Friday, September 27, 2013

Size Matters. Or Does It?

I saw this photo and it made me laugh.


And it reminded me of why I hate being photographed standing next to my petite, tiny, oh-so-slender little sister. 

Opposites attract, size variety is unavoidable, and maybe all of our differences should just be embraced and enjoyed. :)



tom cruise and katie holmes



tallest woman shortest man

sacha baron cohen and isla fisher


Tallest Man 2

rod stewart_penny


seth green



mick jagger and l'wren scott


ellenbayer (2)




8112934eb09d1b53_Elisany da Cruz Silva 1





Brooke Shields


Charles Ray Fall_91_(red_jacket)


baoxishun (4)

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Rick Owens is Hilarious


There is no denying that Rick Owens is an incredibly talented designer, but I had no idea how funny/ADORABLE he was until I read this interview in the October issue of Harper's Bazaar.  He is HILARIOUS!   

Rick Owens describes his typical day/night...

8:00 A.M. I sleep in my own black cotton boxers. When I wake up I make a coffee and check e-mails. Then I hit the shower, with the TV playing any old black-and-white movie on mute and Julie London on the stereo. (The open shower is in the middle of the bedroom.) I take a minute to indulge in shameless preening. I use Bigen Japanese dye for my hair, and Aesop for shampoos and moisturizers because it's the only packaging I like. I would use lard if it came in a pretty bottle. It takes me minutes to dress—I’ve worn the same black outfit for years, like a priest. Or a prisoner. I can’t imagine having to choose something that I might sour on later in the day. My vanity is pretty satisfied by the gym; not thinking about my clothes lets me focus more on clothes for other people. And I like sticking with a decision: I have a stack of identical crisp black shorts, a stack of identical soft black T-shirts, and a stack of identical black cashmere turtlenecks. I change shoes every few months. For travel, I carry my own oversize bags in black leather and black python. For day to day, I just use my pockets. I understand the appeal of wanting to have all your stuff with you, but I kind of like the feeing of total exposure and liberation. I used to wear sunglasses as a barrier, but now I’m more interested in receptivity. And the beautiful brightness of the sun just isn’t enough of a problem to wear something on my face that I’ll just misplace or sit on. But that’s just me. I do sell sunglasses for people who like them. I wear the same silver bracelets every day. I sleep, swim, and shower in them. Hun, my better half [Owens’s wife, Michèle Lamy], bought them in a marketplace in Dubai. I don’t really like accessories unless they’re slightly ridiculous.

9:00 A.M. I live and work in the same building, so I don’t have a commute. If I do have to go somewhere, we have a van and driver, but I usually take the Métro because the van is most often delivering fur to the store or shuttling furniture elements between the ébéniste, the marbrier, and the bronze foundry. (I do a furniture collection that we show in some of the European art fairs like Art Basel and TEFAF Maastricht, and the Dubai design fair. I come up with a few ideas, but Hun does all the magic.) Coming from L.A., I never grew up with subways, just cars, so the Métro holds an urban dystopian glamour for me. But almost everything I need is within walking distance. I don’t usually travel with anyone in the car; I need a lot of space around me, but when I travel with Hun, it’s an army of gym trainers, dog walkers, assistants, and young artists.

9:30 A.M. My first conversation of the day is with my Paris office captain, Sergeant Vandendust, who briefs me on what I have to get done. Then I speak to my CEO, Eleganzerella, who gently hits me with the problem spots of the moment. Next, I speak to Dr. V, my main assistant at the factory in Italy. V is for vinegar, old and bitter—her nickname, not mine. I think she came up with that before I could come up with something worse. At least once a day I mumble to myself, “A hundred years from now no one will care, so get over yourself.”

10:30 A.M. I’ll have some dry granola around mid-morning; I’m not really a breakfast person. I love to read the blogs Scala Regia and AeraNeo. I used to love An Aesthete's Lament, but the writer Mitchell Owens (no relation) moved it to, so I look at it there now. Other than that, I check The New York Times and The Business of Fashion and the weirdest Tumblrs I can find that keep getting shut down. I prefer e-mailing to phone calls—I like how thoughts can be reconsidered, corrected, and improved in an e-mail. Like an old-fashioned love letter. And instructions can be carefully specified and referred to later. Am I robotic? Maybe. I think spontaneity may be overrated.

1:00 P.M. I walk through the Jardin de Tuileries to my gym, next to the Palais Garnier. I work out for an hour with hardcore techno playing full blast in my earbuds. I used to have a trainer in L.A., but now I enjoy the privacy and focus of doing it by myself. I grew up buck-toothed, soft, and pear-shaped—honestly, if I can change, anyone can.

2:30 P.M. After the gym I walk home and maybe stop in the park to answer some e-mails and see what’s blooming or how the ducklings are coming along. Then I get home and have an organic lunch that’s been delivered.

