planning for the exhibition…

darlings

as you may recall *looksquicklytocamera* – we Did mention this, non?

we have An Exhibition.

isn’t that glorious?

just checked in with the owner of the cafe/artSpace back in SoHo *blush* NYC and we Are Agreed on the materials therein – just waiting now for extra permission slips from the people-in-the-portraits so they feel comfortable being stared at through a lorgnette or two.

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so – as it stands – here are the Pictures Chosen *blush*

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the landscapes will be printed Large (as posters) and commercially available (the polite british words do still amuse) – the portraits will be smaller (11 x 16 most likely – still discussing this With Our Printer) and given as gifts, after the exhibition comes down, to the owners portrayed.

so exciting.

more nearer the time.

it runs throughout May 2013 in a small cafe/artSpace in NYC.

*blushingfuriously*

 

the dreamy sweet-sleepless world of #nicolettaCeccoli

darlings. …….

do look at this strange and beautiful piece of art that courted our senses and captured the Vast Imagination as we walked by the AFA gallery on greene street today……(tis a saturday – art calls…)

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Breathtaking.

And curious.

While disturbing and also Rather delicious.

Non?

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When we are next in Italia (spring we hope – early would be lovely; late is more likely), we must beg (prettily) for a studio visit and rose-hip with honey cakes on a tiny tray (one of those tiered cake stands from a baroque castello).

The artist is divine.

Nicoletta Ceccoli.

In America at AFA (54 greene st, nyc 10013) in the gallery space right now and in the Permanent Collection thereafter.

In deepest realms of thought and Fantasy and gorgeous-ness on the internet here and There.

while forever in one’s waking dreams…….

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Breathtaking.

The new bohemians, vagabonds, flaneurs and other cafe dwellers.

Bohemianism is the practice of an unconventional lifestyle, often in the company of like-minded people, with few permanent ties, involving musical, artistic, or literary pursuits. In this context, Bohemians may be wanderers, adventurers, or vagabonds.

bohemians

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since we’ve started to wind down our Life in nyc and prepare for LA (or a more bicoastal existence because, one never knows where the wind of paid work blow one’s soul…..it will be a Vast irony if we get a carte of green but Other countries fall harder in love with teamgloria’s first book ;)

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……we have been thinking a great deal about those who do not go to a skyscraper every day.

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And there are an increasing number of them.
Even in a skyscrapers dominant land like nyc.

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We recall the day we lived through the first enforced Flight of the Creatives.

On a newspaper, back in the early 90s; we looked around and realized that Most if not All those who Wrote had now, slowly, been eased out of the new “open plan” desk areas and sent home.

The smokers went first.

Meeting rooms were now management areas and there were no dark corners of strange thought post-lunch hurried or languid conversations to be had.

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some attempts were made to create group office rentals (and some are excellent ideas, like b*hive).

but the liberation of the laptop took Most into cafes and to walk the streets (in a non commercial sense)to think, plot and dream.

Voila

The emergence – once more – of cafe culture, the flaneur and the Bohemian. 

And most are very attractive. 

Delicious.

One could Almost be in 1920s Paris.

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Or soho, yesterday. 

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We’ve been in both, recently. Naturally.

a saturday back in manhattan: street art, salad, sumptuous with an air of Vivienne Westwood

firstly, a few photographs on our first saturday back in manhattan after being Abroad:

after Therapy (Most Interesting), we took a walk around the area to feel our feet on the pavement/sidewalk/street again and to notice how the jet lag started to lift as we noticed things anew – streetArt, people, accents, puff-ball-skirts-on-Japanese-tourists (girls) and pork pie hats on New Yorkers (both genders – or at least two of the seven we observe possible, perhaps more, in the Spectrum – but the usual ones that people identify Others as anyway).

