Cultural adventurer and social butterfly who enjoys the art and wisdom of good conversation. With a passion for art, film, fashion, and food this ECONISTA loves to travel, take pictures and explore new places. www.reggieworld.com www.thefete.com

(text courtesy of Julie V. Iovine) British architect John Pawson was in town recently, conferring with a client about their new apartment in one of Richard Meier's Perry Street towers and supporting another whose film was premiering at the Museum of Modern Art. He took time out for a coffee to talk about the upcoming show of his work at the London Design Museum opening on September 22, as well as his new home for the museum--announced last month--within the repurposed Commonwealth Institute, aka the Parabola Building, a swoopy 1962 white elephant designed by RMJM in West London. (Also going on the site is a controversial Rem Koolhaas-designed apartment building.)

Pawson. (JVIovine)
Pawson beat out a list that included British familiars David Chipperfield, Haworth Tompkins, Caruso St. John Architects, Stanton Williams, Tony Fretton, and the Dutch firm Claus En Kaan Architecten. Director Deyan Sudjic, the author of several books on Pawson and a close friend (the architecture circle in the UK is pretty small and tight) said that in choosing Pawson he was sure to have an architect "who will bring out the best of this remarkable building."

Pawson has been given the job of transforming the "Parabola Building" into the new home of the London Design Museum. (Courtesy LDM)


From Pawson's description, the show Plain Space promises to be an architect's architecture show that's not academic, focusing on materials--no surprise considering the man favors four-inch-thick marble slabs for his kitchen counter and 45-foot single-plank floorboards in the parlor--and process. Plain Space will avoid show and tell through models and pre-occupancy photography in favor of a more immersive experience. "At my age, I had to ask myself, Why an exhibition now?" said Pawson. "Ten years ago, the reasons would have been more obvious, now it's more like, What's the point? For me, the answer was to make it something people will learn from, to make it something about space, to make it feel like you are walking into architecture, and to make it get across how architecture gets done."

The Novy Dvur Monastery. (Richard Davies)

