Huh?

Check out this fabric. It's a Japanese import, "Rakugaki Sketchbook," designed by Megumi Sakakibara...but look, it's like a page from a sketchbook, seriously, just like, a bunch of partially drawn rabbits and trees and...whoa.

Also, I'm a little dizzy from the Pulitzer announcements this year. Usually I just yawn and roll my eyes. But this time, one of my favorite writers grabbed the award for fiction. Whutt? Elizabeth Strout is a great writer, and I'm proud to say I've shown up at several of her readings to stare googly-eyed at her and tell her what a genius she is in person (fortunately she has not yet met my eye with a weary "are you stalking me?" gaze), always a kind of awkward and yet totally satisfying thing to do. If you haven't read her *award-winning* novel Olive Kitteridge, or Amy and Isabelle, or even the essay she wrote in The Friend Who Got Away, a great collection of essays about the oh-so-interesting subject of women's friendships that have gone awry, then hotfoot it to the bookstore or the library or start clicketty-clacking on your computer to find her stuff online, O.K.? O.K.

Lynn Nottage, an awesome playwright and my fellow MTC fellow, also won, for her play Ruined that's up at MTC right now. Congratu-hallelujah-lations, Lynn! And can I just point out that the finalists for both drama and fiction were all women? This contributes to my dizziness, O.K.? Reading the list was like a weird optical illusion or something. Since when are women so thoroughly represented, unless it's like, Pulitzer Prizes for Women year, or something? I'm just sayin.

Cake head

My sister Brook made a birthday cake for me back in 2001.



See, it really is a cake.



I'd given her a drawing of her wedding party as a present, and she used the caricature I'd drawn of myself in it as her inspiration.



This year, Brook told me she's going to paint a portrait of my cat Beatrix. Yes, Brook, the creator of such astounding canine portraits as this and this, is now stepping into feline territory.



I'm very excited.

A wolf loves pork!

No, this is not about my brother and his love of all things that oink. (Although, come to think of it, Wolf did have a black t-shirt when he was a very young laddie that said "OINK" in big capital letters on the back.) This is an amazing stop motion video that my brother Max sent me this morning. Thanks, Max! Enjoy...that is, if you haven't seen it yet. Apparently it's getting a lot of play on the web. Understandably!



And you don't have to watch this with volume to appreciate it, but the music is pretty funny.

Awww mannn

Henry, Hazy and their momma Brook were in town this past week, and I'll have more to show about their awesome visit soon, but for now...can you tell these guys know how to have fun?



It totally sucks that they live so far away.



The cats might not miss them too much (look at those grouchy feline expressions!) but I do!

My little problem

Whenever I have a jones for my particular vice, it's like this: suddenly I have to see/buy/feel some fabric and only then will I feel better. Before I run wildly out onto the streets and either down to P&S or up to Mood or B&J fabrics, I click over to Reprodepot Fabrics (I am a confessed fabric addict. Sadly there is no Fabrics Anonymous...yet). I could almost say they're responsible for my addiction but then I wouldn't be taking full responsibility blah blah blah yak yak yak. (No I am not ready to face this issue! Just step off! Damn!)

One of the first fabrics that transfixed me was something from this line, which I now have several yards of and no idea what to do with.



Cats and dogs and little penguins promising a special show with a Nice & Beautiful hat! Or look at this one. Wouldn't you like to visit this farm, with ducks, swans, sheep, bears, pigs, and a monkey all there to welcome you?

I'm also a fan of Heather Ross, an illustrator and fabric designer. I love the idea that if you saw this from far away you'd think it was a random pattern, until you got closer and realized they're actually swimming pools with people diving into them...



And no, fabric hasn't completely infantilized me. I don't always need cute little pictures of things. I also start drooling and walk like a zombie toward things like this:



So moderne! But I guess there are pictures of things in that one, too. Whatever. Please do not judge me. Just give me some cash money so I can go buy some more fabric.

