And Then Along Came Sandy…

You would have to have been deeply removed from your very own head, news media or nature itself (if you live in the tri-state area) to not know of the wrath of Hurricane Sandy. It’s been almost one month since the storm pummeled our shores, demolished our electrical power lines, felled buildings and flooded our homes. There were people who lost their lives and people who lost all of their belongings. Existence in this region had to be analyzed, reconsidered, reconfigured and will never be the same.

A view of lower Manhattan after the Con-Edison transformer explosion.

I knew I was prepared for the storm (I finally had a use for all the damn candles that always manage to find themselves wherever I am). Or so I thought. Nothing could prepare me for the bright aqua lightning, the aberrant buzzing sound of the circling wind, and seeing an uprooted large tree fly by my window. I was aware there could be power outages. I just didn’t think they would last for over a week. I had to figure out an all-purpose wardrobe: something that was warm, comfortable and could be waterproof if need be and tolerated if it needed to be worn for many days. I hadn’t thought about clothing in this way since I was a young Girl Scout preparing for a camping trip. I did have to entertain myself for longer than I thought I’d have to. I drew, I wrote and I read; my Kindle became my best friend. Gone were public transportation, electricity, warm showers and sarcasm, like so many of the things I took for granted. I came out on the other side of Sandy inconvenienced and a bit dazed but unscathed. I consider myself very lucky.

Cement slabs that once supported a boardwalk in Spring Lake,NJ.Photo by Erika Belle.  

The first Sandy related benefit I attended was at Mister H club in the Mondrian Hotel in Soho. It was organized by the fashion website StyleLikeU and called for donations of much needed household cleaning supplies. I’ve worn black rubber gloves to nightclubs in my day and as a former bar/club owner, I’ve carried many a full trash bag out, but it was a first for me to bring trash bags and packaged gloves into an event (along with giant bottles of bleach, soap and sponges).

The reconstruction and cleanup has started in earnest, but there is still much work to be done. There are more many benefits to attend for those in need and for those who have lost their homes. Please continue to support this recovery in any way that you can (money, volunteer work, food and clothing donations) I found these sites very helpful for direction of where and what to donate:

The American Red Cross, NY (aid can also be given to NJ & Connecticut chapters)

The New York Times Neediest Cases 

City Harvest

God’s Love We Deliver

New York City Service 

New Jersey Food Bank

A remnant of the Jersey Shore. Photo by Erika Belle. 

Degen: Deux

I recently walked around much of lower Manhattan with my seminal good friend Kimberly Logan-Hynes. Kimberly is the Costume Shop Manager of the Florida Grand Opera. She and her lovely daughter Lucy were in Manhattan for a vacation, but both also had an agenda to complete. Both women wanted to visit yarn stores, as they love to knit. I always wanted to learn how to knit, but being a lefty and only finding right handed instructors has kept knitting something I can only admire from afar. For me, fall and winter are merely an excuse to wear sweaters.

Kimberly needed to find a specific shade of blue yarn to complete a project, and I was rather confident that this would be easy to accomplish here in New York, with so many specialty shops that cater to artisans of all types. We started our mission at Habu Textiles, which is a shop where one can find many varieties of yarn from Japan, and ended at Purl Soho, which once inside I saw yarn of every width and color (almost). There were other stops in between, but despite our nearly Arthurian ‘yarn quest,’ the desired shade of blue was a no-show. Kimberly vowed to continue her search elsewhere. Who knew what a labor of love knitting could be?

Who indeed. As a matter of fact, my friend Lindsey Degen knows well the passion for knitting. Her Degen line is mainly knitwear – though knitwear as you’ve never seen it before. Her Degen S/S 2013 collection was inspired by the individuality of ‘street style’ and her desire to move away from the trappings of technical design into a more liberating ‘do it yourself’ or ‘make it yourself’ ethos.

Lindsey assembled a group of like-minded designers and artists to help her execute this season’s endeavor. Cobbler Chris Coulthrust, in conjunction with Converse sneakers, created the fantastic footwear. The crochet hats were produced by the milliner Amy Cakes, and Claudia Baethgen designed the denim wear. The melded and multifarious jewelry design was by the artist Meredith Iszlai and Lindsey Degen.

