No one to RESCUE my closet –

My favorite “secret” boutique closed this summer. Rescue was a strange stylistic choice of a storefront for the sale of cheap mondays clothing, poetic license shoesies and some other local LA fashion favorites. They would have these amazing 60% off sales which clothed my poor student’s ass for the last half of 2007 into the present. Pause while I cry for a while…..They closed down around mid-June. Ian and I suspected the owners were taking a long vacation. But after about 2 months, it became clear that the place was doomed and I would no longer have a venue at which to find 25$ cheap mondays jeans in all the right sizes and no other customers to fight with. After a long and tiresome night of bickering, I walked the approximately 2 miles from Glendale and Fletcher down Silverlake Blvd to my home off Sunset. In between crying and being pissed off and nearly wetting my pants before I stopped to relieve myself in between two cars, I took this sorrowful image of the now empty retail store.

Empty Rescue Storefront

Chelsea Carnival – (Not LA)

I just wanted to give a shout-out to my friend Peggy who participated in what she described as a sort of gross artists’ carnival in New York City’s Chelsea gallery district. She told me she was doing a performance reminiscent of a Texas Parade including a cheerleader style flag dance where the American Flag is a dress, and how she was going to get herself off by igniting the garment. I suggested she should disrobe her partner of the American flag dress and replace it with a Filipino flag. She didn’t listen to me, but apparently her partner Alexia was going to pay homage to Kara Walker and give birth to a baby doll which would then dangle from a string attached to her crotch.

I wish I had some shots of the baby drop or of any of the performance, one of which was staged here in LA’s Chinatown. Unfortunately I was at work in Burbank testing episodes of Hogan’s Heroes on DVD bound for Northern Europe. However, here are the girls as shot for Artforum Diary. I love you Peg! If I get any footage of either performance, I’ll be sure to put it up.

More Silver Platter

I keep getting here too late to see any of the supposed art performances that go on. But I sure do love this place.Maybe one day I”ll actually get a decent front door crowd shot. Unfortunately I’m generally too busy getting wasted on Jack and dancing to get the pictures this place deserves.

Santa Monica Glow – A Huge Success

Actually, I didn’t go to this hyped up piece of crap. I asked one of my acquaintances if any of the artworks were particularly good. No comment on that, only some vibes of “good energy” floating around.

I spent my Saturday wearing myself out walking up and down stairs at the Schindler’s Mackey apartments on Cochran in lower mid-wilshire. I was searching for a friend who had gotten trapped in the double story living room for a heated lecture/debate which I think included my beloved faculty member Sylvia Lavin. While touring these, I ran into a friend from my program who invited us over to his Gregory Ain Dunsmuir flat. I got tipsy off a Stella, went to scope out his next door neighbor’s flat (Charlotte Cotton). She has definitely joined the cult of Modernism, as even her clothes were in perfectly displayed order, every pair of Jimmy Choo’s to every Chloe dress, lined up neatly for all to see.

We finished off the afternoon with a nice penne dish prepared by an Italian M. Arch. II and her boyfriend, enjoyed on the patio. So…that’s why I didn’t go to the Glow.

Why LA Now? This is why…

These photos are from a daytrip to San Diego. We found a pretty sweet spot between Solana and Del Mar. I got a nice burn around the edges where I didn’t apply a thick enough layer of spf 50. This past weekend, we went up to Zuma. The sun was definitely hotter and the breezes definitely warmer down near San Diego. Zuma had cool breezes and the ocean may have been even more freezing, and the traffic was definitely worse.

The Mandrake Last Night

So after my friend Lindsay and I hit up the UCLA pool and flirted with some 15 year olds who are there for soccer camp, we went over to the Mandrake hoping maybe there was some grub in addition to beer. Basically, the west side is so dumb. I got kind of cranky at Lindsay when it occurred to me that we could have been drinking beer and eating grub at Pure Luck if she didn’t live in Culver City. My crankiness went on however with our apparent unpopularity with both the clientele and the bartender. Persian guy, whatever, I ask him if they have any food other than the Goldfish, Olives, Artichoke Hearts, Chorizo and Olive Tapenade hors d’oeuvres written on their little chalkboard next to the cocktail menu. No is the answer, in case you are wondering. So if you’re hungry for beer and food don’t go here. Although our olive tapenade was pretty good, you might want to bring an extra  baguette of your own. We arrived around 8:30, and by the time the place filled up at 11:15, Mr. bartender didn’t have the time of day for us. We couldn’t quite understand how he’d made this decision. One of the reasons for our perplexity was that all the other chicks in the place were retarded or ugly. Perhaps he assumed we were lightweights and wouldn’t go past 2 or 3 beers.  Or, perhaps because we were drinking beer rather than girly cocktails like the ugly trio sitting next to us, he deemed us uncouth. Next time, though we’ll be prepared and order nothing other than French 75s. 

RUMBLE – Addendum

I just wanted to point out something I forgot to mention about the Helsinki Yacht Club studio. The title of this studio, you might find of interest, was Explosions, Spasms, Convulsions. If I haven’t gotten it quite right, you may substitute any other euphemisms for ejaculation or orgasm, and you’ll be pretty close.

Highlights from RUMBLE

This was a project by my friends Alex, Andrew and Craig. It was a proposal for a development and branding strategy for a Sara Lee town in Chicago. I wish I had gotten a photo of Alex on the boardroom table in our Resource Room sitting on top of this monstrous print trying to get it mounted, but this will have to do.

The presentation was complete with a set of memorable cut-outs; you can make your own hot-dog truck, tote bag or tram car.

Although I was a huge fan of Neil Denari’s studio’s final projects, probably the best (read tongue-in-my-cheek) part of RUMBLE was Kivi Sotamaa’s studio. The reason for this is that they designed a Yacht Club. If that information in itself does not have you laughing your ass off, I don’t know what to say. But anyways, here is one of the projects from Helsinki YachtClub studio:

Like, this is just ridiculous.

God, I wish I had gotten to do a rendering of the Scandinavian Ocean complete with sailboats, and my heroic yacht club peaking out from the sea like an iceberg.

And, the model. I forget whose project this was, but if I find out, I’ll let everyone know.

The party after our reviews last Tuesday was pretty awesome. If you’re wondering why, it was a little something like this: BAM!

Unfortunately there was some minor vandalism, and I would like to join UCLA’s AUD Department in asking that any knowing individuals please step forward and report anything they know or remember regarding the incidents at Perloff Hall last Tuesday, June 10.

Rumble. Whatever.

This is what I have been busy with rather than posting half-ass tidbits.

I can’t decide if this is cool or just kind of sad. I guess we’ll know after the press gets a look. haha. If you’d like to know more…Rumble

Ron Athey and the Silver Platter

So, for anyone who’s wondering what the hot indie look for summer is, apparently white t-shirts and arm tattoos. Other than that, I neglected my hell of architecture work last tuesday night to meet my friend Peggy at the Silver Platter to see “an S&M performance.” Why would I want to stare at lines and arcs in autocad when I could see some leather and whips? What she didn’t tell me was that, A. the Silver Platter would be full of gay (and straight?) HOT young hipsters B. the S&M performance would be by the master himself Ron Athey. Many of my mentors in art school advised me to see a Ron Athey performance if I ever had a chance, and it was just by pure luck (brought on by my friend Peggy) that I ended up in a tiny gay club surrounded by foxy kids with the privilege of watching 9 feet of beeds pulled out of Athey’s ass only 5 feet away. Note, the above hotties are our friend Paul and his gorgeous and sweet boyfriend Daniel. Can’t wait to see more of these kids and this place this summer.