And hypnotize it may. The film, shot in Anger's psychedelic, overlay-heavy style, captures 11 members of the Missoni family as they disport against a black background and occasionally in in a pastoral setting, done up in wigs and looking somewhat bewildered. The film has a distinctly cultish atmosphere, recalling the mystical goings-on in the artist's previous films, from "Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome" (1954) to "Scorpio Rising" (1963) and "Lucifer Rising" (1970-81) -- the last of which features a soundtrack that Bobby Beausoleil, a murderer involved with the Manson Family, recorded in prison. This association gives the ad an unusual creepiness, and the blending of the cult of high fashion with evocations of actual cults brings to mind Joan Didion's "White Album" description of the time she shopped for a dress for Linda Kasabian to wear to the Manson murder trial.
With its spooky soundtrack by Koudlam and "Twin Peaks"-ian imagery, this campaign is notably discrete from Missoni's past artist-collaborations. The photographs that Ryan McGinley made for the house in 2009 -- of attractive, sun-dappled models, beautifully-garbed and perched atop moving pick-up trucks (a riff on the artist's 2004 image "Dakota Hair") -- are far cheerier. And while Juergen Teller's 2010 portfolio relies heavily on Richard Billingham's moving family photos of his obese mother and alcoholic father in "Ray's a Laugh," the glamorous Missonis, not surprisingly, look far more carefree, lounging at home, surrounded by and wearing their own designs.
Muscle cars, gold, Biarritz and the luxe casual style of LA are all inspirations for Designer Jerome Mage's new company March la.b Photographer Dimitri Coste shot a gorgeous mood book for them. Here is the video featuring his insane green Shelby Mustang
March LA.B
MARCH: For the symbolism of the month, for the number 3, for its 3 founders.
MARCH: For the combination of the names - Marhic, Mage, and Chatel
LA.B: For Los Angeles and Biarritz - Two cities ignoring the delineations of time and distance to create a
new transversal time zone.
Men of many passions, Jerome Mage and Alain Marhic have a clear vision and a true understanding for
accessories, their field of expertise. With the creation of March LA.B, their positioning is extremely
simple: to create product that they love.
Jerome Mage in Los Angeles, California and Alain Marhic in Biarritz, on the Cote Basque, have made
their vision reality... elegant watches for a sartorialist man; a man of character, chic and eclectic in his
taste. A neo- gentleman true to the spirit of Alain Delon, James Hunt, or Steve McQueen, functional yet
refined, the March LA.B accessories line is a tribute to these icons.
March
Alain MARHIC
A sports enthusiast and a father of four, Alain Marhic is a man who has cultivated his passions founding 2 windsurfing
academies in Brittany during the early 1990's as well as having had a successful modeling career. He joined the Quiksilver
group in 1999 working at their world headquarters Cote Basque, near Biarritz. Eventually assuming the position of Director of
Operations for the eyewear and watch divisions. With a vast business experience as well as an eye for design, fashion, and
product development, Alain developed an acute sense of brand management working for a global giant in the action sports
industry. In 2008, he made the audacious decision to leave everything behind. Driven by his passion for product he started the
March LA.B odyssey. He is its founder and CEO.
Jérôme MAGE
At 20 years old Jerome Mage left France to come to live indefinitely in Los Angeles, California where he quickly found himself in
charge of the creative direction of a major action sports eyewear company. An expert in mixing fashion and technology, he
founded his design agency in 2001. Since then, he has built a client list of devoted action sports companies such as Burton
and Quiksilver. Passionate about history, especially all things related to the French 1st Empire period, Jerome Mage is an
atypical designer. He can be seen behind the wheel of his powerful Mustangs, blasting T-Rex glam rock on the California
highways or window-shopping at the Antiquarian Louvre Market while in Paris. He is a man of contradictions and passions, a
true dirty dandy with a hint of retro-futuristic. He is the Creative Director of March LA.B.
Joseph CHATEL
MARCH LA.B Business angel.
.
In his book of autobiographical sketches and reflections, "La Difficulté de l'Etre" ("The Difficulty of Being"), Cocteau described this house as a refuge: "It gives me an example of the absurd and wonderful stubbornness of plants. Here, I find memories of previous countrysides where I dreamed of Paris, just as later, in Paris, I dreamed of fleeing elsewhere. The sun and the water decorate the walls of my room with their false moving marble. Spring rejoices everywhere." After extensive renovations, the property now offers a unique exhibition space as well as re-creations of the rooms in which Cocteau lived.
The ground floor serves as an introduction to Cocteau with an illustrated biography, video images of his self-portraits, drawings, illustrations, and various photographs of the artist in his house with Dermit and his friends. Also on this level, the grand salon has been kept intact, featuring Christian Bérard's large-scale painting "Oedipe et le Sphinx Jouant aux Cartes" ("Oedipus and the Sphinx Playing Cards"), inspired by Cocteau's play "La Machine Infernale," above the black leather sofa.
On the second floor, Cocteau's study and bedroom have been re-created so accurately that it feels as if he had just gotten up and left the room. From wall coverings and picture frames to personal touches -- boxes of pencils and a bulletin board cluttered with tacked-up photos -- these rooms give a vivid sense of his daily life.
Nearby on the same floor are two small rooms with an eclectic assortment of original drawings by Proust, Chaplin, Satie, and Picasso. There are also two exhibition spaces. The first, devoted to temporary exhibits that will change on an annual basis, currently displays a chronological overview of Cocteau's non-literary work, while the second presents portraits of the poet by artists such as Man Ray, Bernard Buffet, Modigliani, and Warhol.
The hall has been transformed into a projection room where the public can watch Cocteau's films, including "La Belle et la Bête" (Beauty and the Beast)(1946), "Les Parents Terribles" (1948), and "Le Testament d'Orphée" (1960), in addition to various films made about Cocteau.
Outside, the sculpture garden still features one of the busts from the set of "La Belle et la Bête." And the pleasures of the countryside that drew Cocteau to this place can be found in the orchard and woods, where he used to stroll with his dog. Photograph by Erica Lennard and photo of Cocteau in front of his house July 1963 courtesy of Cocteau Committee.
Reprinted from ARTFORUM/ article by Amy Taubin
