Swans Song

This is not your mom's no-wave. The seminal New York underground band, Swans, brought their muscular rage back to the stage this fall, playing at the Brooklyn Masonic Temple and the Bowery Ballroom. Michael Gira and company took to their instruments while the viking drummer, Thor, hammered a staccato rhythym for 20 minutes. The assembled musicians looked like a gang of murderers straight out of Blue Velvet, all lean and grey and grizzled, eyeing the crowd with intensity. Michael Gira's inspired fury continues to inspire:



Swans are our favorites. We first dropped our jaw at a Swans show when they performed "Failure" at the Paradise Rock Club in Boston in 1991. The brutality of that statement was pushed further when followed by Jarboe's screeching turn onstage. This time there was no Jarboe, but it was nice of them to resurrect Klaus Kinski to play percussion.

If you have nothing to do for the next fifteen minutes, let this freak baby fly (lovely long intro video below). And then put on a copy of Soundtracks for the Blind. Or put your ear out with a tuning fork. Whichever.

Rufur Premiere@Zebulon

You can tell by her riveting expression in the promo still for Rufur, that something wicked this way comes. Actress Remy Bennett appeared at the premiere of the short film in which she stars, a convincing black eye painted on her face in sparkly purple shadow. Filmmaker Emilie Richard-Froozan addresses the packed bar energetically, like a Fonda in her kickass vintage fur vest. (Below: Bennett and Froozan dancing to Dirty Fences)

Rufur is preceded by a short film whose deadpan humor increases the expectation that something bad is about to happen. The 8 minute short had its genesis in a dream by the director and mirrors the mind's strange way of weaving narratives out of seemingly disparate elements. As if David Lynch and Robert Altman threw a party, luminous women in ballgowns bare their teeth in laughter to a soundtrack of chattering teenagers, overheard dialogue. The girls are present at the opening and giggle wildly in self-recognition, in amazing imitation of the film. There is a young girl's birthday party, a gift of a rat, a violent rape, murder? (does the caged animal escape?) and bursts of punk rock by Dirty Fences. Throughout, the presence of the wide-eyed Bennett, who says little but conveys the varieties of the film's passion, terror and despair with unforgettable expressions. End scene.

Dirty Fences take the stage and as if the dream is yet ongoing, we are abruptly dancing to a catchy riot of punk music. We shimmy and jump in our wicked heels. And the night is still young. Rufur leaves us wanting more.

Das Rheingold at the Met

Much has been written, and much said about Wagner's Ring Cycle, lauded by many as mankind's greatest single work of art. Whoa. We had the chance to see for ourselves on the night of the second performance of Das Rheingold at the Metropolitan Opera.

We ascended the grand stair like oscar winners, to take our seats just moments before the chandeliers rose and the Rheinmaidens floated up before us, backlit by an ocean of blue to the opening strains. The Ring Cycle is famed for presenting a peculiar challenge. Though its themes are central to our existence, our humanity, the images are epic and fantastical. How to bring such grandness to the theater space? Director Robert Lepage created a set comprised of 24 aluminum planks covered in fiberglass. These run on a hydraulic system to reconfigure into myriad shapes for each scene- forming caves, mountains and finally, Valhalla itself. The mesmerizing contraption, comparable to a modern art sculpture or installation piece, acted as a surface for projections which were not pre-recorded, but triggered live by the music and the singing. The final, sublime image we are left with is the Gods' ascent into Valhalla, as the stone surface transforms into the heavens.

We are out of our depth to describe the god-sized music of Wagner's masterpiece, here so beautifully and intimately conducted by Met Director, James Levine. Or the stunning performances of the all star cast, who brought out the gravity of this cautionary tale, and also its power and beauty.

The next installment, Die Walküre, premieres April 22, 2010.

New Photography 2010 Opening at MOMA

Life affords few greater pleasures than being free to wander the galleries of a museum, a glass of wine in hand, conversation bursting in the air all around like tiny bubbles. Well, it is too good to be true, you can't actually drink in the galleries. So we began our evening at the New Photography exhibition at the bar, like civilized people. It was a lively scene for people watching while scarfing white wine and plantains. On to the show!

The New Photography exhibit featured the work of four artists—Roe Ethridge, Elad Lassry, Alex Prager, and Amanda Ross-Ho. Alex Prager's work was the real highlight. Her photos share some sensual qualities with Cindy Sherman- thick, shiny synthetic bouffants, a smart cinematic vintage aspect, and an undeniable modern appeal. Her short film, "Despair", of a woman with impossibly red lips, dashing through a window was a retro, pulp confection. Her inviting, filmic tableaux had the effect of elevating the viewer. The artist herself flitted through the crowd, a blonde stunner with a big 'do and a little black dress. (Below: Prager on the left, on the wall: Prager's Susie and Friends)

Coming out of the exhibit you find yourself in the next room in which "Pictures by Women: A History of Modern Photography" is on view. The flow from Prager's work to Nan Goldin, Dorothea Lang, Diane Arbus, and Cindy Sherman et al. is appropriate and illuminating. The transition implies Alex Prager as the next generation to follow these great photographers. How splendid to spend moments in the world generated by their perspectives, and for Ms. Prager, what a swell party it is.