the art store (Blick) was open so we stocked up on new moleskine journals and cartes postales and blue-blue-envelopes with satin paper inner linings and a Radical magazine (for tis in such an area in such an art supply store that one Finds such things – so Deeply Interesting in this Time Of Change) and then More of caffeine’s dark embrace as the jet lag subsided and then Returned, idly twisting our brain cells into something Almost akin to Sadness but not really.

new graffiti abounded on the streets around Bowery and a magazine torn up and pasted on a concrete wall from 1930s Barcelona (how had we missed that before?) and new (proofs) and vintage (second-hand) books on the shelves at housing works on crosby opposite a movie shoot (isn’t there always one around, it seems? NY in the spring/summer is full of film crews in bomber jackets and terse expressions and we-ve-been-up-since-dawn-weariness).

the day has felt different because we’re wearing a new fragrance.

actually, it’s a fragrance we wore back in 2002.

from Vivienne Westwood

it’s called Boudoir (blush).

and we ordered the tenth anniversary edition (from 2008) without realizing it has been a decade since We wore it (curiousness) – mainly because we remember it fondly (orange blossom, vanilla, deep tuberose and cinnamon) from our days in Los Angeles – but also because we adore toiles de jouy (and the bottle is thus embellished).

drifting around manhattan, still not quite here, fully, in spirit or physically, it seems, and surrounded by a once-beloved fragrance on our pulse points and subtly perfuming our pashmina (the celestial blue one), we were reminded of that line by MFK Fisher – which we can’t find so forgive us for paraphrasing or misquoting:

I was wrapped in a passionate mist

here are some other quotes from Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher that you might enjoy.

she always had wonderful things to say about life, and food, and fragrance and love.

don’t you think?

we’ve just woken up from a nap……………..don’t you adore a nap on a weekend afternoon? with nothing but the sound of birds outside, taxis whisking people back to their hotels with packages from shopping, tired feet resting on the little leather mats they have beneath the TVs that all residents turn off instantly and perhaps a few Tourists watch – just for the news or the weather or the excitement of being in NYC, the sous chefs prepping for the many restaurants in SoHo, and maybe Patti Smith is hanging out on her stoop, writing poetry and glancing darkly up at the sky (she lives Quite nearby, we just found out – and we saw her last Winter as we were trying out our new Swedish wellington boots in the snow – she came swooping round the corner in a Russian greatcoat which looked like it came from a used vintage store but probably came from Prada or Balmain – she’s Very Impressive close up, as I’m sure you’d imagine, darlings).

so you see – lots of not joined-up-thoughts – post-nap – still inside the jetlag from Abroad and now off to walk up to the swimming pool and exercise before surrendering to the expert hands of a masseuse.

life is utterly delicious, isn’t it?

how was Your saturday, darlings?

what did you do?

Update: #blissfulMassage post-swim (feeling So Virtuous – 3rd time this week, despite slug-like-jet-lag) and a long, slow walk back through Greenwich village (and, ahem, a moment’s musing in #milkandcookies for a – yes, you guessed it – a glass of milk and a milk chocolate cookie – oh yes, the raw juice fasting plan didn’t exactly get underway ;) Yet.)

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cherry blossom and cafes full of intellectuals reading Barthes and Heidegger – a springtime saturday tale in NYC

The cherry blossom is so lush and full that it hangs ponderously over manhattan today, at every street corner urban garden and runs wildly through central park.

So it was thus enveloped in fragrant flora that we tripped lightly to therapy (an American Cliche but actually So Helpful – now one tells the truth, or our nearest relationship to something akin to Real feelings, darlings).

And now – post-therapy – we are surrounded by piles of just-read-european-newspapers and mostly male intellectuals with slight shadow and furrowed brow reading roland Barthes and Heidegger.
you couldn’t make this up.

Before we moved to NY, we had a sojourn in Los Angeles (as you may have read in these pages before – ) and before that, spent a decade in London, during which time we did a Lot of research about Life in Manhattan through books and newspapers and films…………..and so we have no Idea whether we just happened to bring forth the Manhattan of our fevered imagination Or whether it really is as we dreamed .

