by posting a few photos of his living room, where his artist wife won wall space to display artwork over his books. It's a very cozy room. But first, a few pics of expansive Kansas from the home of travel writer Rolf Potts. I can do without the dust from the dry plains, but the sunrise more than makes up for it...

The Lopate library, part II

2010-11-06T11:09:00.003-04:00

I'm writing from Kansas this morning, where I'm on a farm visiting travel writer Rolf Potts, who's also a Bennington classmate. A few of us from the June 2011 class came out to Salina to celebrate his 40th birthday. We're hanging out in his modular home, drinking coffee with cinnamon, instead of helping his parents, who live nearby, with feeding chores. The wind is roaring across the plains.

Last night, over bourbon and beer and Chinese birthday cake, six of us tried to determine if Phillip Lopate, the writer and Bennington teacher whose library is featured here, is the kind of stickler instructor who requires from students annotations on books in the final term. It's not the typical situation*, but rumor is, some teachers do. Our final term is approaching, and a few in the crew haven't worked with Phillip yet but will request him; he's perhaps the most popular instructor of nonfiction. But will he require anno's? He wouldn't, right? Anyway, where's that bourbon**?

UPDATE:
*Maybe we're wrong about the fourth-term workload. Coursebook says "selected annotations."
**I have no idea why we had it wrong.

Above, the author closing a deal. Below, Phillip's workspace. Good god. Files of current assignments, including some pieces for Harper's. Phillip wrote to me in an email: "I love it! You're turning me into a Collyer Brothers type." Carroll Gardens from a window.

Below, more books. These are all by dead Americans. Phillip's wife was a book designer who sometimes posed her handsome husband for covers. On Jim Cirn's The Big Squeeze, he's a gangster. In the Polaroid, that's him as a bloody corpse--another dead American. "Now I can say I've fulfilled my true dreams in life: to be an actor and a model."

And now from his sweeter side, and more prominently displayed, is a collection of essays, memoirs, and poems from his daughter. Lookout world, Lily's coming up.

This is the bookcase in the hall filled with English literature. Books he's written are on the top shelf, and passages are marked so he can grab one when he's heading out to do a reading. "It's not purely vanity. It's also practical." DVDs find a home in the only place that seems to fit, in the corner between the library and the bathroom.

Phillip Lopate's world of books

2010-11-04T15:58:00.002-04:00

In his office and library, surrounded by thousands of books organized mostly geographically by author, the writer and teacher Phillip Lopate sits at his desk at the center of a literary universe.

Phillip is the author of 15 books and seven anthologies, by our rough count, and a contributor to dozens more. These books are filed in a massive bookcase containing mostly English literature, in the nearby galaxy known as the hall. This room, on the third floor of a brownstone where he lives with his wife and daughter, is filled with Europeans, Asians, his sub-genre specialties like New York City, film, and poetry, and dead Americans. "Updike is upstairs now," he says. "He used to be downstairs with the living."

In the below photo, the shelves on the left from near to far are fanatically ordered: Russians, Germans, French, Italians. The Spanish and Portuguese are along the bottom. Around the fireplace are journals in which he's published. (They lived in the fireplace until a recent visit from the sweeper.) On the right side of the photo, film books take up half the case and he needs more room... Japanese and Chinese authors are on the other side. Poetry is filed in the last four shelves.

Below, a reading nook near the Japanese and Chinese, and the film books, and the poetry. The side table.

I'm skipping over a number of sub-genres organized to keep at hand. The tower of DVDs below, for example, are references for the essay film course he's teaching at Columbia.

As I said in a recent post, Phillip was my instructor last semester at Bennington. During the winter writers' residency, he read his very entertaining essay, "The Life of the Mind," about rearranging his bookshelves, "a soothing seasonal ritual" that happens in the fall. What a perfect subject for Homebodies, I thought! I just had to invite myself over. He writes:

"I started to hunt for a book to read, I noticed my Japanese literature section was overflowing, with excess paperbacks stacked horizontally above the tops of upright hard-covers, and others in danger of slipping behind the front ranks and disappearing from sight for years. The Italian section, I noticed had a little extra room. I could consolidate the two--but what connection did Japanese and Italian literature have, other than both countries having been Axis powers that fought against us in World War II? No, it would make more sense to move the Portuguese writers in with the Brazilians, and pair the Japanese shelves with the Chinese...

Before I knew it, I was cradling armfuls of books like a wobbly accordion. I tried to keep them in the same order, but whenever a book or two fell from my hands the whole alphabetical system was endangered, and I would end up having to file every one separately, which was what I secretly wanted to do..."