The shrug bug

I had to make one last shrug for Hazy while she's still a little shrug lovin' girlie girl, but who knows if she'll wear it or not? The older she gets, the stronger and more specific her fashionista decision-making process becomes. So I made this one out of terry cloth, figuring at the very least, maybe she'll rock it at the lake this summer. Here it is about to boxed up and sent away with Hazy's birthday presents.



And here's a detail of the cute elephant ribbon. Patterns always say to face it out, but I think it's nicer to face it up, so the wearer can see it better.



And here's the kid on her birthday. Yay, it fits! (For now.)

Cat lady art

You might remember this post, wherein an awe-inspiring soapdish was encountered at a cocktail party. Well, P secretly did some research and went out and found the woman who made that crazy soapdish and bought a piece of her nutty crockery for me for a recent special occasion that has been mentioned much too much already. (Yes, P is a prince among men, and I am reminded of that fact daily. I should probably send his parents a bouquet of their favorite exotic lillies or somesuch every week just for putting him on this planet. Hmmm, that's an idea.) Should I put colored pencils in it (see background) or sip yummy coffee and tea from it? For now, I can't do anything but stare at it in wonderment.





That's one absorbing cat lady objet d'art, if you ask me.

Lucky lady

I had the great fortune, first of all, to grow up with the children's book Who Needs Donuts? a book that was miraculously republished. Stop what you're doing right now and buy a copy, it's brilliant and you won't regret it. I've been reading it over and over ever since I learned how to read (a helluva long time ago, my people!) and I still find things to crack up and marvel over in it. It's THAT amazing.

When it was ever so sadly and absurdly out of print back in the 90s, I was feeling guilty for sneaking off with the one copy we had as kids, and decided to track down a copy for my brother for his birthday. This hopeless and ultimately desperate search led me finally to the Village Voice, where the author of Donuts, Mark Alan Stamaty, was still doing his brilliant weekly cartoon Washingtoon. I left a note for him begging for one of his copies, thinking he must have a huge personal stash and perhaps he might feel sorry for me and sell me a copy. One day soon after I was sitting around at home and the phone rang — it was the dude himself, and we had a great conversation, but he told me to fuhgeddaboudit, he only had one box and no, he wouldn't part with any of the remaining copies, and yes, he got calls like this frequently from Donuts fanatics like me, but hey, that's life!

Soon after that, I received a copy of his new book of Washingtoon cartoons and an amazing personalized doodle in the mail (which I framed and have loved ever since). He was an exceptionally nice guy, in other words.

Then, this past summer, I went to a wedding where I met the awesome illustrator Nina Frenkel, whose mentor was none other than MARK ALAN STAMATY. "Do you want to go out to dinner with him? I'll set it up!" she asked me. "Well Hells Bells YES," was my answer.

So this past Monday night I had the incredible experience of being able to break bread with one of my favorite writer/illustrators in the whole world. I know! That's why I felt lucky this week. I knew I was pushing my crazy psycho fan luck by bringing a bunch of books for him to sign, but I couldn't help it. But check it out: Mark (I call him "Mark" now, ha ha), sat back and doodled away after dinner while Nina and I yapped over coffee. And when I mean doodled...will you look at the output from this doodler extraordinaire?

Here's my copy of the republished 2001 Who Needs Donuts? Check out the train on the nose and the fishbowl in his muscle and the bearded sun and...I'm in heaven.



Here's the original Who Needs Donuts? from the 70s. A horse having coffee and a donut!



And here's my brother Wolf's book: he finally has his own copy. (I bought him one for his birthday a few years ago, so that's my inscription you see partially in the bottom corner.)



Here's the front cover of another awesome strip of Mark's called MacDoodle St.



And now here's the inside cover.



That bow-tied rhino makes me so happy. Thank you, Mark! Thank you, Nina!

Street life

Sonya told me about a local art show and this is my favorite piece by this particular artist. This guy apparently dresses up shelter cats and places them in scenarios, but this one is just so...damn! I've walked by this type of scene at some point in my neighborhood, you know?

