Jules et Jim

Saturday, December 26, 2015

Post French final, 
which was essentially a forty-minute frenzy in attempt to finish the exam early, splashing through wavy city lights reflected in dirty rain puddles on the street, caught the Nutcracker downtown... later, mom's vintage cartier, dad's vintage lennons, YSL in le orange, and finally a chance to read the Modern Film script of Jules et Jim from Book/ shop.  


Rapid dissolve to the three friends going down a flight of steps leading to a footbridge across the railway lines. 

Voice off:  Catherine was very pleased with the success of her disguise. Jules and Jim were moved, as if by a symbol which they did not understand. 
         Catherine sits down at the bottom of the flight of steps and looks at the sky. Jim looks at her and then looks up with her. 

Jim:  Ou bien je rêve, ou alors il pleut. Either I'm dreaming, or it's starting to rain. 

Catherine and Jules: C’ est peut-être les deux. Perhaps it's both. 

Catherine: If it's raining, then let's go off to the seaside. 
She gets up and looks at them. We leave tomorrow. 






Hazel English

Sunday, December 13, 2015


Hazel English
Brick & Mortar, San Francisco.  
11. 3. 2015.  film 



Jill Sander, the Ads

Sunday, December 6, 2015


Just never gets old... 

1.  S/S '96 by Craig McDean
2.  S/S '98 Angela Lindvall by David Sims
3.  A/W '97/98 David Sims and Marc Ascoli 

I've been keeping a growing pile of 90's Jill Sander Ads for a long time now, always the perfect reference when I need a jolt of inspiration. Other things to help defog the mind during these winter months: 


Visited Pier 24 last week for Paul Graham's "A shimmer of Possibility", and other works. A beautiful exhibit, I'd love to get another look at the room with his purple dusk-hued gas station photos, colors as vibrant as an Eggleston, one of his inspirations. Also a recent visit to the neighborhood library to pick up the film version of "Unbearable Lightness of Being", and "Leon" to celebrate the end of finals! Already planning the outfits we'll dress up in (black ribbon choker but no wig... yet) when we watch "Leon". At the library, never mind a serious time crunch, my overly inquisitive feet led me towards the books, and my eyes to a variety of gems I couldn't leave behind, among them Cy Twombly, Charles Dickens, Susan Sontag, and J.P Donleavy. 

Looking forward to Tuesday, taking a small trip to Big Sur with an old group of friends, which should be brutally cold and beautiful. Later in the week, a holiday pop-up for Book/Shop, a little reunion with friends from Paris, a night show at SF symphony, and a cookie swap party. Oh, december, you cozy, sparkly thing. 





Oui , vous tous.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015


Le Mépris, 1963


You like all of me? My mouth? My eyes? My nose? And my ears?

Yes, all of you. 

Then you love me... totally?

Yes. Totally... tenderly... tragically. 


Confession: wove in and out of the plot with this one, lost in the stunning visuals of the Italian coast and the vixen that is Brigitte Bardot. Wicked winged liner, a French iron bed frame to die for, the luxury of reading novels in a bathtub, an endless stairway to ascend into an endless blue, and to run away from tortured souls. Every girl should own a Vivre sa Vie-esque black 60's wig, which she wears to meet strangers and do the most mundane of chores in. 

p.s Though I've never spent a sun-drenched afternoon soaking in a bathtub, novel in one hand, cigarette in other, if Anne Fadiman's husband in Ex Libris (a collection of essays on the art and joy of reading and book-lovers) reads in a sauna, "where heat-fissioned pages drop like petals in a storm", I can only imagine the sadly dampened state of a long novel read in the haze of a luke-warm, sleepy bathtub...  


december catharsis

Sunday, November 29, 2015





On the last day of a long, long weekend...