Lindsey believes that the revolution will be craftivised and she implores us to take action, own our decisions and ‘make it’! And hopefully we will be able to do this by finding and making it in the colors that we need.

Two cool looks by Lindsey Degen. The set installations: Sam Jaffee and Lindsey Degen.

Cropped 3/4 sleeve sweater worn with a necklace made in collaboration w/Meredith Iszlai.

Multi-colored short tank worn with a hat by milliner Amy Cakes. 

'Pizza' bra worn with a beautiful crotched cowl. 

These fantastically great Converse were designed in collaboration with cobbler Chris Coulthrust.

The ring is by artist & jewelry designer Meredith Iszlai. Nails by Myrdith Leon-McCormack for M2M.

On him: 'It's Like That' shorts. On her: A denim mini by Claudia Baethgen.

The talented and lovely Lindsey Degen. 

Attached to A Détacher!

I asked my friend Monika Kowalska her inspiration for the Spring/Summer 2013 season. Mona (her nickname) replied, “Cotton, I really love cotton.” On view this season was a collection of her wonderful cotton wovens and knitwear. Mona is the designer of clothing and accessories for her label A Détacher, which means “to be detached” in French.  

Mona designed for a number of small clothing companies in Italy before moving to Paris to take the helm of the design team at Sonia Rykiel. After that, she moved to New York and created A Détacher in 1998. Her store in Nolita is a stalwart go-to location filled with beautiful items that are dependably unique and wearable. Every season I’m excited to see the fruition of Mona’s creativity. Her singular aesthetic is a magical balance of fashion that is refreshingly new and instantly timeless. And as always, the collection was expertly styled by Haidee Findlay-Levin, assisted by Caitlyn Leary and Gemma Harben. 

Model Nina Collet before the runway in A Détacher S/S '13. 

A fantastic cotton jumpsuit. 

Ulla Reiss in a romper with a twist. 

A detail from my favorite jumpsuit. The alpine print was designed by Monika Kowalski & Caitlyn Leary.

Two looks plus the great hair styling created by Hirofumi Kera for Shiseido.

Pre-show sandals on parade! 

Valery in lovely brown top with an eyelet dot pattern.

Masha in an ecru sweater. The makeup was designed by Miyako Okamoto for Shiseido.

All photos by Erika Belle.

Farewell, Anna Piaggi

And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.

-Friedrich Nietzche

I was always the type of kid that drew outside the lines in the coloring book. There was more freedom in the space outside the constraint of borders and edges. I tend to be attracted to people who not only march to the beat of a different drummer, but who do so unabashedly and unapologetically. This could absolutely be said of the fashion icon, writer and muse Anna Piaggi. I was fortunate to see Ms. Piaggi casually walking down a street in Milan during a Fashion Week years ago. This was such a memorable thrill for me.

I know I’m not alone in my sadness on hearing that Piaggi had died last week at the age of 81. At Vogue Italia, she was an editor of hundreds of editorial spreads, contributed to many other fashion journals and was a muse to fashion legends Karl Lagerfeld and milliner Stephen Jones. Actively selecting not only beautiful and historically significant clothing and accessories for five decades, she honed her distinctive style into a consistent cultivation that remained fearless and incomparable.  

We may not all wish to make music, dance or create art, but we all must put on clothes. It can sometimes be done with great discernment. For Anna Piaggi, it was a passion that was akin to art. She stated that all of the items in her vast wardrobe were purchased with serious consideration and never out of impulse. She also was a proponent of dressing stylishly with economy, reinforcing the fact that style is something individual and singular, on which a price tag cannot be hung. Her expressive looks may have spoken volumes to some. For me, they felt quietly reassuring even as they clearly stated, “Be unique”. For Anna Piaggi, everyday dress was a physical manifestation of well-curated personal chic, elevated to the sublime. 

Anna Piaggi at the Givenchy show in Paris, 2008. Photo by Eric Ryan.

Anna in Milan at the Missoni Menswear show in 2012. Photo by Jacopo Raule.  

Special thanks to @Kim Wiegel. 

