C’mon Irene

Posted on August 28, 2011 by killerfemme

Here is New York, come hell or high water

Post-Irene skyline view from Sunset Park

So how did I survive New York’s biggest storm in decades? Just fine, thank you. I’m really not one to buy into weather related hype, but I’ll admit as I read the storm reports rolling out on Twitter (yes, this is how I get my up to the minute news these days) I began to get a little jumpy. I spent some time pouring over the map of evacuation zones the Office of Emergency Management put out. I read up on hurricane tips offered by everyone from the mayors office to my electric company. Fortunately, I don’t live in an evacuation zone, but actually on the second highest hill in Brooklyn. My apartment building is a solidly constructed brick building from 1931 that has withstood many a storm. So, I figured, a little rain, a little wind, big deal. In fact, I think the Fucked in Park Slope blog captured my kind of storm prep the best with this entry and chart.

A couple dances in Sunset Park after the storm

Honestly, I think that the NYC government did a pretty decent job of informing everyone. They had a plan, they were organized and they got the word out. I thin they got a little hysterical, sure. I think their move to evacuate all of the Rockaways was a little bit much and that they were making up for their complete lack of planning with this past winter’s big snow storm. But I followed directions, filled up my water bottles and filled the bathtub with water in case we lost electricity and thus water pressure. We never lost electricity. Heck, because my windows are west facing I even kept them open during more of the storm and no rain blew in.

Windowblown clouds after the storm

It was really sweet that all of my far-away friends reached out with their support and well-wishes. New York truly is a global city that many hold in their hearts. Since I moved here 10 years ago (to the week!) I’ve experienced September 11th, several huge blizzards, two tornadoes, and an earth quake (which I didn’t feel). I missed the black out of 2003 because I was in Oregon for the summer. I’ve also experienced so many personal trials and tribulations that come with negotiating life in a huge metropolis. New York is a stalwart city and it passes that on to its residents. To live here and not loose your mind I think you need to develop a sense of resolve, calm and willingness to be ready for anything.

Portland Revisited and Seattle Discovered

Posted on August 27, 2011 by killerfemme

The house in Portland, Oregon where I lived in in the summer of 2002 and 2003

In the fall of 2000 I packed my life into boxes, shipped them across the country, and began a five year love affair with Portland, Oregon. I lived in a house that housed a record label, regularly hosted indie pop shows, and sheltered a somewhat revolving cast of characters who were indie rock musicians or appreciators of the genre. After a year of zine making, playing in bands, biking and making intense friendships (the kind you kindle when you are 19 and you are linked by common interests, far fetched ideas and, often, a lot of drama) I moved to NYC to go college. That was right in time for September 11th, but that’s another story.

Sign outside the Independent Publishing Resource Center

While I was in college I returned to Portland as often as I could and lived there in the summers and helped organize the Portland Zine Symposium until 2004. I deeply associate Portland, its relaxed lifestyle, political commitment and particular aesthetic with my early 20’s, with finding and revising my identity and informing the person I decided to become.

Crepe cart at Cartopia on Hawthorne in Portland

Portland has changed a lot in the past 10 years. By changes I mean it has intensely gentrified and every year another street seems to be taken over by a host of art galleries, wine bars, eco-friendly, artisan produced goods, and food truck pods. I often wonder what the underlying economy is that drives this relentless development. It’s also become somewhat of a national joke thanks to the (very funny) TV show Portlandia. Sometimes it really does feel like the dream of the 90’s is alive in Portland.

Brunch at Junior's, one of my favorite PDX breakfast spots then and now

However, I’m also happy that many of my friends have grown up and been able to buy houses at relatively cheap prices and been able to build their adult lives in Portland. I visited my favorite place, the Independent Publishing Resource Center, which is growing and flourishing. I even attended the Portland Zine Symposium, which is still going strong after 10 years. The choice of zines and dedication to independent media and radical ideas about and society was just as strong as they were when we began it 10 years ago.

Pony Boy Press' Table at the Portland Zine Symposium

Playing in the park with my former housemate's daughter

After Portland I headed further up I-5 to Seattle. Despite my long standing, long-distance fascination with Portland I had hardly spent any time in Seattle. SMH went to college there and despite growing up in Central Washington, his family now all live in the Seattle area.

