ART CRUSH OF THE MONTH: Eliza Fernbach
Ah, memento mori-- an artist after my own heart. Check out Eliza Fernbach's "Rushing to your death?" project. And take a moment.
Butterflies, Redux.
Pictured: Yours truly + Tayari Jones, nicked from her brilliant blog.
Today I had lunch with the eminently stellar Tayari Jones. Tayari's latest novel, The Untelling, was one of the first books I represented as an independent publicist. The other was Quinn Dalton's Bulletproof Girl, and they both came out on the same day in April 2005 (on that day, I think I was in Amsterdam). Even then I knew I wanted to work with authors whose talent I was so awestruck by that I could keep talking about it for a lifetime. Today though, Tayari and I just chillaxed in style, as always, at a table in front of Cornelia Street Cafe, which I suggested because I like supporting writers' establishments. When we reluctantly parted ways, I, to my delighted astonishment, ran into Anne Landsman (The Rowing Lesson) and Rachel Cline (My Liar) on Bleecker Street. It was that kind of an afternoon-- all the stars were out! And then as I was crossing Spring at Lafayette, who should cruise by me on her bicycle (again) but Dilettantsia's #1 girl crush, supermodel Agyness Deyn. Lovely day.
Butterflies
Pictured: Yours truly + Jami Attenberg (Instant Love, The Kept Man) and Janice Erlbaum (Girlbomb, Have You Found Her) at Sunday Salon at Stain Bar last weekend (credit: Nita Noveno). I ran into Jami again tonight at PRINT's party for its New Visual Artists issue, "a showcase of 20 top designers under 30" at Groupe 16 sur 20 in Nolita. She was with some friends, including Emily Flake of These Things Ain't Gonna Smoke Themselves fame. I met up with my pal Paddy Johnson of Art Fag City and from there she and I decamped to the far less crowded confines of Xicala, one of my favorite bars in the city for myriad reasons. New York is stellar, but flitting off this summer somewhere sunny, breezy and on water -- Monterey? Isn't that where they go? -- sure sounds nice. As does the night skiing scene at Saint Sauveur! How chic. As usual, I Feel It All.
Windowlicker
As I was walking home an hour ago, a man said to me, "Look at those legs-- I wish I had a red carpet to roll out for them. God bless you!" And there you have it: my new philosophy.
[Fornasetti "Bacio" Rug, $8100 at Neiman Marcus]
Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.
Things I Love Re: My Job (& Friends)
...That "work" tonight included dinner at Centolire (where I go so often I don't need the menu-- you can't miss with the artichokes prepared "Roman-Jewish style" to start, after that, depends on the evening) and a nightcap afterward at Bemelman's (where I haven't been in ages, since my last memorable visit). And sending an email on my Blackberry (by request) with the subject line: "I WANT TO GO TO BERLIN" to someone who can make it so. And sleeping in tomorrow!
P.S. Not about work, but it does remind me of another memorable meal... one of the first bloggers I met, when I was in Los Angeles a few years ago, and we had Argentinean food and crepes and it was the best and I couldn't believe someone I met on the internet could be so charming, erudite and cool. Well not only is he all of those things and more, but my friend Mark Sarvas is a published author as of today! Pick up a copy of Harry, Revised (which British hipster publisher Jamie Byng termed "the hottest debut novel on the planet") tout suite.
La Nouvelle Smart Set
...est arrivée.
Windowlicker
This weekend, I nearly bought (but didn't): some Fendi heels (not these, but perhaps if I'd succumbed), a vintage Valentino coat, and a necklace of five intertwined gold chains. I prefer to keep things in the realm of fantasy though, unless temptation defeats me, because as far as my bank account is concerned, black is the new red. I really like these, though, with their (Freudian?) Grecian allure. I imagine myself wearing them with some pooling, shimmering gown, unwinding a spool of divine thread and barely lifting an eyebrow as the Apple of Discord rolls right on by...