He continues (this is great fun, hacking away at my instructor's essay; the tables have turned):

"In a throwback to my childhood play with toy soldiers, I now control the movements of nations by dictatorially dispersing their literatures. Having rearranged the globe, hitched Spain to Greece and returned India to England, I am ready to tackle subtler diasporas. My books are distributed not only by nationality but by subject matter and genre, including categories such as movies, poetry, architecture, social science. Delicate decisions must be made."

On a related dictatorial note, on his office door, below a Valentine from his daughter featuring the name of one of his books, hangs a gift from his poet friend Ron Padgett, who took the liberty of sketching Phillip Stalin, Phillip Hitler, Phillip Castro...

More pics in the next post...

Mr. Lucky, king of the kitchen

2010-11-03T09:18:00.000-04:00

I've only just finished my work for school, three days overdue--yikes, so while I work on the library post, I thought I'd make a quick introduction. So, before we head up three flights of stairs to Mr. Lopate's library, meet Mr. Lucky, the great old goldfish who presides over the kitchen. Phillip and Cheryl's daughter won him years ago at a fair when he was small and golden, and to everyone's surprise, he's still around, now big and white. The knife in the previous post sits on the table in headband form.

Writer Phillip Lopate wishes you a happy Halloween

2010-10-31T15:08:00.001-04:00

No surprise here: the acclaimed author -- a "critic, essayist, fiction writer, poet, and teacher" -- is more trick than treat. Watch out this Halloween for Knife Man wandering Carroll Gardens, and visit Homebodies this week to tour his office and library. As impressive as the book collection is his highly organized system: books are grouped mostly geographically by author; sub-genres of his specialties have their own sections; and books within each section are alphabetical by author. Horizontal and vertical filing is acceptable; he doesn't at all find the jumbled mix "unsightly."

I had the great fortune of studying with Phillip last semester at Bennington, where I'm pursuing an MFA in nonfiction writing. Phillip, a provocative skeptic and a scholar with the mission to perpetuate great literature, is what you might call a demanding teacher -- the best kind, of course, a student can hope for.

And as a former student who may still quiver in his presence, I cannot help, as I look at the photo below of him sitting in a chair in the living room, to feel somewhat of an insane pressure to compose these next blog posts as if they're being considered for entry into the great canon. Look at the confrontational way he's crossed his legs -- red pen in hand! Blame the stage fright, but I've nearly forgotten that during the innocuous moment when I took the picture, he was describing the comforts of the room, designed by his wife, Cheryl, and stroking the purring kitty that had jumped onto his armrest for a little affection. The red pens were all the way up on the third floor.

Up next, in canon-worthy writing, or perhaps more accurately in the kind of rushed writing that will allow me to finish a number of other deadlines, including one for school, is a tour of Phillip Lopate's library...

Cartman figurine, bathtub, miscellany...

2010-10-30T12:22:00.002-04:00

Here are a few final shots from hanging out with Bruce last weekend. After I got the general sense of the place, I noticed the details: Cartman in the corner, Polaroids of girls, shoe storage, laminated tour badges hanging from the doorknob...

Through the window next to the bed, you can just barely see the neck of the guitar in the neighbor's window in the next building. The guys don't know each other.

Above, the Sleepy Rebels posters above the bed were props used the band's music video shot in Romania. Below, he's about to show me a preview--it's pretty cool, and it involves parachutes. Until it's available for viewing, check out this video of the Sleepy Rebels with Romanian pop sensation Loredana. They're singing "Rain, Rain," the dance-happy song they wrote together, and they're all performing--where else--on Romania's version of The Tonight Show.

Bye, Bruce! See you soon, and keep rockin' the Upper East Side.

The kitchen-slash-studio

2010-10-28T13:00:00.001-04:00

We're walking into the kitchen, where musician-songwriter-producer Bruce keeps more recording equipment, guitars, computers, cigarettes, a hanging wood monkey from Brazil (below) and the occasional pipe from the hardware store to make interesting sounds. I forgot to mention that Bruce's formal name is the longest of any I know: Bruce James Pinto da Silva Driscoll. Because that's how they do it in Brazil, per his Michigan driver's license.

Below, view from the kitchen window; of the sink (nesting dolls!); of the wavy-fun-sweet handles on the cabinet under the sink.

Guitars on the cabinets. Computer on the fridge. Magnets from Europe. Taped-up lyrics from...a music video shot in the apartment...I think?

Ten guitars, seven hats, keyboards, and gear--in 400 sq. ft.

2010-10-27T09:35:00.003-04:00

Bruce has been in this apartment for two years, and with the move from another UES place came his ten greatest loves: the guitars. In every corner, on top of kitchen cabinets, on the bed, stacked near the desk, stuffed in two closets, live the guitars. And there's one under the bed.