The men-with-books.

The corporate-warrior-fit-female-executives.

Barista ‘dudes’ in artful italian denim and oh-so-casual-Converse.

Bright sunshine that requires shades at All Times.

The newbie-gaze-up-into-skyscrapers-in-awe-and-anticipation.

Used bookstores and students in vintage tweed.

Poets eating brioche.

Hedge funds are elsewhere. We don’t mix That Far downtown, darlings.

Our ‘beat’ (as they used to say in news-worthy-newsrooms) is here – the bit between Indochine and Gemma (bowery), Mercer (for noodles at Kelley Ping), newsagent-of-international-repute full of Italian fashion models (chaps) and blonde brits (writers of novels) on sullivan.

And then there’s that bit in the sniper fire of midtown where we earn the cash to travel and live and meet Very Interesting People.

But down here, on a saturday morning, after revelations in therapy and before taking-a-train to brooklyn for brunch – this is perfectly manhattan.

From 1986 or 72 or 91.

We imagine.

We didn’t live here then.

But this is Exactly how we thought it would be.

Therapy?

Oh.

Thanks for asking……..

Negotiating femininity; the thrill of participation in the swimming pool akin to the feeling part-of in london clubs back in the day; Corporate power structures and family of origin work.

You know

– exactly what you’d expect, in Manhattan.

We just didn’t know about the cherry blossom.

That has been the most delicious surprise.

Have a gorgeous day, darlings.

You deserve it.

sunday night walk round soho.

Oh.

We drank coffee a Tiny Bit too late in the day after meeting up with friends and, so, um, we’re trying to wear ourselves out with a little walk.

Here’s what we spotted tonight.

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How would you pronounce this?

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btw, we sat in a cafe for three hours today (yes, we’re a regular and ordered at regular intervals so as not to be rude) and Finished the First Proof copy and ordered the First Print Dummy of “how to stay sane: when it all gets too much” (yes, darlings, a picture/edited blog posts/guidance book about Tobias and his sisters and the surgery and on-going lessons learned therein).

Yes, it’s funny.

Apart from the bits that were really painful and sad and moving, of course.

elegant encounters

Oh! We had the loveliest encounters today (and yesterday too)

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lady-of-letters has the Most Awesome Rolodex (is there a plural? Rolodexi?)

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Somebody terribly glamorous brought their Hermes bag to visit.

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We were tickled pink to be asked our Opinion about a career matter. And, in return, we asked them to blow bubbles so we could try a new #instagram filter/filtre/effect.

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Then we met a delicious plump and haughty cat while purchasing more “thank you” cards.

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One of which we shall be sending tout suite to jC who took us to supper tonight. A Most Elegant Occasion.

Truly.

(there were tough bits in the past couple of days but we are choosing to be Very Doris Day about everything and see life through a new and rather Rosy lens)

Because it’s just easier if one does, darlings ;)

surrendering to the pharmacist.

as the day draws near for the moment where we appear in a fetching (let it be a flattering shade of blue or a pale biscuit with white piping) gown and they say:

count back from ten……….can you feel this?

where are we?

and the chemicals enter our vein (it’s been such a Long Time since That Happened), we are doing the last tasks on our list before we are confined (the picture is not actually our pied a terre, it’s the james hotel in soho where we might check in for a few days just to switch up the view).

yesterday was a visit to the pharmacist.

The James Hotel, SoHo, NYC

the worst bit about the pharmacist (although they were Very Nice – we like to use our local alchemist for all matters that ail us and they also do their own line of lavender soap which is so comforting) is that we’ve never been medicated before*

*although MANY professionals have wanted to do so ;-)

so the little orange plastic bottle is waiting for us post-surgery and we’ll have to take one every day (to replicate the functions which our poor thyroid used to do before they opened up our throat, removed tobias and his sisters and take our thyroid and glands with them as they are all damaged now).

every bloody day.

can you imagine?

and if you can, can you tell us what it’s like?

not happy.