Uranian Phalanstery

It is not often you see art for which age has done so much. Entering the Uranian Phalanstery and First New York Gnostic Lyceum Temple, an art collective on East 4th and Avenue D, we see not just the work of its creators, but the effects of time. The art on display includes found treasure (mummified cat anyone?), sculptural assemblages, paintings and all manner of strange objects. These bear the signs of the half century that artists Richard Oviet Tyler and Dorothea Tyler inhabited the house. Folded and frayed, figures made creepily mute by the wearing off of their faces. Everywhere the eye rests are ornate carvings and figures in the spirit of the "temple".


These works are housed within walls that have never been repainted, the floors layered in musty and faded oriental carpeting. There is an tantalizing hint of madness here in the cracked gazes and yellowed paper, flaking ceilings and gorgeous parlor furniture. But proprietress Dorothea is lucid as a dream talking of the wonders of collecting and making art independent of the desire for fame and the white walls of the gallery. She is sweetly grand, dangling a sparkling champagne flute in the dim light of the Temple where she is holding court at her going away party for artists, curious visitors and neighborhood misfits, as she has done since 1957. The value of the property, a tax lien she cannot afford, means Dorothea has to move on and take her work way uptown, tragically leaving much of its ambience, a lifetime's worth, behind in in the walls and creaky stairwell.

Hilary Harkness at New York Academy of Art

Hilary Harkness is an accomplished figure painter on many levels. She shows at Mary Boone and gets good press for her beautiful and complex narratives of women cavorting in intricate, precisely drawn architectural constructions. Perhaps her best known of these depicts sailorettes in detailed vignettes in the hold of monstrous warships from the second world war. She is also notorious for a painting she made while getting her masters at Yale, depicting a certain Professor in flagrante delicto with a bull (at Yale, this story is passed down like the hunt for Skull-n-Bones). Harkness was last night's lecturer in the New York Academy of Art visiting artist program.

She discussed the world of detail in her work, the bull and whether or not one can be a feminist and still paint hot ladies. (Answer: yes, of course.) Details on upcoming lecturers at NYAA here.

Backstage With Prabal Gurung

Prabal Gurung's collection for Spring of 2011 is exciting and otherworldly yet sophisticated and down to earth. One spectator described the show as having "a sci-fi landscape with hues of sand and the sea".


The gradual building of energy and excitement in the hours leading up to the show was something we all felt backstage.


The process of getting ready for the catwalk is precise with a focused frenzy. Once the models start donning garments, the atmosphere takes on new life, in stunning hues.







A material which looks like scales of a fantastic mythological character glistens with a subtle iridescence, a sheer black strap of a gown is delicately sewn onto a body, and...


the girls line up in a color pallet ranging from neutral cremes to those you may see on a tropical fish daring and elegant.





Check out the show! -- http://www.prabalgurung.com/home.php

Irony and Ecstasy: John Waters talks about Role Models, dinner seating, and his career of celebrating tastelessness

"It is impossible to live without irony in New York City. You can't have a real biker bar. You can't have a real redneck bar. It would just be people dressed like rednecks. Real rednecks are too stupid to come to New York!" -- John Waters


During the book signing (sponsored by Greenpoint's WORD to kickoff the Brooklyn Book Festival), a pretty young thing offered up his clavicle to be signed, ostensibly for a tattoo, dashing his modeling career.

With giddy hearts did we step into the back room at Coco66 in Greenpoint, and note the intimate setting: a kitchen table with 2 chairs and glasses on a small stage. He would be seated at one of those, the king of the lunatic fringe. Our hero, John Waters, the filthiest mind alive!

He takes his seat before the adoring assembly, ever the dandy in his slim dark suit and creepy 'stache. He more than once referred to himself as being taken for a child molester. Well, he loves going to see the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie at Christmas. By himself.

He tells us he was seated by a young Martha Stewart at a dinner and they didn't know each other. They could only eye each other quizzically as the photographers went wild to snap them together, the trash master and she-of-complicated-napkin-folding. Waters touched in his heartfelt way upon the subjects of his book, Role Models, from Zoro the irate lesbian stripper ("what the F@#$ are you people lookin' at?!"), the parade of deeply weird people who inspired him in his Baltimore youth, to Leslie Van Houten, about whom he is no less candid than eloquent. The talk is breezy, filled with classics of observation, the wit flows like Malbec and we each feel as though we spent some time hanging out in our living room with our best friend. Who is INSANE.