First grade

Before I finish up my birthday inspired navel-gazing, I just want to explain why I've put this childhood pic up as my blog pic. I'm surprised myself, obviously this isn't a good representation of myself currently! But it's one of my favorite pics simply because I was clearly at the TOP OF MY GAME. I mean, look at that kid. TOP OF HER GAME. It would make more sense if you saw some lower-in-the-valleys class pics from years after that but ha, ha, you'll never see those. It's better if you can just stay here, gazing upon this amazing summit. O.K. I am officially now emerging from navel to rejoin human race. Hurrah! Onto other far more interesting subjects than just thy self.

Party on

A huge thank you to everyone who braved planes, trains, and automobiles to make it up to Inwood to my crazy dance party Saturday night! That was lots of silly fun and my only regret is that I didn't open Trey's present the minute he handed it to me so we could've rocked the animal masks on the dance floor sooner. Dagblastit! Whasamatta wif me? Though I must say Caroline, jumping around in the tiger mask in her striped sweater dress later in the evening, did make up for something, I think.

The tunes were crankin, P's grapefruit bourbon mint punch was yummy and actually was getting stronger with every new batch, and there were a lot of empty bottles of wine when all was said and done, you winos. Damn!

To all the people who couldn't make it due to the many viruses plaguing our fair city: you were sorely missed. Get well soon! To those who got lost on the MTA: that's messed up. To those who chickened out of going so far uptown: lame. But I understand. I will still contemplate maintaining our friendship. And to those in far off lands unable to get on those planes, those trains...I missed you BAD! I'll talk to you SOON! Moreover, I remembered: it's fun throwing parties. I might give you another excuse to come to New York for a fun party again, soon, maybe...especially since Erica keeps reminding me that I don't wear dresses that accentuate my waist and crazy flourescent tights often enough. Speaking of...THANKS AGAIN, ERICA, FOR THE USE OF YOUR STUPENDOUS APARTMENT, NOT TO MENTION YOUR LAST-MINUTE SMOKY EYESHADOW TALENT!

Everyone can draw

It's silly, because sure, not everyone likes to draw, but for whatever reason I never believe it when someone says they can't draw. P is a perfect example of this. He's said many things that all boil down to "I can't draw," and yet when I asked him a few years ago if he had any ideas about what my new email address should be, the best way he explained his suggestion was when he sat down and drew this:



Then there was the time I was working on a drawing for the Pet Beauty Contest and P had a "better" idea. "It should be like this," he said, and started drawing alongside me.



I didn't change my drawing, but I will always appreciate the awesomeness of the above sketch!

I also like the little sketch he did to show me an image he thought of when I mentioned Palm Springs (when I visited last year):



And my sister Brook gasped when she saw this one pinned to my bulletin board. "Oh my god, who is that?" she asked me. "Who do you think?" I said.



"That's you when you're really mad!" Brook said. Well, exactly. Brook looked at Paul with a real artist's admiration — he'd really captured something remarkably accurate!

O.K., obviously P and I spend a lot of time together and I have a lot of drawing stuff lying around. Maybe that's why someone who purports to be not the drawing type would suddenly get all sketchy. But my point is, I think it's usually total baloney when someone says they can't draw. I just don't believe them!

Mambo the Great

I've been meaning to post about this brilliance for quite a while now. Ahhh, what a relief to finally get around to it. Here's another remarkable portrait painted by my sister Brook. When my friend Trey saw this portrait of Bismarck he got the great idea to commission my sister to paint a portrait of his dog Mambo as a surprise gift for his beloved wife Siobhan for Xmas. Cue the orchestra, please...

Wow. Look at this beautiful canine. Mambo is rocking a pashmina in front of the Himalayas, and considering his naturally mellow disposition, and from what I can tell, his central role in the Sager-Walshe family dynasty, this portrait captures his essence more than appropriately. Sigh. Well done, once again, sis. Thanks, Trey, for having such DOPE taste in ART!

For the love of Legos

You might have seen this already in the NY Times today, but in case you didn't, check it out now. Enjoy!

Groundhog it, why don'tcha

And a Happy Groundhog's Day to you all. I have no idea what happened this morning with the whole groundhog ritual. I just wish the groundhog in the picture above could talk. What would he say? I probably don't want to know. It'd be something like, "Sucka! You gots an economy, and I don't! Ha ha!" and then he'd disappear, I'm sure.