A Short Hairstory

I was never one to fuss with my hair. I decided to wear it very short many years ago. Not because I felt politicized or wanted to make some sort of Afro-centric statement. I believe the short-cropped style I sport looks good with my head size and facial features, and hair care can take up quite a bit a time and money. I made a conscious choice to use my time daily for other exploits: clothing, art, food, daydreaming, books, skincare, music, and tending to my other various obsessions. I guess you have to choose your battles.

It is not a fluke that the first African-American millionaire in the US was Sarah Breedlove, who was known as Madame C.J. Walker. She earned her great profits by developing hair care products for women with high melanin content. I guess she figured out that women would pay anything to make their hair do something it was not meant to do. Like become straight. I knew after the hot comb experiences of my youth that I would try to avoid replicating any part of this activity as an adult. I also made a promise to myself avoid the advanced chemistry class that is the deployment of ‘relaxer’ on my hair. If I have to be high strung, I’ll be damned if I let my hair relax.

I did try to wear hair extensions. Once. I went on a dinner date, and one of the bolder extensions chose to fall off my head and onto the table, so I was done with that nonsense. I also wore a wig to a fashion event. Once. I thought I was channeling my inner Sophia Loren, but more than one person told me they were confused by my ‘Church Lady’ look.

People make the mistake of thinking that it’s easy to sport a shorter hairstyle. I can tell you it is not. While it may seem easier because I can “do” my hair in approximately 37 seconds, it is no picnic to hear the comments my hair seems to provoke. I cannot control random children from shouting “Mommy, Mommy look, that lady’s bald!” — which I am not, by the way (the little brat). I also have to find someone who can cut my hair every few weeks. It’s not an easy task: my hair grows in unusual patterns, much akin to crop circles.

The best person I found who truly understood how to cut my hair was from Uzbekistan. The first thing he said to me was, “You have nappy hair’. To which I answered: “That is not the kind of thing one says to ensure repeat business from me.” But as he clipped I had to ponder: “There’s nappy hair in Uzbekistan?”

I love my hair and I don’t think I’ll change its style any time soon. As long as my head remains streamlined, so shall my hair remain closely cropped. 

Sporting my short hair. Photo by Joshua Sobel of Buddhatron. 

I took this photo of my friend, model Fatou N'Diaye. She wears her hair short too.

The A-Muse-ing Sue Tilley

My friend Sue Tilley called herself ‘Big Sue’ for as long as I can remember. I first met Sue in NYC in the early 1980s. I always admired her tenacity and frankness. She was one of a pool of cool girls around town who had amazing style and presence, which takes more than just clothing to achieve. It’s one thing to construct an individual and memorable style, but you also have to emote something else as well (more on this topic in a bit). The French may call it je ne sais quoi but I think the Spanish term is more apt for what we children of the night had: cojones.

Sue was the woman who manned the door at the infamous London club Taboo. She also performed with her friend the provocateur and performance artist Leigh Bowery. I recall one of their performances at Area where they dressed in very ornate costumes as the King and Queen from a deck of cards.

A photo of Sue Tilley in Vivienne Westwood.

Sue also worked as a doorwoman for an East Village night club. Being a door person could be quite glamorous, but it also always comes in tandem with danger. Sue was involved in a scuffle at the door of this club and she was shot. She was rather matter of fact about it, calmly telling me it was merely a job hazard. I met her at the ‘go to store for all your nightclub needs,’ Patricia Fields. I was looking for…you know, another tube of pink lipstick. Sue was looking for some foundation to cover the bullet hole scar. 

Sue moved back to London and did something that many parents of artistically inclined children wished we did: she got a sensible job with benefits and daylight work hours, becoming a clerk in a government job center, and thus lending her job title to one of the most famous portraits painted in the last century. Leigh Bowery made the suggestion to the realist painter Lucian Freud that his friend Susan might be a good subject for a painting. A meeting was arranged, and Sue agreed to sit for Lucian.

