Mr. Brainwash. Today. Go.

Today is the [extended] last day of Mr. Brainwash's art show in Los Angeles. Whether or not you like the man's work, it's 80,000 square feet of positive messages and creative use of space. And that's worth seeing.

Some pics from my own visit last week are below.

Now, go.

960 N. La Brea

LA, CA

Doors open at 2 p.

Farms, Schools, Art & MGMT.

What do farms, schools, art and MGMT have in common?

Not much til my rad friend Mark Macinnis brought 'em all together for a sick benefit event this Saturday. Mark directed an incredible film called Urban Roots about the urban farming movement.

Artist Anthony James was then inspired to create some pretty amazing sculptures.

James and Mark are now working to raise money to establish farms in underprivileged urban schools through the Field of Dreams initiative.

And Ben Goldwasser of MGMT will be joining the guys this Saturday night in Venice to raise some money for the program.

I'd tell you to join. But I'm sure you already realize you should. See you there.

MOMAI
711 Hampton Drive
Venice, CA 90291

Saturday, December 3
7 - 11 p

Buy your tickets online.

Yoga + breakdance + grace. [video]

If I could do even one of these arm balances for 10 seconds, I would be happy. This guy can do them while breakdancing, appearing as though this routine is what he casually does before breakfast every morning. He probably does.

Break ton Neck from Alex Yde on Vimeo.

The incredible song, if you're wondering (you must be), is by Awolnation. [via Yoganonymous]

Street art is everywhere (the Austin, Texas edition).

I went to Austin, Texas last week. And I could tell you about the food (oh my god, the food--there was so, so much of it). Or the people (they were just like us Angelenos, it turns out--save the fake parts and the bleached blonde). But I'm going to save my words and show you the art instead. Because the art--it was everywhere, on every street. And in one case, the same wheatpasted, bespectacled, afroed fellow appeared over and over again. The street art in Austin ranged from the pasted to the tagged to the stencils in multitude. And it seemed to fit the landscape as much as the live music and barbecue.

I want to rest my head on this.

In Austin this week I discovered a store called Spartan (more on Austin later, promise). At Spartan, I discovered the most perfectly merchandised boutique I've ever seen and this pillow collection by Coral & Tusk. The brand makes other things but I am a sucker for decorative pillows. True story.

The pillow above is appropriately named 'man eating tiger.' It is incredible in so very many ways.

The beautiful Balloons of Bhutan.

Jonathan Harris is a photographer and a micro-storyteller and a traveler and a personal hero of mine.

When I describe art I always say: I don't know about art. I just know what I like.

I know that the richness and colors in Jonathan's work is as moving and incredible as it gets for me.

Harris' latest released project, Balloons of Bhutan, visited the region of Bhutan where happiness reigns supreme. He used balloons to measure the happiness and wishes of 117 residents.

Writes Harris on his site documenting the project, "Instead of "Gross National Product", Bhutan uses "Gross National Happiness" to measure its socio-economic prosperity, essentially organizing its national agenda around the basic tenets of Buddhism."

A beautiful project about a beautiful region of the world and its beautiful people.

http://balloonsofbhutan.org/

LA gets a piece of Glen Ligon.

Glen Ligon's work is smart, it is beautiful, it is a commentary on black America, it will be on show in a mid-career retrospective at LACMA starting Sunday.

Consider the following part non-sequitor and part warning. Glen Ligon is a Wesleyan graduate. This is a general guarantee of awesome.

Radical Face plays LA tonight.

Radical Face has no pretensions. You can hear it. You can see it in Ben Cooper's unkempt facial hairs and the clear freedom in his bad button down shirts. Radical Face is powerful and makes gorgeous sounds. Radical Face plays LA tonight at the Bootleg Theater. Let's go.

Beautiful things happening at the tarpits.

I've been having stronger than usual feelings lately that I want to be enveloped by beautiful art and beautiful sounds and beautiful people. How lucky for me that Tarfest is happening tomorrow at the La Brea Tarpits and all of the above will be in plentiful supply. And for free. One can't beat beautiful things for no money at all.

I'm excited for:

Sounds by Saint Motel and Everest

Live art curated by the Merry Karnowky Gallery and featuring Deedee Cheriel, Edward Walton Wilcox, and Vox Humana artists Augustine Kofie and Shark Toof.

Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, some of my favorites.

RIP Troy Davis.

The United States government--the one that aims to create peace in every other nation on this planet beside our own--should feel something far more devastating than shame for its actions yesterday.

I am not a religious person and I do not believe in an afterlife. But Troy Davis did. And so, Mr. Davis, I hope that you rest in peace.

[NY Times: Troy Davis Executed]

Tonight.

 

To be concise: Lykke Li makes beautiful sounds that I want to listen to.

Appreciating Richard's art in this digital age.