Puget Sound, Seattle

We jumped in to some touristic activities. This included visiting the Crab Pot, a seafood restaurant on one of the downtown piers that give you a pot of steamed seafood, a mallet, a board and a bib. Coming from Maine I know that lobster crackers would be much more effective than a mallet, but with no shame I donned my bib (I had to go to work after lunch and was wearing work clothes) and dug in.

Seafood Lunch at the Crab Pot

Donning my bib with no shame at the Crab Pot

I also got to enjoy some delicious coffee on Capital Hill, and an astronomically large, grease soaked breakfast (in the middle of the afternoon) at Beth’s Cafe in Green Lake.

Breakfast at Beth's. The hasbrowns and coffee are unlimited. The portoin sizes are legendary.

I really wanted to love Seattle. At first I thought that it would combine my need for a big, cosmopolitan city with the nature, greenery and relaxed lifestyle I love the Pacific Northwest for. But here was a problem I did not anticipate: the traffic. Seattle has terrible urban planning and only adequate public transportation. This is surprising to me, given that Portland, Oregon, has made a major commitment to improving its public transit infrastructure over the past 20 years or so. Seattle’s current mayor is a major bike supporter, but I don’t see a lot of infrastructure being created to encourage cycling. And parking. In addition to traffic and whether I-5 will be totally backed up, that’s all everyone talks about. Where to find it. How to pay for it. I do not want this to be my life. So for now, Seattle is off my “I’ll move there one day when I get sick of New York City” list.

Outside of Trading Musician in Seattle

East of the Mountains

Posted on August 21, 2011 by killerfemme

St. Andrews Mission, near Crow's Shadow Institute, Umatilla Reservation, Oregon

Usually when someone says “Northwest,” referring to the Northwest United States, the image that comes to mind is of evergreens, mountains, mist, a wild coast line and rain. Lots of rain. However, east of the mountains the landscape is quite different. Between the Cascade and the Rocky mountains is a large area of high desert. It is sun drenched, windy, hot and dry. Some of it is flat, some of it is rolling hills and fields, other parts look like you are on the moon. Upon flying into Spokane, Washington several weeks ago I found out that this area is called the “Inner Northwest.”

Bumper Stick seen at 50,000 Silver $

Here’s where my geography gets a little nebulous. I would say the “Inner Northwest” includes eastern Washington and Oregon, as well as Idaho, and Western Montana. But I don’t know if Montana would consider itself Northwest or “Inter Mountain” west. Anyway, what I love about these places is they are, unquestionably, the west. You know when you pass roadside attractions like 50,000 Silver $ that you are in the west.

50,000 Silver $, Montana

I have an aunt and uncle who live near Sheridan, Wyoming and spent many summer weeks as a child traveling out there to go visit them, help them heard cattle and ride a Welsh pony through the sagebrush (yes, really). So I have a strong affection in my heart for “big sky country,” lodge pole pines, Stetson hats, and steep mountain passes. I love long Montana coal trains that stretch on forever (though waiting for them as a railroad crossing is not fun) and was thrilled on this recent trip to watch them be assembled in downtown Missoula.

Train yards, downtown Missoula, Montana

Sky in Missoula, Montana

The most striking part of driving through such beautiful countryside along Interstates 90 and 84, as well as smaller routes, was realizing that the last time I drove through this part of the country I was 21 years old. I was living in Portland, Oregon for the summer and had borrowed my Mom’s car to drive out and back from the east coast. This put over 6,000 miles on the car in 3 months, which may have been its death knell.

National forest, Idaho, along route 12

However, driving along those highways and byways I felt like I had just been there. I remembered the place I stopped along the road after Lookout Pass in Montana to lay on the ground and look up at the trees and sky and breathe in the sharp, piney air. I found the motel that K. and I stayed in for a night in Missoula. Everything came rushing back. The landscape looked just how it did then. And then I realized, wait, that was 9 years ago! I have lived so many lifetimes since then. I’ve finished college and nearly finished graduate school. I’ve loved and lost and loved and lost and loved again several times. I almost moved to another country and decided against it and decided to make my life in New York. I’ve held several jobs and lived through one of the worst presidencies the US has ever known. And yet, I felt, out there, I could have just as easily met 21 year old self on the side of the highway. Young, restless, a ball of nerves and energy, unsure of her place in the world.

