Did you know that Ice Cube studied architectural drafting before getting into rap? Yeah, me neither, but apparently he did, and now he’d like to tell you why he loves Los Angeles…and why he loves Charles and Ray Eames.
I like this a lot. I enjoy when my interests fold in on each other in unexpected ways.
Update: I missed this yesterday, but the New York Times also has an interview with Ice Cube about making this video. Best quote: “You don’t want to live in nothing I draw. I got a certificate. For a year. In ’88. I don’t think I picked up a T-square since.” (Thanks, Catherine!)
Speaking of which, have you seen Eames: The Architect and the Painter yet? Evan and I went to see it at the IFC Center a couple of weeks ago, and we really enjoyed it. The movie (narrated by James Franco, yay!) more about their lives, motivations and work processes than it is an exhaustive look at their output, and that’s what makes it so interesting. If you have the chance to see it in the theater, GO. It’s a fun hour and twenty minutes.
If you can’t see the movie in the theater, you can catch it on December 19th at 10:00pm on the PBS series “American Masters,” and after that on PBS on demand.
This is a reposting of a guest blog post I did for Dos Family two years ago. I regularly receive emails asking for the link to download the Swedish Christmas record, so I will repost it here yearly!
In the United States, it’s not uncommon to hear Christmas music wafting from shop speakers as early as the beginning of November, but it’s not “Here Comes Santa Claus” or “Jingle Bell Rock” that puts me in the holiday spirit. For me, it’s not Christmastime until I put on the recording of Swedish Christmas music that I grew up listening to each and every year: Christmas in Sweden, recorded in 1962 by Åke Jelving and a chorus of parents and children.
This is jovial, happy music, sung with energy and enthusiasm…and with audible gasping and stomping!
Our mother may be Swedish, but my siblings and I haven’t got a clue what the lyrics mean. I suspect that they, like me, sing along phonetically (and badly) in the privacy of their own homes. On Christmas day, we put the record on and leave the singing to Mommy as we all hold hands and dance in a circle, usually around the spread of snacks and glögg on the kitchen island.
My gift to you is a download of Christmas in Sweden. Evan made the MP3s directly from the record, so you’ll hear all the same snaps and crackles that I do when I listen to the original. I think that just adds to the appeal! Unless you’re a Swede, this may not sound like Christmas music to you at first, but give it time. (And maybe enjoy it with a little glögg.)
To download the album, you’ll need to visit this link. If you don’t have an account, that’s okay—just wait for the countdown to finish, then click the “regular download” button. Easy!
I’ve been under the weather for the past couple of days and I didn’t really have the mental energy to do real work, so I used the opportunity to freshen up my portfolio site a bit. I have very little patience for or interest in designing stuff for myself, so I’ve been putting this off for ages.
I think I might actually get around to having some real business cards printed up, too. Can you believe I’ve never* had business cards? I’m forever scrawling my name and URL on the backs of receipts and cocktail napkins. Part of me feels like being able to say, “Here, take my card” will be a true certification of grown-up-ness, and that freaks me out a little. Okay, a lot. The only thing left after business cards are nude pantyhose, and I’m definitely not going down that road.
*That’s a lie. Last year I printed a sheet of 12 cards in a fit of panic before an “industry” party I went to. Then, as I was frantically trimming them down, I sliced off a huge hunk of my left thumb with an X-Acto knife. I then proceeded to bleed all over the cards. It was all very Cheese Monkeys.
I’m not sure if this was just a late ’80s/early ’90s thing or if gloomy kids are still spending their free time like I did, but when I was a teenager growing up in a small town in upstate New York, there existed a phenomena known as Teen Goth Nite. On Friday and Saturday nights, nightclubs would shut down alcohol service and open their doors to underage darklings in need of a dance party.
This seems totally weird to me now, but at the time, it was a real thing. It wasn’t just one place, either—there was The Boardwalk in Brewster, Images in…geez, where was Images?, and, if you had enough cash for the train (and sufficient parental permission), there was the best place of all—The Bank in New York City. Out came the fishnets, the black lipstick, the crushed velvet, the hairspray, the 10-hole Docs and the sullen attitude, and we’d hit the road in search of others like us. And then we’d dance. And fret when our makeup ran from sweat.
EDIT:Ward 6!! That was the name of the other club I was trying to think of. Phew. I feel better now…
This mix is dedicated with every ounce of bloody love in my cold, dark heart to Nicole. May we always find a ride.
The second I spotted Diane Keaton’s new line of housewares, K by Keaton, on Victoria’s blog, I knew I had to do a little post of my own about it here. I love Diane. Everyone knows she’s an incredible actor and a genuinely smart, funny person, but this passage from a 1993 issue of People magazine sums the source of much of my affection:
Always buttoned up at the neck, Keaton’s getups bag to the ankles. [T]he whole look seems to swing on a misplaced need to hide her own body. She even wears a leotard and footless tights to swim. “I can’t wear a swimsuit,” she has said. “I can’t wear a dress cut on the bias, it’s over for me. I can’t go to a formal and wear a formal gown.” Instead, she went to the 1993 Oscars dressed as a papal chauffeur in a white tux, overcoat and beret, winning fashion bible W‘s designation as “worst-dressed star” of the evening. Sniped The New York Times, “She looked as if she were about to overheat.”
I mean, they might as well be writing about me. You know, except for the part where she gets to go to the Oscars. So I love Diane—I think she’s a hoot, and even though she’s in both of my two favorite movies of all time (I probably don’t need to say what they are, right?), I love that she also manages to make even the cruddiest of movies (I’m looking at you, Mad Money) watchable. Enjoyable, even.
So how cool is it that Diane Keaton now has this line of housewares that’s completely gorgeous and perfect and black and white and seemingly made just for my house?!