Tonight I went to one of my most treasured places- The Book Barn in Niantic, CT. My whole family is crazy about it, so much so that my Dad even painted it (above.) The Book Barn is an independently owned used book store with several branches through out Niantic. My favorite branch is centered around the owner’s rustic farmhouse. The books are housed in various barns around the property. Dogs come to say hello while you browse; at every corner you’ll meet a new cat in the stacks.
Looking back, that appears to be the same cat. Oh well. Help yourself to some free coffee while you shop the amazing collection. When I was much younger, they had the most delicious apple cider and powdered doughnuts. A gentle black dog named Bandit slept most inconveniently in front of the door so that every one had to step over him. He loved nothing more than a gnarly knotted rope which he was never with out. I think of him often and he is greatly missed.
I’m thrilled about snagging this vintage copy of Bauhaus to Our House which I’ll report back on soon. If you find yourself in this little pocket of eastern Connecticut, don’t miss this book store unlike any other.
I was excited to pick up Christopher Bollen’s new book about life in NYC post 9/11. Imagine my surprise when I discovered the main character is a commercial actor! I think Bollen nailed the lifestyle and I particularly enjoyed this passage:
As a professional actor who earned his money by the amount of repeated airings of his commercials rather than by the hours it took to film them in the first place, Joseph was accustomed to filling up free time. Hell, it was an art form the way he could transform an unaccounted day into a nonstop rush of errands, phone calls, Internet searches, masturbation, and previously uncharted routes through side streets in the East Village to discover novelty bookshops and second-hand stores whose only purpose was to distract the armies of artists and drifters who made up much of the city’s rudderless population. Even before they had agreed to get married, Del took on the tone of a disgruntled wife a few weeks into their cohabitation. “What the fuck do you do all day?” she’d asked him with her arms crossed over her chest in judgment.
“Keep looking south on Hollywood until you come to a rusty grayish green fence, yeah it’s really shady looking. No, there’s no sign. Drive slowly or you’ll miss it….”
I never have to give directions like that again! Barnsdall Park is dedicating their brand new sign today. I’m thrilled the park is finally getting the recognition it deserves! And, in honor of the new sign, I thought I’d take a minute to extol the many virtues of Barnsdall. Read more at LA I’m Yours….
Remember when Nick Olsen from Domino magazine said any one could have her very own Yves Klein-esque painting if she just threw some oil paint on a canvas? I do. While Nick’s repros looked amazing, it will go down as my most embarrassing DIY. Turns out, you sort of have to be Yves Klein to paint an Yves Klein. But I’ve never forgotten his trademark blue:
Last week I was bored of my lamp, this week it was my table. I’d prefer a more rustic, rough-hewn table, but this is what I got. (It was only $99 at Out of the Closet so I shouldn’t be too hard on it.)
From afar it looked alright but close up you could see the damage:
I decided to give the Yves Klein homage another try. I picked up Benjamin Moore Evening Blue and got to work sanding, painting 3 light coats, and a touch of acrylic gloss. How did it turn out…?
For those not local, LA has been experiencing wild winds the last two days. I didn’t sleep at all last night as my house of windows rattled louder than I thought possible. I saw this tree a few blocks down from me and thought it would be the most devastating part of my walk. I was wrong.
This is devastating. The car is gone. The lights are off. Now what will I obsess over? It is truly an American horror story.