Who writes Nash?

Here's a great pic of Neil Nash from a couple weeks ago when we had lunch together. But lay off, Mayor Bloomby: he did not take the tag above his head! Although I love the fact that Neil's kids, as Neil pointed out, would not believe this. Looming above his head ever so slightly is the new Cooper Union building, which is almost finished, and which I'll post about at a later date, I promise.

Ah, Wilderness!

Photographer Bob Arihood has a blog called Neither More Nor Less that I started reading a while ago for his great updates about local protests and various goings on in the East Village. He catches an awful lot of action on his camera (some of it quite louche, I warn ya.). Case in point: check out his post of a red-tailed hawk catching a rat in Tomkins Square Park! And this one, which shows how a pair of mating squirrels narrowly escapes the same fate. My goodness!

Documentary showdown

I saw two documentaries this past weekend. The first was MAN ON WIRE, which I realize has been a big hit with everyone, but sadly I didn't really dig it. I've just had it with Phillip Petit, I think. Yes, it's amazing that he crossed the towers and anywhere else he threw a wire. But lord. What a narcissist! And I say this sadly, because before this, I always had a fondness for him. The Chelsea apartment he lived in when he crossed the Towers was on 22nd Street, where I grew up. I remember him and his crew stretching out the wires on the street on what must have been the day before the event, and I remember seeing the noticeable carrot-topped (i.e., fathead) Petit on the block and walking around the neighborhood.



There was just something about watching Petit tell the story with such blind gusto, as if he'd learned nothing, while his friends told it with such thought and feeling, that struck me as unnerving. And the film itself seemed thin, as there were a bunch of unanswered questions I had about things like how Petit supported himself while he obsessed over his projects and what exactly happened with his friendship fall outs.



On the other hand, DEEP WATER was a revelation! I can't say much about it, because one of the pleasures of watching it is not knowing what happens. But it's only fair to say it's not a gentle ride...so beware.

Here's a non-spoiler-y synopsis from Netflix: In 1969, Donald Crowhurst, a former engineer whose bravado outweighed his sailing expertise, entered a London Times-sponsored yacht race around the world. This thrilling documentary incorporates actual footage of the race to depict the harrowing conditions Crowhurst faced. Refusing to turn back even as his homemade boat took on water, he depended on his ingenuity to survive the dangers of the sea and the threat of insanity.

It was weird how DEEP WATER seemed to be exactly the opposite of what I meant when I was complaining about the paucity of this or that in MAN ON WIRE. DEEP WATER is an immensely satisfying, character-rich, dizzyingly fascinating and gripping tale that's very well told. But I can easily see how DEEP WATER wouldn't be every one's cup of tea...O.K., that's TWO warnings! Watch at your own risk! And if you do watch it, make sure to check out the cool extras on the DVD.

Stripes Friday

Hey, hey, it's stripe-ay Friday. Actually, it's Stripes/Plaid day, but my stripes and plaids weren't getting along, so I had to separate them. Tut tut tut. I really must thank you, Leya: you are so cool to have inspired this go 'round of kinetic pic snapping and color noticing 'round the so-called blogosphere. I've had tons of fun making these silly arrangements on my desk and even more fun clicking around and seeing what others snapped. Hooray for color! Hooray for stripes! May the Lawd bless cotton-striped socks, stockings, and dishtowels! And the cat scrap of fabric is exactly that, an amazing scrap I'm not sure I'll ever do anything with other than marvel over it. Have a great weekend, everyone. Until the next color challenge, I salute you!

Pink Thursday

Part four of color week: PINK. Ye gods. I think it's fairly obvious to those who know me that I ain't no girlie girl. And I certainly did have to poke around in quite a few cigar boxes and old toffee tins to come up with the items pictured above. And I must say, I could easily blame the whole mess of it on the existence of this kid (every pink button, ribbon, zipper, and thread I plan to festoon on none other than her and no one else!) — but then, that wouldn't exactly explain all the tarty lip products and the blusher. Whatever. This is pink day. Enjoy!