River near Florence, Idaho, along route 55

Modern Hotel at Sunset, Boise, Idaho

Rainbow Cafe, downtown Pendleton

Umatilla Reservation, Oregon

I’m still searching for my place in this world, but I am thankful for this landscape. The lanscape grounds me and to help me remember where I have been and how wide the spaces are where I could go. And I know that no matter where I go, this landscape will go on without me, as it always has.

Columbia River, Oregon

Char Burger, Cascade Locks, Oregon (with the Bridge of the Gods out the window)

More photos on flickr.

Tru Luv

Posted on August 21, 2011 by killerfemme

ECW + SMH, July 2011. By Dominick Mastrangelo.

I’ve told you a lot about my talented friend Dominick and the great photos he takes. He’s shot my band Corita on numerous occasions, but he does more than shoot music. Earlier this summer he came over to my apartment to do a food photo shoot with me and SMH for our food blog 2 Cooks in the Kitchen. We’ll have those photos (and recipes!) up there soon, but I wanted to take this opportunity to share this photo with you. I know SMH hates his photo on the internet, but I wanted to share this one. I love it because it’s so honest. It was taken on a Sunday. I was tired. We had been cooking in a hot kitchen at a fast pace for several hours. I was not wearing any make up, my hair is too long and out of order, and our house is a mess. But when you look at this photo none of that matters. It’s an honest portrait of two people and their feelings. That’s why I love Dominick’s photography so much.

Corita Rocks the Office

Posted on August 18, 2011 by killerfemme

Guitar + Work = Rock

I was so thrilled when Jason, the filmmaker behind the webseries “All New York’s a Venue” approached Corita about featuring us in his project. His videos feature indie bands playing songs in atypical locations, often quite unfit for a musical performance. The best part about the videos, I think, is that they are not music videos per se. They are not overly staged. They are just a live performance in an unconventional location.

My band Corita posed a challenge, however. We can’t play acoustic. I don’t want to sound snobby, but our songs rely on reverb, delay and a little bit of distortion (see, we’re a bit shoegaze). This does not work on an acoustic guitar, so playing on the subway or down by the Gowanus canal (our favorite NYC polluted waterway) was not an option. We needed somewhere to plug in.

Then I came up with an idea. My workplace is incredibly supportive of artists. That’s our business. We also have an airy, light-filled loft in DUMBO. Considering we had a feminist tea party come and set up shop in the office for a week I thought, well, why not a band? The organization was only too happy to agree, as long as we did it on a Saturday when the office was empty and kept the noise to a minimum.

It was really funny, and strange, to load all our gear into my office and play our songs about disenchantment, growing older, and looking at the sky in the middle of the file boxes and computers I see everyday. But that is part of the fun of the project. The incongruous nature of the music and the location. I hope you enjoy watching the results!

All New York’s a Venue #6: Corita – “Act So Fake” from Jason Hood on Vimeo.

All New York’s a Venue #6: Corita – “Clouds” from Jason Hood on Vimeo.

Summertime Coup d’Coeur (et craquage pour les soldes)

Posted on August 17, 2011 by killerfemme

I know what you might be thinking: when did this blog start to be so much about trees, art, and philosophy? Where’s the fashion, where’s New York City? Maybe you are not actually thinking that because you also know that being a blogger who touches on fashion is a fairly new penchant for me. So here is a little entry to satiate your (er, my?) fashion cravings before I head back to the woods of Maine and New Hampshire and the mountains and plains of Idaho, Montana, Oregon and Washington. At least blog wise, that is. I’m firmly rooted in Brooklyn for another month, thankfully, as I love the soft sadness and changing weather of late summer in the city.

Top: J Crew, Skirt: American Apparel, Shoes: Ellips

This summer I resisted participating that oh-so-French twice yearly tradition: les soldes. That’s when all the clothes from last season go on sale and you can watch that beautiful object that you’ve had your eye on get deliciously marked down until you can almost afford it. This was the case with Ellips, the chausseurs de createur from which I got a beautiful grey, black and red pair of heels from in the winter. How I wanted their multicolored summer sandals! How I could not afford them! Finally les soldes rolled around. I took a deep breath and grabbed my credit card. But no! The pair I really wanted, the lovely Alice, was out of stock in my size, which is one danger of waiting until the sales.