After wasting away the morning hours online, with back-pain inducing posture and dry eyeballs (the internet isn't kind to contact lens-wearers) ogling at all the new Dieppa Restrepos on sale but still utterly unattainable, decided enough was enough, and went on a hike through the Presidio terrains with the family. It was clear today, sharp, crisp, cold, beautiful. And it was the first time in months that I found the ocean under my feet. How this absence happens as a Californian, I don't know. The hike wasn't great for the cold I caught over the holiday (it was the soy sauce I shared with the sick boy next to me Friday night, the sushi was good, I forgive you), but rather for the spirit, and I took a bundle of polaroids along the way that I decided to call "December catharsis", if that is any indicator of November being a medley of incredible highs, like TOPS, and new friends, and Tame Impala on vinyl, and unforgettable karaoke car rides (such a good month for music) but also intensely lonely moments even in the company of others, and the tragic reality that this world can be a cruel, sad place. Luckily, I have a friend who more or less shares my mind, but is somehow always at the opposite end of the emotion-spectrum, and after sending a sleuth of depressing texts, she gave me a simple reminder: at day's end, it's our job to find, and never stop believing that there exists some beauty in this world. 



Homme, IV

Monday, November 23, 2015


1. Erik van Gils by Markus Pritzi
2. Dior Homme SS/16



crooked ankles and shadows that slice
bare skin. 

beautiful, no?


My past 48 hours: An outdoor screening of Band of Outsiders, where we finally learned & performed for each other the Madison (heads were turned, our moves were legit!) Today, spent all afternoon in the Haight, conversations about Dostoyevsky and girls from high school getting engaged, over rosemary infused hot chocolate in the moonlight. Yes to romantic November dates with your best friends. Amoeba never disappoints. Brushed up on a little Dire Straits music history in the land of 20 dollar vinyls- we'll be returning sooner than later, with a few more dollars in the pocket and some sewn up holes. 



Dusk

Tuesday, November 17, 2015



I took that train into the city
You know the one that goes under the bridge
I thought I was listening
To the band that played the song that changed me.  

A moment of pure aesthetic pleasure earlier, listening to Mazzy Star on the train ride home. Tuning out blurry faces after a somewhat sad late-afternoon in the city with those dreamy guitar trills.

Whatever makes your heart beat faster

Sunday, November 8, 2015


When in doubt, alone in your bedroom, round up a few photos of your dream girls, close your eyes and drive down a highway, blasting "Song for Zoe & Gwen" and "Catastrophe" by Yumi Zouma, re-paint your nails a deep plum, and practice posing like Didion, one hand casually strung in pocket, glasses in the other, nonchalant...  



"Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends." 
  -Joan Didion









1. Kate Moss by Ryan Mcginley, 2007
2. Joan Didion by Eugene Richards, 2005
3. Phoebe Philo for The Gentlewoman  
4. Romy Schneider circa 1970's

Brooklyn

Monday, November 2, 2015




Brooklyn. March 2015 

Haven't been taking so many photos lately, haven't been to new york in longer, but every time the weather gets all cold and misty like it did today, I'm transported back to this scene in Brooklyn. Is there anything more enchanting than a children's carousel half concealed by layers of white fog, lights spinning in a blur against calm waters, glass on all sides, a thin layer between you and reality.

Other little pleasures : Binging on wicked Lolita-esque film shorts on Nowness, like this one. A lot (never too much) of New Order this week. New record for number of "Age of Consent" plays in a day at work, and the night before, and the day before. Dark plum nail polish, plaid dresses with white collars and lot's of Bowie references (this year's choices for Halloween). Oh and hanging with Jimmy Dean at a new favorite diner until 5 am. More on that soon...


un triangle dans l'eau

Sunday, October 25, 2015






La taille de ce vent est un triangle dans l'eau
The size of this wind is a triangle in the water


Passed by an art gallery as I was walking through le Marais, the colors in these photos caught my eye. 
The bright orange flicker of ember on a tree, a quiet spark of destructive potential, clear blue endless waves and summer skin. 
Manuela Marques is the artist's name. 





Sky below your feet

Friday, October 16, 2015


remind yourself
to look down at
the sky below your feet

reflects a life
distorted and lovely. 


On ballet

Sunday, October 11, 2015


"If I had to title the picture, I would call it Reality and Dreams. The foot en pointe is what every little girl dreams of. The other is the hard, hard work, and the reality."
 - Henri Leutwyler, nymag

Last night at the dance film fest at Brava theatre (my old stomping grounds!) watched Ma Mère Adorait La Danse, a documentary about Brigitte Lefèvre, director of Paris Opera Ballet for over twenty years (1995-2014)....


Homme

Friday, October 9, 2015





juillet  2015, paris 
grand, un peu élégant homme mystère. qui es-tu? 


October

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

So it's been a little while... let's catch up for a minute, just you and I ? 