Lucian Freud knew what he was doing by choosing Sue as a subject, as she has an amazing presence that could not be denied. Lucian Freud only worked with live models, the paintings took many months to execute (nine!) and Sue had to sit for 8-9 hours each session, 2 or 3 days a week. She not only had to be physically present, she had to emote as well. And emote she did. One of the paintings Lucian did of Sue, Benefits Supervisor Sleeping, is considered a masterpiece of modern portraiture and in 2008 it was on the auction block garnered the highest price ever for a portrait painted by a living artist. And what she gave to Lucian Freud remains as enigmatic as The Mona Lisa’s smile.

Sue looking lovely in a gorgeous feathered hat.

Kate Middleton and Sue Tilley at a Lucian Freud exhibition at The National Portrait Gallery.

Note: Sue Tilley also is the author of a biography of her friend, the performer Leigh Bowery titled Leigh Bowery, The Life and Times of an Icon.

Siouxsie Sioux: Kiss them or Me

Dedicated to Edwige Belmore and Suzie Carr @ girl_novelist

Siouxsie Sioux kissed me on the lips. And yes, when she did this I wasn’t even wearing black. I was wearing a bilious shade of yellow, truth be told. I’m lucky she didn’t slap me. When your idol gives you an unsolicited smack on your kisser it can rock your world or mess with your mind. I believe Siouxsie was just being nice.

I’m such a Siouxsie and The Banshees fan. But like all music fans, I have some very strong emotions attached to what I like. I fell in love with the music of  The Banshees in the late 1970s. As soon as I heard the first single Hong Kong Garden it was love at the first stroke of the vibraphone. I loved the urgency and the musicality of the songs she and her band produced. I idolized Siouxsie; she was one of a small handful of women in what became known as the punk scene. She embodied what it meant to be a strong talented woman with unique and singular voice. And she was the progenitor of several modes of fashion; proto-punk and what is known as Goth would not exist without our Susan J. Ballion.

Siouxsie leading her Banchees.

She and Banshees drummer Budgie had formed an ancillary band called The Creatures in 1981. They were touring to support their CD Anima Animus, and playing at a club called Spa on Bleecker Street, now defunct. This was on the cusp of a time when nightclubs were leaving their days of being dark and spooky (if you need a visual for this, think of the club in the beginning of the movie The Hunger), but still the time when you went out in Manhattan to have fun. What passes for “fun” these days seems to be about paying to be in the same room with famous or wealthy people and watching them have fun.

One of the countless glamorous images of Siouxsie Sioux.

Now back to that kiss: I was leaving an after-party for The Creatures when Siouxsie walked up to me and asked me my name. When I told her, she smiled, grabbed my face and gave me a kiss on my lips. It was not a salacious kiss, people. It was just a gentle kiss. No, maybe it was just a kiss for her. For me, it was something else. It was a big deal for me. I have an exercise for you: close your eyes. Go to a quiet place in your mind (if you are lucky enough to have one). Imagine someone you have held in high regard for a few decades. Now imagine them giving you a kiss. Open your eyes. How was that for you? My kiss from Siouxsie felt like some sort of blessing. Amen. 

Promotional photo of Siouxie for her most recent solo CD MantaRay.

Siouxsie and The Banchees in 1976. 

Also:Check out this composite of Scottish fashion designer Pam Hogg's work, which includes a collection inspired by and featuring Siouxsie as a model (uploaded by voodoo100 via YouTube). 

 

The Mo', the Merrier!

I can’t act. I’ve tried. Friends have asked me to appear in productions and it’s never been a good idea. Oh, I can throw a star fit and I can be all the degrees of me. I just don’t understand the craft.

My very good friend Mo Fischer understands the craft. Mo is very learned in the skill of acting and has been acting on stage and screen for many years. I got to know Mo when she lived in New York while she was lighting up numerous stages performing as Mo B. Dick, World Class Entertainer,a rakish yet affable dude. Well-known as a Drag King performer, Mo was featured as ‘T-Bone’ in the John Waters’ movie Pecker. Always wishing to express fluidity with gender, Mo performs as a woman as well (of course). She appeared as Irma in the movie Hair Burners and she appeared in Girl Gang 2000, directed by Katrina Del Mar.