I hemmed and hawed and finally decided on a second choice, which was the sassy Anais, who I like to imagine was named for one of my favorite writers, Anais Nin. Something I love about ordering from Ellips is emailing Priscille, la creatrice herself, en francais (though I am sure she speaks English perfectly) to place my order. She is so nice and helpful and her shoes are beautiful, comfortable and high quality, in addition to being handmade in Spain with all natural leather. I could hardly contain my excitement when they arrived. I gave them a special bike transport home and then took them to work the next day (in my bag, no biking or riding on the subway in these beauties!). Apparently, they were the star of our weekly meeting. I already have my eye on a pair of boots (or two) from the new collection. The Bonnie or the Bluette? Either way, I better start saving!

Special shoe transport

I know where paradise is and you can get there on a ferry from Tsawwassen

Posted on August 16, 2011 by killerfemme

BC Ferry off Galiano Island

My life is made up of moments made possible by the generosity of my friends. Sometimes they are people who I have known for years, who I have slowly and surely built a relationship with based on shared experiences and ideas and we give to each other because we have known each other for so long and our roots run deep. Sometimes friendship comes in a flash and I feel a kindred spirit with someone I have just met and the generosity pours out suddenly. It was the second case that got SMH and I on a ferry from Tsawwassen, British Columbia, to Galiano Island last weekend. Galiano is an island just north of Washington state in Canada’s Gulf Islands and a place that I’ve decided closely resembles paradise.

Dusk on Whaler Bay, Galiano Island

I met our host J., who lives in Vancouver, at a baby shower for a mutual friend last winter. I mentioned that I was probably going to come to the Pacific Northwest in the summer and she mentioned “the island.” We hit it off and hung out again before she had to head back to Canada and her job with the BC Ferry company. When we made plans to visit the island I had no idea what a treat we were in for or how generous J. and her family would be when we were there. Getting to Galiano is easy – it’s about a 40 minute drive south of Vancouver to Tsawwassen, the port where the ferries leave from, then about an hour sail across. Even though you can still see the Tsawwassen terminal from the docks of Galiano once we stepped onto the island we stepped into a different world.

Fishing at Sunset, Galiano Island

Our weekend consisted of catching crabs and fish, huge, ugly, monstrous looking Ling Cod to be exact, and eating them that same evening; drinking wine on the deck while the sun set over the bay; cracking up while watching Bill Murray in Stripes on VHS; walking through thick forests to a pebbly beach with frigid water; admiring seals, otters and eagles; and even taking the plunge into the refreshing waters of Whaler Bay.

Whaler Bay, Galiano Island, Afternoon

Taking the plunge into Canadian waters

Growing up in Maine I used to spend a week or two a summer at lucky friends’ summer homes on islands, so I know a bit about the island life and how transporting it can be. However, there was something about Galiano that seemed even more magical. Maybe it was the thick cedar and fir trees covered in moss in the forest, or Mt. Baker towering over the bay in the distance, or the fact that nature is so abundant that you can pull your dinner out of the water (provided you have a proper fishing license). Galiano Island is one of those rare places that worked its way into my heart quickly and suddenly and I know I will keep it there forever, not unlike those suddenly generous friendships that continue to endure throughout my life.

Mt. Baker in the distance at sunset

O, Canada!

My review of Gary Indiana’s “Last Seen Entering the Biltmore” on NYFA Current!

Posted on August 15, 2011 by killerfemme

Gary Indiana

There was a New York City that I dreamed of when I was growing up. It was a mixture of Greenwich Village during the Beatnik era and the Lower East Side of the 1980’s. It was full of punks, dreamers, activists and artists. The dangers that might have been lurking there were more aesthetic than real. Poverty and hunger were stylish accouterments. All who were there possessed the ability to transform the urban environment. While obviously this political, arty urban paradise existed only in my imagination some lived it in all its gritty, dangerous, complicated, hungry reality. Patty Smith lucidly captures it in her recent book Just Kids. Gary Indiana’s new compilation out from MIT Press, Last Seen Entering the Biltmore, collects his poems, prose, short plays and works of art from the late 70’s to the present, chronicling through his artistic production his time in this environment after he made the decision to “not to do anything he didn’t want to do” and to become a writer. Last Seen Entering the Biltmore captures Indiana’s sense of absurd and also his strong artistic integrity. I wrote a full review for NYFA’s online magazine for artists, NYFA Current, and would be honored if you checked it out here.