                                                Sonia Delauney
"Solar Prism", 1914

Colors colors everywhere, blush tones and sunflower yellow, the color of its petals at day break, in late morning, at 2 pm, when sunlight is harshest. In an Agnes Varda film. Light red, bright red, garden-in- hell red of the late Ms. Vreeland. Sky blue, and a boy named Skye, one very lovely, the other, anything but. 

There's a book that stares at me from across my desk at work, it's cover whirling semi circles of bright alien green, thin black curves against stark white, red- it's on Sonia Delauney, and the way the book still sits neatly on its shelf without a loving new home is slightly torturous. 

Mixing brights together in an outfit intoxicates me. Show me 50+ incredible collections from S/S16 Ready to Wear, and I'll tell you that Dries Van Noten and Celine used some of my favorite color combinations this season (this deserves its own post soon). But in reality, faced with a closet full of over-done neutrals that wish they were dusty-pinks, mauves, glittery whites, lace a little wicked, and black leather romanticism more reminiscent of Rodarte and Saint Laurent, my options for dressing more colorfully are... limited? For now, incorporating little bits of color into my wardrobe is solely by way of socks, studs, books, even my shoes are mostly autumn-hued, but enough of that, it's time to trade 4 dollar iced coffee's for a day- or two -or three of overdue thrifting with a best friend (and vintage mastermind) in this city's most colorful- always the Mission.













Spring/ Summer '16
Celine.
























Tonight, listening to: 

Age of consent- New Order

I ran with love but couldn't keep up- Spectrals
You just haven't earned it yet, baby- The Smiths 


Maybe tomorrow I won't be so tired, 
tomorrow is a new day and I will read, 
take a photo 
or two, 

watch La Collectioneuse because it's my day off,
and maybe this one also: 






we are the discourse of others 







 













what is a word?




a word is what's left unsaid. 













The other night, 
re-watched American Beauty. 


 lyon, france
8/19/2015

“…It’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst… and then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.”
                   
  -American Beauty




youth of summer

Monday, September 28, 2015

vondelpark, amsterdam
 summer '15

dreamt of you last night

Wednesday, September 23, 2015


I dreamt about you last night
and I fell out of bed twice
you can pin and mount me
like a butterfly

But take me to the haven of your bed
was something that you never said
two lumps, please
you're the bee's knees
but so am I

Meet me at the fountain
shove me on the patio
I'll take it slowly

Fifteen minutes with you
oh I wouldn't say no
people see no worth in you
oh but I do





“…loss of innocence, that until one has a physical commitment with another person, there’s something childlike about the soul.”
- Morrissey explains the meaning of ‘Reel Around The Fountain’, Rolling Stone, 1986









l'amour de l'après-midi

Sunday, September 6, 2015

7. 10. 2015
reflections in Loire valley 


At the cinema

Friday, September 4, 2015



1. Another grainy shot of my favorite apartment corner
(Remember when we dangled our legs at night, four stories above the dark street, windows open? )

2. Whipped out my 35 mml to get a shot of one of my favorite films, also in 35 mml! 
Watching a french movie in Paris was high up on my corny-but-must-be-done- bucket list, though I wasn't sure if I would encounter any live-screened New Wave films...




Imagine how happily surprised I was, to find a small cinema house playing exclusively Trouffout and Godard just blocks away from the apartment. There were three or four art house theaters on one street alone near Sorbonne, my heart about ready to explode. It's incredible how old cinema culture is still very much alive here, at 3 pm there was a whole line of people (ok, mostly older and retired), save for a beautifully disheveled man in a bowling hat who sat right behind us and looked like a young director (should have been braver and asked) and Tiffany and myself. 

First time watching Vivre Sa Vie in the cinema, and that it got to be in Paris felt special. Every time I see Anna Karina, my desire for that gorgeously cut bob and lined feline eyes skyrockets! At another cinema house called Le Champo, Camilo, Ben, Joe and I saw Rocco e i suoi Fratelli (Luchino Visconti, Alain Delon), in Italian, with French subtitles. That movie must be traveling around France, because I saw it playing in Aix-en Provence a few weeks later too. The funniest bit was at the end, when we all staggered out of the theatre, bleary eyed, agreeing immediately how good it was...then simultaneously admitting how many times we'd each dozed off (to our credit, it was a four hour movie, stifling hot inside, and not a single drop of English! 



l'appartement des musiciens

Monday, August 31, 2015

15 juillet 2015 
 peter's apartment



They met at an open-mic night, Tiffany and Peter. 
She came to Paris a month ago, like myself- as a student, and him two years ago from Liverpool, I think, 
then a model, now an actor, always a musician. 