In a new venture, Mo is reprising her role as Mo B. Dick. She is currently creating ‘webisodes’ in which she portrays numerous characters, such as Joelle, a diner waitress prone to giving sage advice, along with Florence, Mo B. Dick’s ex-girlfriend, and Pedro, who is devoted to Joelle. These ‘webisodes’ do not have a title quite yet (I suggested As the Mo Turns, but to find out more about these episodes and view them, please sign up for Mo B. Dick’s fan page on Facebook.  

Mo has moved to the Los Angeles area to be closer to the movie industry. I love it when I get to see Mo during her East Coast visits. She is also passionate about fashion in a very unassuming manner. It is an extension of who she is. I always learn fantastic and stylish fashionable things to do from Mo. Here is my cherished friend Mo Fischer, lending her expressiveness to Subject Eye.

The footloose and fantastic Mo Fischer!

What were you thinking?

I had a plan that centered around the hat. I wanted to be festive, comfortable and warm.

List of items you are wearing in your photo:

Hat: my hat is a one of a kind. It is a red 45 rpm by Graham Parsons and the Rumors of  ‘Soul Shoes b/w White Honey (live)’ produced by Nick Lowe. It has some royal blue netting and some black, red, and tiger tail feathers.

Dress: a Goodwill find. It was a long dress, but I cut it for a Dolly Parton performance I was doing. I just cut it short to get more wear from it.

Shoes: blue glitter mules from Betsey Johnson that a friend gave to me. She found them at a thrift store for 5 dollars.

Leg warmers: these are my ‘skull’ leg warmers. I’m wearing them for comfort.

Favorite music played while getting dressed:

I listen to Howie Pyro’s pod cast radio show Intoxica on LuxuriaMusic.com. He plays obscure Rockabilly.  

Your inspirations: icons, fictional characters, shapes, eras?

Vintage images and clothing. I reconfigure it into something more than what it is. I love 1950s and 60s fashion, but I never replicate it perfectly.I mix it up and make it me.

 Mo's 45 rpm record hat,with netting & feathers.

Shopping tactics:

Thrift stores and resale shops. I’ll envision something that I need, like a good black sweater. Then I’ll find one that is encrusted with Swarovski crystals.

Avoidance tactics:

I never shop retail.

Do you Rock, shock or think about matching socks?

I rock. But I’ve been known to shock. I have a strapless and ‘ass-less’ black dress that I wore once to a party. People were gagging! (laughs)

How do you keep or lose your figure?

I’ve got good genes. And I don’t eat bad foods. If I can’t pronounce it, I don’t eat it.

Do you think you're sexy?

Yes. I’m Year of the Snake in Chinese Horoscope. (Note: people born under the Year of the Snake are sensual, love new ideas and are innovative in thought and action. They are also concerned with their appearance and are enigmatic.)

What do you collect? 

I don’t really collect anything. No, I collect vintage dinnerware.

Are you designer label happy?

No, I’m not a label person. I cut them out.

If you could be reincarnated as a piece of clothing, what would you be?

Something designed Bob Mackie worn by Cher or Mitzi Gaynor.

Is your skin in? (what is your skin care regimen, if any?)

I use Clarins Skincare.

 

        

A night to remember or forget regarding your clothing:

A night to remember: I was singing at the club Squeezebox in NYC. I was wearing a leopard suit that someone made for me, Fluevog creepers and a burgundy shirt. I had my gold tooth in and a high blond pompadour. And in the audience I saw John Waters! One recent Halloween I went to a party with a literal Picasso face. My features were askew and painted on; my nose was to the left and my mouth was to the right. I had lashes only on the bottoms of my eyes and I wore a black ‘Bob’ style wig with asymmetrical side lengths. I wore a short black dress with a trompe l’oeil necklace on it. I also wore sexy Agent Provocateur black bra and panty set and orange fishnet stockings.

Any advice for future generations?

Don’t follow fashion. Don’t wear labels. Use duct tape and safety pins.

        

Past, current or future projects?        

My past big project was 'The International Drag King Tour' that toured throughout the U.S. and Canada. Presently, I work as a performance artist in LA and NY. I’m always creating different projects. And in the future, I would love to do a one-person show. I’m so fluid with gender. I could become whatever character, either male or female. That’s my dream. I'm currently writing for my soon to be released 'webisodes'.