The place is about 400 square feet, we're guessing, and it goes: entry; bathroom straight ahead; or living area to the right (above and below), with a bed, desk, chair, dressers, etc.; the kitchen is on the other side of the living area. There's gear everywhere.

I said in my previous post that I'd write more about Bruce's music--Remember this JC Penney Father's Day commercial? Bruce composed and produced it with his band mate, Jeremy Adelman. Bruce's sister Erica is singing. Together, they're the Sleepy Rebels, and that song is the first one Bruce taught me on guitar. (Still working on sounding like Erica.) They've/He's also had songs in commercials (Volkswagon, Jaguar), and in movies (Monster in Law, Bangkok Dangerous) and right now in Brazil, Lana Mir is singing in a Vivo SMS commercial a song he co-wrote and produced. "There are so many people in Brazil!" says Bruce with giddy about the song's exposure and wide reception.

OK, back to my Sunday morning, which was much less of a whirlwind.

There are so many buttons on the machines in the above pic, and they all light up. Below, the view of the entry from the living area. Below that, the view into the kitchen, looking the opposite direction.

Above: the kitchen. Guitars on cabinets. Computers on the refrigerator. Below, Bruce singing through a tube he bought at a hardware store. Mad effects.

He's having a Prefab Sprout moment and demanded I take a picture of the record, which we were listening to, in support. Below: very boy.

Sunday morning with Bruce Driscoll

2010-10-25T08:55:00.002-04:00

Such a pleasure it was yesterday visiting my musician-songwriter-producer friend Bruce Driscoll on the Upper East Side. I think I've known Bruce now for almost ten years--we have mutual friends in Michigan, where we're from--and I still see in the 27-year-old the adorable 18-year-old in a very fine suit I met in Los Angeles at a wedding: same contagious smile, same fifth-Beatle vibe. Now, though, he's making music with more than a handful of bands (more on this later), getting songs placed in national ads (more later on this, too), and he just returned from Canada, where he was on tour with Isobel Campbell (formerly of Belle & Sebastian) & Mark Lanegan. When I arrived at his place at 11:30 am, he'd been working since 8, possessed to write something inspired by "Help Me, Rhonda," the song he woke up humming.

This week I'll post pics of Bruce's apartment and all its guitars-and-gear glory, but first, perhaps you'd like to hear some of his music? To start: Sleepy Rebels, Blondire, The King of Nowhere. And this video, filmed on set in Romania for a music video, cracks me up. It's an impromptu duet between him and one of the actors, and it's the Bruciest. More soon...

One last detail: Mark Phillips is maybe moving

2010-09-30T10:27:00.004-04:00

With the big back story to this wall drawing, I somehow forgot to tell you a very important and timely detail: Mark Phillips, who spent about six months recreating Sol LeWitt's Wall Drawing 1211 with colored pencils in his bedroom, may be moving out of his apartment. In need of more space and less noise, Mark has been looking around for a new home -- perhaps one with nice, smooth walls. This much is true: he can't take the beloved replica with him. So what will become of it?

If you listened to the Studio 360 segment that he produced about this project, you know that Sol LeWitt works are accompanied by a certificate. A work isn't authentic unless it's documented. In the podcast, Mark explains what happens in the surprising buying/selling process, as the work can't actually be packed up and shipped to the new owner:

"You pay whoever owns it for the certificate, and then they actually have to paint over their drawing. Only then does the LeWitt estate send over their trained assistants to draw the new version on your wall. Theoretically there's a one-to-one ratio between drawings and certificates."

If you lose the certificate, well...

So, of course, there's no certificate to Mark's work, but he will have to paint over it before he moves (likening his landlord to LeWitt). "And yes," he says, "I do think I'll have another go at this drawing in the new place, especially now that I've mastered the technique and learned a couple secrets from the Sol LeWitt installers. I might try something new, though." Hmmm.

In 1968, when it came time to destroy the first wall drawing at the Paula Cooper Gallery, where the first drawing was exhibited, the task landed in the hands of owner Paula Cooper. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. LeWitt painted over it himself.

...and Mark's music studio

2010-09-28T15:30:00.001-04:00

In between Mark's living area and bedroom is a great little room he uses as a music studio. Foam that he wouldn't really let me photograph is pushed up into the corners near the ceiling to improve acoustics. He doesn't look as bad as he thinks, and hey, it serves an important function. A Wurlitzer and various keys are lined up along the walls....

