Freezing My Baws Off

The Fountain was a disappointment, despite the fact that I had already lowered expectations after seeing the trailer and reading a review in the Chronicle. It's not a bad movie, per say, it's just not up to the caliber of Requiem For A Dream, or Pi for that matter. I will say that I admire what Aronofsky tried to do, and there are moments that are the signature of a visionary filmmaker - particularly some of the montage sequences set to Mogwai, but the three mini-narratives that make up the film just don't mesh well together. It's part Science Fiction (and whoever compared it to 2001 needs to be shot), part Lord of the Rings, and part contemporary drama, and I just wasn't moved or inspired in any way. Even the photography was kind of a bummer (some of the visual effects were really cool, particularly at the end, but the majority of the scenes were too dark for my liking), which is bizarre, considering how amazing each frame was in Requiem For a Dream.

Currently I'm at work reading Well, which is turning out to be a pretty interesting book. It's not brilliant, and many of the short little fragments that make up the novel want to be great, but just are missing something, but Matthew McIntosh writes some beautiful prose, and I'm digging the post-Modern sensibility, particularly the use of so many different first-person narrators, which the mind wants to assume is the same individual, but the details of the stories suggest otherwise.

I also just purchased The Contortionist's Handbook, Reasons to Live (both thanks to my friend Dave's recommendation) and the soundtrack to Morvern Callar on Amazon. These were just things I've been meaning to acquire, and after reviewing my finances, and realizing I've spent next to nothing this month, it was time to make the plunge. Some people need a lot of money to live, but as long as I can afford Nick's Crispy Tacos, and a few books, CD's, and DVD's each month, I'm really content.

I also am patiently awaiting the arrival of two prints from my friend Tiphanie over at antigirl. Her work is so amazing, and I highly recommend you consider purchasing at least one yourself. My prediction is someday these images will be quite collectable - which is another way of saying quite valuable.

It's freezing this week in San Francisco, as it is in many other parts of the west coast. Our flat doesn't have a working furnace, so we're forced to use those little space heaters, which, while providing some comfort, are about ten times more expensive to use than gas. On top of that, we can't run two heaters at the same time, or else we'll blow the circuit, so my housemate Jennifer and I are forced to rotate heating times. Last night I was too cold to even walk down the hallway to tell her I had turned mine off, so I just called her cell phone to let her know.

Where have we come to as a society when one housemate just calls another one, in the same flat, just to coordinate heating schedules, rather than make the effort to go knock on someone's door?

It's probably best to not over-analyse such things, but sometimes I wonder.

Absolution

This photo mosaic is really cool. (Hint: just keep clicking.)

This weekend I watched Down By Law - which I hadn't seen since film school, and which stars one of the coolest people in the planet, that being Tom Waits - as well as Made in Britain, another disturbing but fascinating film from Alan Clarke, which stars Tim Roth in his film debut. (Roth is so good here it's scary.) If you're looking for new obscure recommendations on Netflix, and can stomach either slow-developing art films with gorgeous black-and-white cinematography (Down By Law) or stories with taboo subject matter (Made in Britain), you might just want to check these two out.

Tonight, I'm going to watch The Fountain and will report back tomorrow. Everything I've read has been medicocre, at best, but several friends loved it, going so far as to compare it to 2001, so I hope the reviews are wrong.

Storm Watch

So I never told you about the Storm show last weekend. This was a big event for me, finally getting a chance to meet a real hero of mine, an artist who has created some of the most indelible, and recognizable, images in pop culture history. When he first arrived, I was walking back from lunch near Union Square, a tooth pick in hand, and suddenly I see this figure getting out of a car right in front of the gallery. My boss was already there, along with the other owner, and I just joined the pack, figuring I'd get the introductions out of the way early. Well, Storm reached his hand out (which was also holding his cane) and said, "Nice to meet you, Rob. I've got to pee."

An hour later, I dropped in on Storm and a few of the sales staff and asked if anybody wanted coffee. (This was the time of my daily Starbucks run.) Storm, who had been a little grumpy after a long drive from Santa Barbara, quickly said, "Now you're talking, Rob!" He ordered an espresso and an almond croissant, and insisted that I find a real "cake shop" - which to another Brit would seem perfectly reasonable, but to me, was a bit eccentric.

That evening, as I was on my way home, I gave Storm a copy of my book. At first I chickened out and asked my boss to do it for me, but he said, "Give it to him yourself," and when I turned around, the whole room had gone silent. So I handed it to him, explaining - with a red face - what it was, and how, for the next book, I wanted to hire him to design the cover. Storm studied it for a few minutes, and then asked me to put it in his bag.