We live in a time when you can search for 'farm art' on Google (there was a reason at the time for my interest in agriculture art beyond time wasting on the internet, I assure you), come up with an image like this, fall in fast love with it, and then contact its maker via Twitter within minutes to inquire. Of course, sometimes the artist might reply to you with a complete loss of words himself for when he made it, where it is, or how I might get my hands on it. But, as I live in this modern time as well, I can drag it, drop it, and upload it to share with you all in this digital archive of Things. I. Love.

So, enjoy. And, you're welcome.

And, of course, thank you to Richard Hogg for creating a piece that moves me so. Even if he doesn't know where its original is.

Your girl got dicked by Ricky Powell. Photos on display.

 

 

 

Ricky Powell (well, his photos) are coming to LA. Actually, they're here. Tomorrow night, House of Exposure presents 'Dicked by Ricky Powell.' As the Beastie Boys so elegantly put it:

Homeboy, throw in the towel Your girl got dicked by Ricky Powell

Photos from $250 - $2000. 8 1/2" x 11" prints of the famous Basquiat/Warhol pic for $50. Lollipops with Basquiat and Warhols' sillhouettes. Priceless. But at this event, $10.

 

What? You want more news about future exhibits of awesomeness and limited edition wonders? Well, sign up for House of Exposure's mailing list.

A lullaby by Little Joy.

To my friend who introduced me to Little Joy and to this song, I cannot offer enough thank yous. If lullabies were written for the children in all of us, I would ask to be rocked to sleep nightly to this sweet, sweet song.

Shed rather be scarred than be scarred with love.

Matisse on a Sunday.

I've spent much of my Sunday watching--on and off--the BBC Modern Masters episode on Matisse. I could have done worse, I suppose. I could have spent my day watching straight-to-DVD films with Heather Graham [like I did yesterday]. But today I opted for a little culture--60 minutes to be exact--drawn out with breaks and breakfast and naps. And the English accent of the BBC's narrator gives the pretense of grandeur and sophistication to my YouTube video streaming, I think, and sophistication and grandeur were exactly what my Sunday called for.

A few faves, newly appreciated after my studious Sunday telly watching.

Touched by a tot.

This week a child touched me. Not metaphorically, but really. She actually reached out and touched me. It happened on Larchmont. I was holding a bright blue wallet and she waddled on up--this adorable little girl--and she just touched my hand and stared at me and smiled. It happened on Thursday.

The world is a magical place for a child on a Thursday on Larchmont when a woman who must appear very old to her--and tall too--meanders down the street holding a fabulously bright color in her hand.

Music is my boyfriend.

At least it's about to be. I just downloaded Spotify. It's saying hello to America. So I figured the least I could do in the name of America, was say hello back.

I'm looking forward to seeing how/if/when the new service changes the way I consume music. Like, perhaps I'll start to appreciate Gaga or something. Though probably not.

Coveting: Death and the Maiden

Perhaps it is not every girl's desire to hang a 34" portrait of a skeleton in full embrace with a svelte blonde above her desk. But something's got to fill the space left by the removal of what was once a 5' tall upside-down Jesus which proudly and with great Jesus-like stoicism graced my now barren wall panel for nearly 4 years. And what better to replace one painted icon which made people incredibly uncomfortable than with another--equally awkward, if not sacrilegious--piece of art.

I want this print by Edward Walton Wilcox. I want it now. I want it framed and wrapped in a black bow that offers just a hint of the gothic nature of the subject inside. I want to enter my studio and fall asleep each night with the image of undying--or already dead as the case may be--love reminding me of life and living.

Death and The Maiden
giclée on canvas
edition quantity: 25
28” x 34”

Available at the Merry Karnowsky Gallery.

It's Saturday and your life is not that bad.

It's Saturday morning and I'm in Florida and it's humid as a sauna in a broke down spa in the Tropics. And I've complained a bit, I'll admit, in the last 36 hours about the temperature and the permanent dew that has affixed itself to my face and the hairs that won't stop frizzing, even on my arms.

But then I saw this picture this morning--from my air conditioned accommodations--and understood [though I already knew it] that the heat in Boca Raton, Florida is not that bad. At least not when you're merely hopping from hotel room to convertible to manse on the water.

The caption beneath this photo in the LA Times...

Peshawar, Pakistan — A young girl with her head partially covered with flies stands outside her family home on the outskirts of the city, in northwest Pakistan.

To be in your wee years, and to know flies on your small head--that is bad. That is terribly, cruelly bad.

[Image Credit: Fayaz Aziz / Reuters via LA Times]

Kate Bush danced like she wanted to.

30 some odd years ago, the music video hadn't yet developed its affinity for special effects, half naked girls, and cameos by film stars. It was unrefined and shot in one take in the woods with its star in a modest, long red dress and dancing like she's never danced before [and thankfully not many have danced since].

Questionable dance moves aside, the song is beautiful. And beauty's something modern day music doesn't always promise nowadays either.