That afternoon- the three of us wandering around
golden hues and golden leaves,
saving bees from death by une carafe d'eau
and harmony, two-and a half harmonizing voices to acoustic guitar on the hill where Amelie was filmed. 

Then a brief tour of Peter's Chinatown studio-  loved his dusty rose walls, where he told us he and his roommates 
sometimes project films- (note to self: find future apartment with the wall space for film nights). 

Chinatown-a new neighborhood in Paris for me, and a new dimension to Paris- really liked it. 
Just outside- tons of little children running around, playing basketball and tripping and shouting, happiness. 




Homme: Yuichiro

Sunday, August 30, 2015




Yuichiro (Yuu) from Tokyo- of the first friends I made in Paris,

we exchanged words in a mixed-up, silly tumult of Japanese-English-French... 

this happened to me other times in Paris, I would try to speak with the few Japanese people I met- once on the second floor of a small restaurant at night, when a mother in her 40's and her son, a student from the Netherlands, asked me questions in Japanese, like what I was doing in a Chinese restaurant by myself (no one else wanted Chinese, and three weeks into Paris, I was craving good Asian food so, so badly) only to draw a totally blank mind, and notice French was easier, more natural, somewhat of a default for the first time, really. Yuu seems like the kind of guy people gravitate towards, he was friends with nearly everyone who visited the shop that day (so many regulars) and I realized how much of a difference it makes to have a barista, or any kind of shopkeeper, who takes the time to talk to you, and ask you questions. That doesn't happen nearly enough back home. 


Later, met this other girl at the same cafe, she took me to 0fr bookstore/ gallery, 
a treasure trove of art and photography books a few blocks away... 


 Boot Cafe 
19 Rue du Pont aux Choux
Paris









On the street, femme en bleu

Thursday, August 27, 2015



45 rue Saint-Roch, Parsons Paris

Wish I'd asked this girl a number of questions:
where she bought her coat, what she was doing outside Parsons Paris (student.. stylist.. frequenter of Rue Saint-Roch?), where she's from, oh and her name.

This is the first street-style type photo I've ever taken, it's quite addicting, harder than I thought, and I'm already wanting try again. 9/10 times, my fingers are too slow to capture the people who catch my eye. This girl though, with her frayed oversize coat en bleu, black cross-body, red lips & converse, I couldn't let her go.

Later, walked down a random passage close to the Palais Royale, and lo and behold, Maison Margiela.


Be still, my heart.



paris apartment

Monday, August 24, 2015





Well, it's been some time hasn't it? 
three, four, five weeks since i last sat down to write... 

Too, too much has happened since then, and since I've no way of organizing my thoughts anymore (Europe in seven weeks, two words: visual overload), let's start very, very small. Here's a piece of my apartment in Paris. My tiny, one room-apartment where I banged my knee every other morning against the wooden desk that took up half the space, the beautiful little living quarter I fell in love with, two creaky steps in.   

I took this photo my second week in Paris. It must have been a Monday, because these are the fresh peonies I indulged in at the farmer's market (then stole some used wine bottles from the kitchen for vases, and gave half to my roommate, +1 roomie point for me). This was also right after the free museum day, when I visited Centre Pompidou, the largest modern/ contemporary art museum in Paris. 

So, so many great things that day- Sam Francis's "Untitled" series, Fernand Leger's "le ballet mechanique", 1923 running in a dark corner, Hans Richter's 35 mm film "Vormittagsspuck" -ghosts, floating hats, all around greatness, Jean-Isadore Isou "traité de bave et d'éternité", Cy Tyomnly's "Achilles", 1962 and an entire retrospective on the rhythms & motifs of Le Corbusier. And last but not least, Matisse. Purchasing these Matisse post cards was a no-brainer, little did I know that this was the first in six Matisse exhibits I'd see in Europe... eh no regrets! 


Also jotted this quote down in my notebook:

"la vraie peinture commença quand on comprendra que la couleur a une vie propre"
real painting will begin when people understand that color has a life of its own

-Sonia Delaunay 






 

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