Friday, after another croissant run, Storm asked me to help hang the show. (Since he has some trouble walking, he would just sit in the middle of the room and tell people where he wanted things.) Quickly he went from this kind, humorous man to a tyrant, barking orders and snapping at everyone in the vicinity. He has this way about him where he asks you a question, and while trying to craft an answer that doesn't upset him, he leans into you, and then chuckles when the answer seems stupid. Most of my co-workers just laughed it off, dismissing it as the price of dealing with genius, which I did in the beginning, especially during one exchange where he asked what picture was on the wall in the next room. I told him Led Zeppelin's Presence, and then held the print up, just so he could visualize things. Storm immediately said, "Don't show me, Rob. I know what it looks like - I made it!" which, in the context of how he said it, with this dry British humor, was quite funny.

At other times, though, his constant shit-talking got to be annoying. By late that next afternoon, I was over the whole "meeting a hero" thing, and when he called me downstairs to get the status of a print job, one that I stopped everything to assist him with, I yelled back, "If you hadn't made me walk all the way down here to tell you, I would have been done with it by now!" Several of the sales staff looked at me like I was crazy, but Storm started to laugh and said, "Okay, Rob. Please hurry up."

We had several more of these little exchanges, where he seemed to be testing me, or maybe just fucking with my head (even though he treated everyone this way), and when I stood up for myself - and talked back to him, he began to like me in a strange way, or at least he respected me more for having the balls to put him in his place.

Saturday afternoon, the day of the show, I had to get out of bed - really hung-over after a crazy night partying with Serg and Todd - to finish a print job Storm had assigned to me, which basically consisted of blowing up this logo at Kinko's. Anyway, I was grumpy that I had to go into work on a Saturday, and I was frustrated that Storm had turned me into his little errand boy, so when I showed up at the gallery and discovered that someone else had already done the same thing I had just finished, I was furious. Storm said something about, he didn't know, for sure, if I was going to do it. At that point, right in front of the gallery, I was like, "Fuck Storm! If I say I'm going to do something I'm going to do it!" and he said, "Well, Rob, don't get mad. Let's see what your logo looks like." He ended up liking mine better because it was bigger than the others, and he thanked me profusely on my way out. He even yelled down the block, twice, saying "Hey Rob!" and when I turned around, "Thanks, Rob!" which was nice, because he finally made it clear that he appreciated the effort.

The show itself was a lot of fun. Over 200 people showed up, many first discovering the exhibition after seeing ads I designed in the Chronicle and the Examiner (which was exciting to see, particularly the full-page one in the Friday papers). Right before Storm left, my boss arranged for the two of us to have a photo taken (where he pointed at me in his signature way and said "This is the man right here!"), and when I shook his hand at the end, he very quietly said, "Take care of yourself, Rob" and tapped me on the shoulder. He then asked me where Rupert was (Rupert was one of the photographers from his studio) and I told him, "He's coming right now." Storm then smiled and said, "Well, tell him to get a fucking move on it!"

It's weird to meet someone who you think so highly of, and it's even more bizarre to then butt heads for a little while, but in the end I came away with a memory I will always cherish, and I see now why his images are so brilliant - every little detail has to be just right, and he's not going to stop until his vision is realized. That's something important to apply to my own work, this obsession with the little things, and ultimately, making sure everything is in its right place.

The Calm Before the Storm

Last night I went to the Warriors game, and saw them beat the Raptors. They have an exciting young team, and Nellie has them playing a fun style, often with four guards on the court together. Monta Ellis is a baller, and Biedrins is tough inside. If I can score some $10 seats on-line from time to time, this might be a regular thing.

I miss Oakland. Not the Coliseum scene really, which is as ghetto as ever, but Rockridge. Last Sunday my buddy Brett and I had lunch and beers at Ben and Nick's, to watch the Dolphins crush the Bears, and just running into so many old acquaintences was nice. There's a real pulse to North Oakland, I mean, the vibe is always interesting, and the people there are real, with out any of the pretentiousness of the Marina and North Beach (or perhaps just a different kind, one I'm nostalgic for), and just seeing my old place brought back so many cool stories.

Tomorrow, well tomorrow I meet Storm - an amazing, inspiring, artist. I've been using his images in all kinds of design work the past few weeks, ads for like the Chronicle and the Examiner, etc. which has been surreal, to say the least - just because his work is such a trip, and he's created so many iconic memories.

He's coming by to make sure everything is in the right place, and it should be amusing to see him at work, just asserting his presence, but with his dry British humor, telling Ed, the guy hanging the show, where to move things.

While I know I won't behave like a fan, this is the one time I have to pull back and go, whoa, this is the man right here, perhaps the coolest I've ever met, and it's not like this happens every day.

I just want the next few days to go off without a hitch.

Clearification

For some reason this really amuses me.