4:00 P.M. Naps are a tool I use to pace myself and not get oversaturated. I like having a minute to absorb and reflect and recharge. I feel that it protects the best part of me and uses my energy to its best advantage. It could be a phase I’m going through, and I’ll be an out-of-control terror next year. My ideal day would involve being in my summer office of a cabana on the Adriatic working and swimming and reading and napping without an immediate deadline. Perfect. I used to play music all the time, but as I get older the birds in the garden outside are just so soothing and pure. But when I start prepping a show I usually have Judy Garland or Dorothy Squires or Aretha Franklin playing, something to get me in the zone. Then when my crew arrives it becomes more energetic, with Katie Got Bandz, E.S.G., and Black Asteroid. I also love sentimental show tunes. I don’t observe weekends or holidays, so I go shopping whenever I get the urge. My favorite places to shop in Paris are antiques stores.  Galerie Franck Laigneau has a carefully edited selection of German and Swedish Art Nouveau furniture and objects.  Galerie J. Kugel has a grand “cabinet of curiosities” vibe—Yves Saint Laurent used to shop there. Fancy.  Galerie Steinitz always has the most sumptuous booth at the Biennale des Antiquaires, the international fair in the Grand Palais. A few years ago they had two monumental 1800s marble canopic vases that made my heart stop, so I reserved them. I’ve been having the house evaluated by a structural engineer to see where they can actually go. My prize possession is a  Georges Hoentschel urn that was part of the pavilion he designed for the Musée des Arts Décoratifs for the 1900 World’s Fair. I like eliminating more than collecting, but this piece just seems like an inevitable relationship. Regarding books, reading Beverley Nichols is my comfort food and therapy. He wrote a series on gardening in the ‘30s that’s about everything and nothing; I would put it on the bookshelf between M.F.K. Fisher and Colette. Oh, and E.F. Benson.

9:30 P.M. Hun and I have dinner at the corner, where I generally have a cheeseburger and chocolate cake. They fawn over her and ignore me—after eight years they still think I’m her dim-witted gigolo. But we have wonderful family dinners at home outside under huge old trees from the garden of the Ministry of Defense, which abuts our terrace. We live in the middle of Paris, but our neighborhood is so quiet, it’s like being in the country.

11:00 P.M. I watch the tail end of something black-and-white on TCM to put myself to sleep. If I commit to a movie, my favorites are by Satyajit Ray, Cecil B. DeMille, and Ken Russell. And Fritz Lang's Die Nibelungen is an all-time favorite. When we moved to Paris I re-created the bedroom we’d had in our bunker of storefronts off Hollywood Boulevard. It’s a monolithic platform slab covered in wool felt; it came from my Joseph Beuys fascination. I asked D. Porthault to produce sheets in my favorite gray, which I then also sell in my stores.

2:00 A.M. Every once in a while we get the urge to go dancing, so I take a disco nap and wake up to get to the club when the music is peaking and everybody is lubed up and seriously dancing. We don’t drink anymore, so having an espresso before going out is a whole new delirious high. Dancing is one of the purest and simplest expressions of joy, and I feel a moral responsibility to enjoy it.

Monday, September 23, 2013

The Winning Speech

The boyfriend's 8-year old son recently ran for class president.  This was his speech.

the winning speech


P.S. I think it is worth mentioning that he recently saw Napoleon Dynamite for the first time.  Mmmmmhmmmm. 

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Beer Belly

Did you hear about this?!

beer belly

This medical case may give a whole new meaning to the phrase "beer gut."

A 61-year-old man — with a history of home-brewing — stumbled into a Texas emergency room complaining of dizziness. Nurses ran a Breathalyzer test. And sure enough, the man's blood alcohol concentration was a whopping 0.37 percent, or almost five times the legal limit for driving in Texas.

There was just one hitch: The man said that he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol that day.

"He would get drunk out of the blue — on a Sunday morning after being at church, or really, just anytime," says Barbara Cordell, the dean of nursing at Panola College in Carthage, Texas. "His wife was so dismayed about it that she even bought a Breathalyzer."

Other medical professionals chalked up the man's problem to "closet drinking." But Cordell and Dr. Justin McCarthy, a gastroenterologist in Lubbock, wanted to figure out what was really going on.

So the team searched the man's belongings for liquor and then isolated him in a hospital room for 24 hours. Throughout the day, he ate carbohydrate-rich foods, and the doctors periodically checked his blood for alcohol. At one point, it rose 0.12 percent.

Eventually, McCarthy and Cordell pinpointed the culprit: an overabundance of brewer's yeast in his gut.

That's right, folks. According to Cordell and McCarthy, the man's intestinal tract was acting like his own internal brewery.

The patient had an infection with Saccharomyces cerevisiae, Cordell says. So when he ate or drank a bunch of starch — a bagel, pasta or even a soda — the yeast fermented the sugars into ethanol, and he would get drunk. Essentially, he was brewing beer in his own gut. Cordell and McCarthy reported the case of "auto-brewery syndrome" a few months ago in the International Journal of Clinical Medicine.

When we first read the case study, we were more than a little skeptical. It sounded crazy, a phenomenon akin to spontaneous combustion. I mean, come on: Could a person's gut really generate that much ethanol?