Photographer Sheila Metzner: On The Marble Walls of the Conde Nast Lobby (through October 15th)

Sheila Metzner is known for her use of Fresson color printing. Fresson "tirage au charbon" is a rare method developed in France in 1900. Using layered oil pigments in gelatin, the process requires multiple separate negatives. The prints are developed in a solution of water and sawdust. The result is a luminous, soft glow which gives the photograph the appearance of a painting.

When I asked Grace Coddington, (Creative Editor of American Vogue, pictured above) if I could photograph her in front of her favorite Metzner photograph she gently responded "Well, this one I worked on." as she leads me over to Uma Patau Dress (1986), a feature of the evening.

This is Beatrix Ost. She is an author and an artist with a phenomenal and sophisticated personal style. Her latest book is a memoir entitled "My Father's House". It is her account of growing up in post-war Germany. When I asked Beatrix if she has a getaway where she likes to write, she perplexedly responded,

"No, I don't need a getaway, I am my own getaway"

Ost is also a good friend of Metzners. Below you will see her posing with a photograph of her gloved hand. She comments that the photo was taken in the 80's and exclaims "The 1980's, so much fun!"

Infused With Jalepenos at Hotel Delmano

I was told by the bartender to not take any photographs. When I inquired as to his reason, he replied, "This is a dark place". Indeed! But there is just enough candlelight to illuminate its oak corners and a wall festooned with antiquated portraits. Walking into Hotel Delmano (82 Berry street, Williamsburg) is a fine step away from the modern world.

The "Telenovela" cocktail is made from fresh lime, agave nectar, jalapeno infused tequila, with a cava float. Like a Latin American soap opera, it is bright and spicy, but not overpowering. A birthday party at the Hotel Delmano calls for formal attire. One lovely reveler appreciates the Latin flavors with an elegant twist.

The Dirty Fences play Lit Lounge & meet the silver screen

When did punk rock begin? Some say the 70's . . .


I'd say the beginning of time... or on second thought f*&% that question.  The Dirty Fences play punk rock off all ages and they don't need spikes or studs to fly their flag, they know what they're doing.  With Dee Dee Ramone's 1,2,3,4 and a contemporary underground east coast sound, The Dirty Fences have you dancing, stomping, and feeling like you snuck out your bedroom window to come see them play.

http://www.myspace.com/thedirtyfences

The East Village's Lit Lounge has a gallery in the back and a music venue downstairs.  Lit has preserved the rough and inviting feeling the neighborhood was always known for.


Filmmakers Remy Bennett and Emilie Richard-Froozon double-exposed at Lit. Their most recent project, Rufur, is ready to go. Emilie based the short on a dream she had. Remy, who stars in the film, was also featured in the actual dream. She's a busy lady. Stay tuned for the trailer of Rufur as well as the premier happening at the end of the month!

Dancing to a Dirty Fences song which will be featured in Rufur.  I won't give the title away, but I will say the film and the song together are like a car that has "just married" written all over it.

Lara meets a lot of people and a lot of bands, stamping hands at Lit. One of the favorite bands she discovered there are called Forgetters.  Lara's tattoo on her chest says (in an Italian accent) "Forgive never forget".

What to look forward to in September...

The 10th

John Waters talks about the inspiration for his new book Role Models at COCO66 in Greenpoint. Buying the book from local bookstore WORD is your ticket in!

The 11th

Behind the scenes at fashion designer Prabal Gurung's Spring runway show.

Gurung heralds from the Lower East Side and has designed for the likes of our first lady!

The 19th

With a name inspired by both the Olson twins and the twins from The Shining, The Shining Twins play Glasslands (community art and music space) in Williamsburg. Riot grrrl music perfect to run away to.

Black Velvet ( in tribute to James Brown!) at Tip Top Bar and Grill

"My first cape was sewn together from three sequined evening gowns from the Salvation Army"- Black Velvet

Black Velvet is a showstopper that goes beyond mere imitation. He tears it all out from a deep place, his performance fierce and impassioned, the crowd a frenzy of shaking hips and stamping feet. This is why they call it soul, you just got to feel it.

Tip Top Bar and Grill in Bed Stuy, a neighborhood joint where the vibe is friendly and the $15 all you can eat soul buffet plentiful- chicken and ribs, corn bread, macaroni and cheese, a mana of comfort food. The low ceilings are dotted with christmas lights and the bar is lined with beer bottles stoppered with white napkins.

Bad-ass bartender, Lala, her name like a pair of notes, tells us it is Tip Top tradition to top your bottle this way to keep out the metal taste of the cap. Junior the door man tells us that when he opened up the bar with a trio of his siblings in the 60's, the place was called "Brothers".