[Fendi Runway Metallic Cage Heel, $705 at eLuxury]
Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.
A Beautiful Mind
Tonight in a 15-minute period:
I polished my French vocab -- Suivez-moi jeune homme (Follow me, young man) -- courtesy of an interview with Christian Louboutin at Hint.
A curious stranger sent me a Myspace message asking if I know the specific poem number that corresponds with E Cosi Desio Me Mena (And So Desire Carries Me Along) in Petrarch's Canzoniere. I'm thinking maybe it's #235:
Alas, Love carries me where I do not wish,
and I know my journey is towards her
so that I’m more annoying than before
to her who is the queen of my heart:
no skilful sailor ever guided his boat
through reefs, with thanks for his precious cargo,
as often as I have done my frail craft,
through the battering received from her harsh pride.
And then someone used "sprezzatura" in an email, so I had to go and read about that for awhile.
De Stijl, Continued...
I kind of worked through the weekend but before you shed a tear on my behalf, I did enjoy a brilliant break for champagne-y sake and this magical gold-flecked (osmanthus?) dessert at Yozakura Kushiyaki Bar, which means "cherry blossom that unfolds at night" or similar, with one of my favorite people and the new issue of Self-Service. Anyway, news on the work front continues to be spectacular, and so I am happy to share:
Girls Write Now, which j'adore (I am vice-chair of the board of directors) is featured prominently in today's New York Times!
Janice Erlbaum was stupendous last night at Sunday Salon, as always. Here's some gossip for you: I sold a copy of Have You Found Her to hot poet Major Jackson.
Rudy Wurlitzer was featured in The Wall Street Journal over the weekend. On his decision to go with a small press for his new novel, The Drop Edge of Yonder: "I'm done sublimating myself to others."
As I mentioned on Friday, I tracked down his first novel, Nog, which I am really enjoying. I'm only a few pages in but the fantastic narrator, a sort-of psychedelic Holden Caulfield so far, has totally pulled me in: "I was unprepared for such a downpour, being dressed in white seersucker pants, white paisley shirt and finely-woven linen shoes. I stood near her, waiting, but resolved not to give out with any information." And later, "The evening had already been too much of a lark. It might possibly set me back for months." I can see why it's won such ardent fans!
Look for Rudy's "Book Notes" playlist at Largehearted Boy on Wednesday.
Ludlow 38 gets namechecked in Downtown Express as an example of the new art scene. Plus, if you're looking for something brilliant to do in New York tomorrow night, look no further.
Back of the Book: 1969, et al.
So that first edition of Nog that I had to have arrived in the mail today (it's the hardcover version, with a quote from Richard Poirier of Partisan Review calling it "the most original, exciting and talented new novel since Thomas Pynchon's V," not the paperback, on which Pynchon himself declares that "the novel of bullshit is dead"), and I love Rudy's bio: Rudolph Wurlitzer has published short stories in the Atlantic Monthly and The Paris Review. He lives nowhere in particular. He is thirty-one years old and can be reached in care of his publisher.
It's not that different today, except with more fascinating and nearly unfathomable accomplishments. I wonder where he was living then? I sat in on an interview he did last week with a journalist here in New York, and I am wondering, did this come out before or after he got a job on an oil tanker (oh that's right; he was 17), or when he was in Paris, "chasing after the same girls" as Phillip Glass, or when he "drifted down to Mallorca to be secretary to the poet Robert Graves," of whom all he said was, "He taught me to write in short sentences." And then there was that time that he was on his way to Mexico when Bob Dylan called him up... Or was it Cuba?
Also the more I work with him, the more I am truly amazed that he actually has a publicist. He certainly doesn't do the dog and pony show. And best of all, as I am writing this post, David from Largehearted Boy left a totally related comment. At any rate, take a look at The Drop Edge of Yonder. I've heard it described as an "acid western," and that's a start.