         

Keith Sheaffer, Mo and artist Veronica Cross at my art opening 'That Summer Feeling'.

Mo as 'The World Class Entertainer' Mo B. Dick.

Your Right to Be Married, My Right to Be Envious

Whoever you are, you should have the right to get married. And these two questions should not exist: Is he out or is he in? Is she out or is she in? And I’m not talking about a Project Runway query. I’m referring to what is known as ‘the closet’. The closet sounds like and awful place to exist. I know I hated being locked in a closet when I was a child (child rearing certainly has changed since my day), but you know I’m not speaking of a literal closet. The world can be a dangerous place, and being in a closet may be the safest place to remain (though how sad that there’s not enough respect and compassion in the world engineered the reasons for the closet). But there is certainly not enough room in most closets for a wedding. Everyone has the right to be married. 

Just don't ask me whether someone is straight or gay. Someone recently asked me this question as the beginning of a conversation about a mutual acquaintance. This was not a good idea. I find it rather distasteful to inquire whether someone is gay or straight. I absolutely do not care about anyone’s sexual preference or proclivity (within the consenting adult arena of behaviors). If you are looking for the answer because you wish to date a specific person, may I suggest presenting a ‘calling card’ with your name, phone number and your most recent DSM IV-Revised psychological assessment, and then strike up a conversation. I guess I’m a bit old fashioned.

But if your date progresses and you both develop to a desire to marry, I am passionate about the right to marry no matter how your choice of a mate’s genitals are configured (or not). As you know readers, I have never been married. And yes, I wish to be. Maybe the desire to be married should be part of a diagnostic tenet for an aggregate of mental illnesses in the DSM IV- Revised. But it is not as of yet. So whoever you are, if you are planning future nuptials whether you are gay or straight, I hate you. Well, I don’t hate you. I’m just envious. Whoever you are I support you, as I expect you support my vacuous desire to get attention for a day from all my friends while I march around before them in a fabulous ‘couture for the occasion’ dress.

What I wore in Ouarzazate...
(For Johnathan Arnold, ErikTLA and Josie Marode)

When traveling, I always try to remember the Girl Scout motto “Be prepared.” (Of course I was a Girl Scout, couldn’t you tell?) But what does one wear when one is completely stranded in northern Africa at the base of the Atlas Mountains, between Marrakech and Ouarzazate, in one hundred degree plus weather?

I can answer this. First, let me give you the backstory: I was on tour in the mid-1980s with Madonna. The last stop of this promotional quick tour brought us to Paris.  

So, it was thrilling for me to go to Paris for a job. I’ve always loved Paris, and I adored my job, which was being a back-up dancer and designer for my friend, who was then beginning her music career. We were booked to stay at the extremely luxurious Hotel Le Meurice. I loved walking around Paris all day in my extreme self-produced fashions. I spent my per diem for perfume at Chanel and ordered obscure crustaceans (well, obscure for an American) at La Coupole.  I returned to my suite and was greeted by the news that we would were extending the tour and going to Morocco.

Morocco! How exciting and what a great opportunity. We were going to shoot a promotional video for the song “Holiday” to be aired on European television. An executive from the French office of Warner Bros. had come up with an idea that included getting us all to the oasis town of Ouarzazate, where we’d be driven around on the sand, in a car, by the winner of the French Grand Prix auto race, because we were, um- on a holiday. It was a simpler time and 1980s music videos really reflect this.  

Marrakech was incredible, so stunningly hot and exotically beautiful. I had never felt anything so hot as the sun in Morocco beating down on my skin. After a couple of restful days in this amazing paradise, we were split into two groups, boarded mini buses and headed south for Ouarzazate. I was grateful that I could remain with my friends, but not so happy about our travel accommodations. The bus looked as if it got lent to us from the “Putt-Putt” mini golf course and, true to first impression, broke down completely as it climbed the first challenging incline.

This was in the time before we were all attached to our iPhones and lap top computers. There was no way to reach, well, anyone. We were on the side of a mountain with no food and no communication, although fortunately we did have some water.