OK, a small mention of the foam:

Mark's kitchen--amazing found photos

2010-09-28T08:44:00.001-04:00

Mark has a thing for beverages. Above, his Sodastream home-soda maker. It carbonates anything in seconds, so Mark transformed my tap water into a sparkling, cool refreshment. When we worked together, before he left WNYC to freelance, I'd run into him in the kitchen filling his thermos with hot water so he could continuously refill his gourd of yerba mate all afternoon. Guess who's now walking around WNYC with a gourd of mate (with a gigantic this-can't-be-legal smile on her face)?

Above, the rest of the kitchen. A gigantic Bialetti. Have I mentioned we're in Clinton Hill? Below, sweet vintage mushrooms. Aren't they just...familiar?

Across the kitchen on the opposite wall are a series of photos, below. They continue into the living area, of which, for some reason, I don't have pictures, but where there is a well-preserved vintage Eames recliner. Anyway, these photos have a very interesting story. As Mark puts it (see caption below):

"I was working at a professional B&W lab and this fashion photographer found a 6x6 camera at a garage sell with an unwound, undeveloped roll of film. It would be one thing if it was just undeveloped, but being unwound it was extremely unlikely that anything would show up on the film. But he gave it to us to develop just in case. And the images on the film were perfectly exposed and amazing. It seems like it was a roll that was half from a mission (or bootcamp) and half from a leave of absence with his lady. I'm not sure what war it's from (if any) since it seems too new to be WWII and too old to be Vietnam. Perhaps Korea. Anyway, they're so well lit and composed that it's clear this guy knew what he was doing and that's why the fate of these images is so mysterious. Did he lose the camera? Did he get killed? Seems like something must have happened to prevent him from getting the roll developed."

Last but not least: stray gourds awaiting yerba mate. And filtered tap water, pre-fizz.

Instructions for installing a Sol LeWitt...

2010-09-20T12:34:00.001-04:00

If you listened to Mark Phillips' Studio 360 podcast about his attempt to recreate a Sol LeWitt drawing in his bedroom, you'd know already a bit about the authentic artworks, and how the assistants come and prep the wall, and about significant details like the widths of the pencil markings, and you'd know that Sol LeWitt pieces come, like any purebred, with paperwork.

Mark, a freelance radio reporter who was a producer at On the Media for four years, showed me some of the instructions for a LeWitt installation as outlined by the Paula Cooper Gallery in New York City. Paula Cooper represents Sol LeWitt. The gallery opened in 1968 with a show that included the artist's first wall drawing.

As you can see below, the wall must first be painted with a specific primer from Benjamin Moore, a paint manufacturer trusted by top professionals in the art and design worlds (like architect Wayman). Apply the paint with a roller, not a brush, please.

Above, a meditation pillow, and my glass of water. In college, Mark studied Buddhism in Japan. Below, guitars and a keyboard next to the bed. When not gazing out windows, Mark plays keys, does sound design for films, and makes music under the moniker Sono Oto.

Mark Phillips and his "Sol LeWitt"

2010-09-13T13:48:00.002-04:00

Voila, here it is, Mark's replica of Sol LeWitt's Wall Drawing 1211, an installation at Dia Beacon in New York. The shot above was taken by Mark from the head and center of his bed. He elevated the grid a few inches higher than it should be -- there's more space at the bottom than at the top -- so he can gaze at the whole golden thing in its entirety, over the tops of his feet, as he wakes in the morning (as seen below, except the picture was taken at 6 pm). "In the glow of the morning light," he says, "it becomes tones, not individual lines. It's like a sunrise."

Mark explaining. "Some people knit. I drew lines on a wall."

Mark began the project two years ago. It was tedious: holding a ruler against a wall takes quite a bit of stamina. Forty-five minutes in and he was exhausted, though he says he never left a square unfinished. "That would bug me. I wouldn't be able to go to sleep with it facing me."

The entire drawing took about six months to finish. While he was compulsive about finishing individual squares once he began them, he didn't mind the Tetris-like work-in-progress. "It was still beautiful unfinished."

"It's fun having ambient tasks. I've taken up running, since..."

First day of school! Homework for Homebodies

2010-09-08T17:19:00.004-04:00

Happy back-to-school! So...for my next Homebodies visit...it would greatly help if, before I expose you to some wonderment, you do some homework and listen to a quick audio segment about the subject's home project--which, as said subject points out, involves colored pencils, the ultimate back-to-school supply. This isn't the DIY you might expect.

Mark Phillips, a reporter and producer for On the Media, and my colleague at WNYC, took on quite a challenge in his bedroom: replicating a pencil drawing by the artist Sol LeWitt. He asked big questions, and so did Studio 360, the radio show that aired his findings: "Is it real, or is it plagiarism?"

Listen to the ten-minute piece below. Photos to come!