The Utopia Project Part II: Woodstock Byrdcliffe Guild

Posted on July 20, 2011 by killerfemme

Why do artists need to get away to create? Does creativity really flow better in a rural idyll where one could shut out the outside world if one so chose? Does modern life really hamper creativity and the ability to produce as an artist? Over 100 years ago Byrdcliffe was founded in Woodstock, New York to test out these ideas as a utopian Arts and Crafts community. The Arts and Crafts movement believed that industrialization and urbanization was compromising peoples ability to live and create and put a great value on the handmade and the skill of the craftsman.

The Byrdcliffe campus certainly seems the embodiment of the Utopia Project. It is transporting: a series of arts and crafts cabins from the turn of the century connected by dirt roads and trails. A stream runs through it and light filters through the birch trees. After I finished working I spent the afternoon hiking up the nearby Overlook mountain to explore the ruins of an old hotel and to look with awe over the Hudson Valley stretching out below me. I used to think that the golden, soft quality of light in Hudson River School paintings was a whole lot of Romantic bullshit. However, the more time I spend in the Hudson Valley, the more I see that painters like Asher B. Durand and Thomas Cole were actually capturing the quality of light that they observed.

The view from Overlook mountain

Ruins of the Overlook hotel

I cooked dinner in the communal kitchen the residence where I had given a room for the night and spent the evening eating and talking about art, politics and building a creative life with some of the resident artists. I felt privileged to be able to be able to step into the world of actually living as a resident artist for a night. Byrdcliffe is like an artists summer camp where there are few rules besides respecting the quiet and focus of others. As a child I never liked summer camp, but I found myself reluctant to leave Byrdcliffe. I think that’s because it combines the fun, peace and isolation of camp with the focus and autonomy of adulthood.

One of the residency bedrooms

Lunch at the Byrdcliffe Cafe

Just invoking the name “Woodstock” brings up a whole trope of myths in American culture. To an outsider like me I wondered how the region around Woodstock, which is sleepy and rural and mountainous, was host to such an important cultural event back in the 1960’s. Places like Byrdcliffe help provide an answer. Byrdcliffe was founded in 1902 as an experiment in utopian, artistic, arts and crafts living, supported by a wealthy Englishman. It has grown into a nonprofit arts services organization that now provides acts as a touchstone for artists throughout the Woodstock region offering exhibitions, performances, and many professional development opportunities. In addition to those who participate in the residency program, artists can also rent cabins and studios for the summer.

Screen porch artist studio

Artist studios behind the birch trees

As I become more deeply a New Yorker I savor more wholly the opportunities to get out of the city and to immerse myself in rural experiences. Byrdcliffe provides a place for retreat from the pressing concerns of modern, urban life, which is what the Arts and Crafts Movement focused on. There one can concentrate on creativity and artistic exploration in the midst of small town life and natural beauty. In what I think is becoming a resounding theme of my visits to Northeast artist residencies: I can’t wait to go back.

Mt. Guardian trail

Flying (and Photographing) Above the Clouds

Posted on July 15, 2011 by killerfemme

If you follow me on Twitter or Flickr you are probably aware that my latest technological obsession is the app Instagram. It allows you to take, share and comment on photos with your iPhone, as well as add filters to them that make them look a little better than the average smart phone snap. What I love about Instagram is that it connects me to a network of friends and strangers around the world who share postcard moments of their daily lives. It’s pure visual pleasure (on a small screen) that allows members to share the stories of their lives through photo vignettes.

On my Instagram feed my visual obsessions become quickly apparent: there is a high quantity of images of clouds, sunsets, sky, cats, coffee, food, Paris and New York. Looking at so many shots of sky from around the world inspired me to snap a few pictures using my iPhone (I used Camera Plus and Hipstamatic) while I was on my puddle jumper of a flight up to Maine yesterday. I loved the distortion of the sun and sky provided naturally by the airplane window and the textures of the clouds. It also reminded me of the song “Clouds” that my band Corita wrote – shimmery, sing songy, dreamy and noisy. You can listen to it and download it here. Enjoy!