 “American Express won’t help you now, Madonna.” “Fuck you, Rika” was her reply. I did deserve that response. My comment was rather callous, considering we were truly stranded somewhere in the Atlas Mountain range. Our party of three ex-professional dancers, one charming blond artist-road manager, a couple of French record company employees hired to accompany an up and coming pop singer were useless in the desert with a broken down mini bus. I remember seeing part of the engine lying in the middle of the dirt road. This is never a good sign.

I took a little walk along the road. I saw nothing but a glorious and expansive desert, some extremely thirsty looking shrubbery and amethyst stones. Someone had the plan that we should hitch a ride on the first vehicle we saw, which numbered none in 3 hours. Finally, a friendly goat trucker stopped and offered to take us as far as he could. We piled into that musky truck, grateful for a ride anywhere. I recall thinking that I wasn’t dressed in my best back-of-goat-truck fashion, as I was wearing shorts. Bare legs felt so wrong. I was not prepared.

Our benevolent driver came to the end of his journey near remarkable Bedouin camp with a giant tent at its center. Madonna and I were the only women. But these men were focused on their respite from hard work and desert travel. They barely noticed us. There was a large cauldron of goat head soup that we were kindly offered. “Don’t you dare declare you are a vegetarian, Madonna!” For once she listened to me. We drank tea and marveled at how large the full orange moon looked as it shone above the dark, seemingly purple sand.

After navigating scorpions and bargaining with another trucker to drive us to our destination, we finally reached Ouarzazate. We were all exhausted, dehydrated and not speaking to each other.

The resort was stunning. It was completely isolated, far from any other building or dwelling. It felt like … an oasis. But we were all too bitter to enjoy it and opted to just shoot the video by the pool, which was just like any other pool except it was in the middle of a desert. We had traveled all that distance just to dance in front of a pool that could have been at the Marriott Marquis in Time Square.

Here I am, along with Chris Ciccone and Madonna in a promotional video for Holiday. And here is what I wore in Ouarzazate:

(This video was posted on YouTube by Fabricio 2534)

It’s Smart to Art!

Last week there was an array of art openings and art fairs in NYC. It’s such a great time to attempt to see everything. I say attempt, because there are not enough hours in the day (or space in the mind) to see it all. There’s the Whitney Biennial, the ADAA Art Fair, The Armory Show (which has gotten so big these days that it must contain every piece of art on the planet), VIP, Scope, PooL, Volta and Fountain Art Fairs. There’s also the off the beaten path fairs like The Art Boat, The Outsider Art Chair and The Art Kiosk. OK, I made those up, but the Fountain Art Fair did start out on a boat. 

I love viewing art. I do like how art can transport you temporarily to another place. Sometimes the other place is a world I don’t understand, but I like traveling there none-the-less. I like that looking at art can open up a dialogue for discussion. Whether you think the work you are viewing is beautiful, worthy of ownership (even as a fantasy), or just a piece of shite, it’s good to keep the cognitive brain cells active. Remember, it is just an opinion, unless it is your art.  

A few years ago, I was the curator of an exhibition that I titled Beauty Nothing More than the Promise of Happiness. The quote is from On Love by the 19th century French writer Stendhal. The book is a bit pithy, but I find in that sentiment a deceptively simple description of the art viewer’s potential reward. I hope you can find the time to look at some art and find some enchantment or happiness. 

 From The Whitney Biennial 2012:

One of the fantastic paintings by French artist Nicole Eisenman.

Another painting by Nicole Eisenman ( Leo Koenig, Inc.)

'From The Canyons to the Stars' by Joanna Malinowska (Saatchi Gallery).

 A live performance by the artist Dawn Kasper.

Erika Belle and Brian Batista at The Whitney Biennial preview.

From Rammellzee-The Equation,The Letter Racers:

Part of the installation by Rammellzee at the Suzanne Geiss Company.

 A painting by the late artist, actor and musician Rammellzee.

From The Fountain Art Fair:

I really wanted to buy this drawing, but alas...sigh.

One of the many small paintings by Brian Leo.

The "imploding biomorphic imagery" of Margaret Withers.