Brewer's yeast is in a whole host of foods, including breads, wine and, of course, beer (hence, the name). The critters usually don't do any harm. They just flow right through us. Some people even take Saccharomyces as a probiotic supplement.

But it turns out that in rare cases, the yeasty beasts can indeed take up long-term residency in the gut and possibly cause problems, says Dr. Joseph Heitman, a microbiologist at Duke University.

"Researchers have shown unequivocally that Saccharomyces can grow in the intestinal tract," Heitman tells The Salt. "But it's still unclear whether it's associated with any disease" — or whether it could make someone drunk from the gut up.

We dug around the scant literature on auto-brewery syndrome and uncovered a handful of cases similar to the one in Texas. Some reports in Japan date back to the 1970s. In most instances, the infections occurred after a person took antibiotics — which can wipe out the bacteria in the gut, making room for fungi like yeast to flourish — or had another illness that suppresses their immune system.

Still, such case reports remain extremely rare. Heitman says he had never heard of auto-brewery syndrome until we called him up. "It sounds interesting," he says. But he's also cautious.

"The problem with a case report," he notes, "is that it's just one person. It's not a controlled clinical study."


Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Paola Pivi

Paola Pivi, ?, detail, 2013

Paola Pivi 
? (detail)
 Urethane foam, plastic, feathers
45-1/4 x 58-1/4 x 43 inches

Paola Pivi, ?, 2013
Paola Pivi 
 Urethane foam, plastic, feathers
45-1/4 x 58-1/4 x 43 inches

Paola Pivi, Untitled (donkey), 2003

Paola Pivi
Untitled (donkey)

Photographic print, aluminium, frame 

71 x 88 inches 

Paola Pivi, What goes round - art comes round, 2010

Paola Pivi 
What goes round - art comes round
24 fake fur rugs 

Dimensions according to the space

Paola Pivi, Untitled, 2008

Paola Pivi

Muskox, coffee
59 inches x 6.6 feet x 30 3/4 inches 


Paola Pivi, My religion is kindness.  Thank you, see you in the future.

Paola Pivi, All white except one, 2012

Paola Pivi
 All white except one
Digital Print mounted on dibond and diasec
Photography by Attilio Maranzano 
70 3/4 x 70 3/4 inches

 3/ 5 + 2 AP

Paola Pivi, Untitled (ostriches), 2003

Paola Pivi
Untitled (ostriches) 

Photographic print, frame
Photography by Hugo Glendinning 

47,6 x 62 inches

Paola Pivi, I'm a bear, so what, 2012

Paola Pivi
I'm a bear, so what?

Digital Print mounted on dibond and diasec
Photography by Attilio Maranzano 

65 x 49 1/4 inches 
1/ 5 + 2 AP

Paola Pivi, tumblr_l2o3z7u75q1qbt4hl

Paola Pivi, I am proud of who I am, 2012

Paola Pivi
I am proud of who I am

Digital Print mounted on dibond
Photography by Attilio Maranzano 
65 x 49 1/4 inches 

2/ 5 + 2 AP

FNT_Paola Pivi_Interesting_B

Paola Pivi Untilted (zebras) 2003

Paola Pivi, Untitled (zebras), 2003

Paola Pivi
Untitled (zebras) 

Photographic print 

11.1 x 14.0 feet 

Paola Pivi HFG_0048LeopardHGPrint

a performance with a leopard and 3,000 cappuccino cups 

Paloa Pivi, 3089c52659ada0118050541137f1d95

a performance with a leopard and 3,000 cappuccino cups 

Paola Pivi, Untitled (leopard), 2007

Paola Pivi
Untitled (leopard)

a performance with a leopard and 3,000 cappuccino cups 
 Photographic print, aluminium, glass, frame 
47 1/4 x 71 1/4 inches 


Paola Pivi, It's a one way, 2007

Paola Pivi
It's a one way

a performance with a leopard and 3,000 cappuccino cups 
Photographic print, frame
Photography by Hugo Glendinning

57.4 x 75.7 x 2.2 inches 

Paola Pivi 1_zps888cc3cb


Paola Pivi

Paola Pivi (b. 1971 in Milan, Italy) is an Italian multimedia artist who lives and works in Anchorage, Alaska. Pivi engages in a wide range of art techniques, including photography, sculpture and performance. Some of her works contain performance elements, at times involving live animals and people. 
Paola Pivi first gained international awareness at the 50th Venice Biennale in 2003 for her surprising and perplexing photograph of a donkey floating on a small boat. The work revealed Pivi's playful and unexpected approach to creating art.

Pivi studied engineering in Milan and later decided to pursue an education in art at the Academy of Brera. Her interest in science and art, and her sense of humor, lead to unique and sometimes comically absurd creations. Pivi’s large-scale projects exhibit incongruous aspects of our everyday world, allowing the viewer to absorb unexpected and fantastic transformations in experimental playgrounds.

Pivi's works can be seen at Galerie Perrotin in New York.

P.S. I have indicated title, medium, size and edition info above when I could locate it.