TAMRA DAVIS'S DOCUMENTARY Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child might make you weep (it did me) and might help you better appreciate a painter whose work matters enormously in the history of late-twentieth-century art. It achieves these ends largely though an abundance of footage of its subject at work and with a long interview that Davis videotaped in Los Angeles in 1986, two years before Basquiat's death.
The painter and the filmmaker were friends; they had a rapport and intimacy that allowed Basquiat to be remarkably open, although it should be said that he is almost always open on camera, even when he openly shuts down at a perceived slight or stupidity. "It's Samo--Mr. Samo," he says with a flash of anger when, on a segment (circa 1980) of the cable access show Glenn O'Brien's TV PARTY, O'Brien mispronounces the graffiti tag that Basquiat shared with his high school friend Al Diaz. SAMO©, which is pronounced with a hard "A," is black slang for "same old shit," but as critic and musician Greg Tate noted in his brilliant 1989 essay "Nobody Loves a Genius Child: Jean-Michel Basquiat, Flyboy in the Buttermilk," "it also invites the cruel and punning to identify the writer as Sambo"--in other words, to put his/her foot in the same old shitty racist associations. The SAMO© tag was fixed to enigmatic bits of poetry, filled with just such slippages and contradictory meanings. This linguistic strategy became a central element in Basquiat's painting practice. Explaining to an interviewer why his canvases are full of crossed-out words, he says, "The fact that they are obscured makes you want to read them more." Countering the charge that he simply copied de Kooning or Twombly, he says that what he paints is "someone's idea going through my new mind." He lingers on the last three words, surrounding each of them with just enough silence so that, as we hear them, we also see them as they would be spaced out on a canvas.
Except for the extended interview with Basquiat, which she fragments and returns to throughout the movie, Davis follows a linear path, charting Basquiat's ten-year career from his entrance to the downtown art scene as SAMO© in 1978 to his death from a drug overdose in 1988. In no way does she try to emulate Basquiat's explosive style or the sense of suspended time and space in his painting, although the movie's lively editing owes something to the bebop-laden sound track. "I like all kinds of music," Basquiat says. "But bebop is my favorite." Conversely, I would have preferred that Davis linger on at least a few individual paintings in her quick-cut montages of gallery shows and the painter's various studios. Yes, his output was astonishing; at his death, Basquiat left about one thousand paintings and an equal number of drawings. The movie gives a sense of how driven he was, how it seemed as if he aimed, by sheer volume, to assure himself a place in the pantheon of twentieth-century painters, when in fact he achieved that position by virtue of a necessarily smaller number of masterpieces, produced in the early and late stages of his heartbreakingly short career.
In addition to the footage of Basquiat (there is one remarkable close-up of the artist at work paired with a voice-over explaining that he held his tools exactly as he had as a child at the Brooklyn Museum school, and this, combined with his visual sophistication, is what made his line so distinctive), the film succeeds through an assembly of highly articulate talking heads: colleagues and friends Fred Brathwaite (better known as Fab 5 Freddy), Julian Schnabel, and Kenny Scharf; critics Nelson George and Rene Ricard; the great historian Robert Farris Thompson, who explains that Basquiat "excavated black history in his paintings. . . . Like a Native American shaman, he says, 'I walk with you' "; dealers and curators (in order of their appearance in Basquiat's life) Diego Cortez, Annina Nosei, Bruno Bischofberger, and Larry Gagosian; studio assistants and girlfriends.
Davis relies on Basquiat's first significant girlfriend, Suzanne Mallouk, now a psychiatrist, to make connections between the artist's personal life and the pressure of a career that exploded overnight, and she admirably walks a fine line between clarity and discretion. The film is perhaps too reticent about Basquiat's drug use (one might come away with the impression that drugs only became a problem in the last years of his life, which is not really the case). The movie, on the other hand, doesn't pull any punches in its discussion of the racism of the art world. Hilton Kramer puts the nail in his own coffin with his assessment that "[Basquiat's] contribution to art is so miniscule as to be nil" and that the only reason for the painter's success was that "liberals need to make a gesture." MoMA curator Ann Temkin explains somewhat ruefully that museum curators are uncomfortable with work that looks new because they are so immersed in the art of the past. This problem, of course, didn't stop major American museums from showing Basquiat's contemporaries Schnabel and David Salle during the 1980s' return to painting. What was "new" about Basquiat's work was the place from which his painting spoke--that of the black American male artist. Basquiat was so upset at being snubbed by museums that he got his devoted and astute collectors Herbert and Lenore Schorr to offer both MoMA and the Whitney a painting. The offer was refused; according to the Schorrs, one of these institutions told them that "the painting wasn't worth the space." I only wish Davis had been able to add Tate's voice to this discussion. In "Nobody Loves a Genius Child," Tate comes out swinging. The essay takes its title from the Langston Hughes poem that also opens and closes Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child. He was a genius, he was radiantly sad and radiantly angry, and he is much missed.
Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child opens July 21 at Film Forum in New York. Filmmaker Tamra Davis will appear at 8 PM for the July 21 and 22 shows; Fab 5 Freddy will appear at 8 PM for the July 23 show. For more details, click here.




I don't know if I will be wearing these out, but they are so fun, whimsical and sculptural.
Critically acclaimed designer Marloes ten Bhömer produces shoes that are both provocative and otherworldly. Her work fuses artistic and technological experiment in order to discover shoes anew. Ten Bhömer's work has been exhibited in museums and galleries internationally and she gives lectures about her work worldwide. She takes on challenging commissions from galleries and private clients. (text courtesy of Marloes ten Bhomer)
"If the key commandment of glamorous, upscale shoe design for women is to amplify and exaggerate the curves of the human foot, ten Bhömer's shoes are riotous and sensuous sinners" Shumon Basar, design and architecture
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