Paint it Black

Okay, to clear up the rumors, let me just say, yes, I was kicked out of the hallway in front of Keith Richard's dressing room, but it wasn't for doing anything illegal, and it wasn't for misbehaving. I was supposed to take photos of the band with some of our clients. That was how I got backstage in the first place. Anyway, I was taken from the Rattlesnake Inn, where all the family members, friends, roadies and a few backup musicians were drinking beers and eating Shephard's Pie, to this room where Charlie Watts, the drummer, was shaking hands. He came right down the line, and in the kindest, most sincere manner, looked everybody in the eye and said "Nice to meet you." It was as if we were all old friends, and I liked the man instantly. Then Ronnie Wood came out. The group I was with had all bought paintings from Ronnie on Saturday night at our gallery opening, and some of them had flown in from back east just for this opportunity, so they were thrilled to talk with him, if only for a minute. I wasn't blown away but the experience seemed pretty cool, something that would be memorable later. Just then a woman approached and said, "Who's the photographer?" and before I knew what happened, she grabbed my shoulder and pulled my out. I tried to explain who I was but it was too late. The bouncer at the door just shook his head and pointed in the direction of the buffet, as if to say, appreciate what you have, dude, and get some food before the concert begins, and whatever you do, don't piss me off. I smiled in embarrassment. It felt like a major scene but hardly anyone noticed or knew what happened when I brought it up later, and ultimately, nobody really cared, particularly me. In fact, now that I think about it, I realize how cool it'll look for my gravestone to read: Thrown out of Keith Richards' dressing room.....Anyway, by that point I had had enough of the backstage scene, and with the concert getting ready to begin, I headed to my seat, which happened to be about fifteen rows from the stage. We had given one of the extra tickets to a girl who used to work at the gallery, Ashley, who's a designer and just a fun person, and who I hung out with most of the night, along with one of her friends. We all had a great time......The Rolling Stones are real performers, and even if they're getting up there in age, and even if the costume changes were a bit much, they still know how to get down. The stage was amazing (with all these crazy colors and this giant set of inflatable lips at one point), Mick danced his ass off, they played extended versions of Paint It Black and Sympathy for the Devil, and I took a ton of pictures, which I'll organize in the new few days. (In the meantime, click on the photo above to see a bigger version.)

Anyway, since June I've been fortunate to see The Walkmen, Radiohead, Brian Jonestown Massacre, Cold War Kids, Yo La Tengo, and The Rolling Stones, and for a person who lives for moments like this to drown out all the other nonsense, I've done a lot, I have to say, and I appreciate all the opportunities I've been given.

Cheers.

A Nice Surprise

I just found out I'm going backstage to the Stones concert tonight to take some photos of the band. Needless to say it'll be quite surreal. I'm not much of a celebrity hound, so I probably won't go out of my way to talk with them outside of a "nice to meet you" and a handshake, but nonetheless, it's going to be interesting to see the "machine" at work, probably during their last stadium tour ever. Hopefully I'll have some good stories to tell tomorrow.

Richard Billingham

In case you're not familiar with his work, dig this.

October 31st

Last night I was torn about what to do. I hate feeling like I should have plans just because everybody is talking about a silly holiday. I also worry about grown men who get overly excited about wearing costumes, particularly when it involves dressing as the opposite sex. On the other hand, something was telling me I should at least drop in at some dive bar for a few rounds, knowing full well that wherever I go, comedy seems to follow. I also tried to connect with Casey, who was in town, but she didn't get back to me until early this morning. Well, I ended up taking a long walk through the Tenderloin and Nob Hill, planning a new story in my head, and saw a few amusing costumes, not to mention the usual assortment of tweakers, but nothing too exciting or out of the ordinary. There was a second where I thought I might head over to the Castro, just to see the anarchy, but the last Halloween I went to there, which was in 1998, I saw more dangling ball-sack and heard more lisps in a four-hour spell than I ever cared to, not to mention a friend of a friend getting his bare-ass kissed in the middle of the street, so ultimately last night I decided to cut things short and go home. Something seemed pathetic though, this going in early, but I tried not to let it get me down, returning back to last Friday night, when everything went so gloriously. Then this morning I read that seven people were shot in the Castro, and several others were stabbed in the middle of the crowd, along with two or three sexual assaults, and I thought, well, you know, I think I made a wise decision after all.....

I ended up watching The Fog of War, which I recommend for those looking to educate themselves about 20th-century American history. That's not to say that Robert McNamara isn't problematic on a lot of levels, but nonetheless, without putting too much weight on partisan ideology, I think it's an interesting film, and it was told in an effective manner, and at the end of the day I'd rather watch a documentary that causes me to rethink a few things about the world than some mindless, numbing sit-com or another reality series that has all the chubby women at the watercoolers the next morning discussing the highly calculated drama.