paper. rock. scissors?

"The foot feels the foot when it feels the ground." - Buddha

"No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may....

...We ourselves must walk the path." - Buddha

"When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky." - Buddha

Just a trio of Buddha quotes that suited my unusually 'grounded' mood. Photography is all by, Rune Guneriussen, an interesting Norwegian artist I happened to come across. (Expect more!)

thing 1 and thing 2

Step right up folks! Presenting... zeeee trailer!

That's right, at last, a preview snippet of that film I've incessantly been going on about; the short that will eventually (post-festival season) be revealed to you in-full.

For now, please have a look at the mini trailers I threw together. The first is the 'real-deal,' but I kind of like the flow of the second one better. Unfortunately, the sound levels for the music on the second one are out-of-whack, and, somehow, I didn't manage to save it, so instead of just fixing the sound, I ended up working against the clock to re-cut the whole thing. Ahhh...some things never change...


P.S. In case you're a bit confused as to what the short is about... this is how it's being described:

East meets west in this stylized character-piece documentary featuring the stream-of-conscious thoughts of a quirky young Indian man who has moved to London. His monologue brims with honesty and humour as he touches upon some of life’s biggest issues: identity, change, love, work, religion and, of course, success.

This documentary turns the oft-referenced “one billion plus people” analogous with India on its head by spotlighting just one of the subcontinent's citizens. This approach lends singularity and humanity to the abstract and populous concept of “India” rather than delivering yet another portrayal of the country’s population en masse.

A high-level of visual aesthetic is used to underscore this man's unique individuality, yet the ending nonetheless surprises the audience by highlighting the fact that he should not simply be viewed as India in microcosm, but a microcosm of the human race.

post tempest

So I owe you all an epilogue... to the day I was sending "goodbye - have a nice flight" emails to Kasey that had her thinking I was going to end up floating in the Thames rather than at the Fed-Ex office when all was said and done.

Well, I made it. Miraculously...truly miraculously... since I have no idea how I figured it out, but I did... I finally got the DVD to burn. I stumbled out of my warehouse and onto the DLR... at last emerging in Mayfair - looking like a slumrat compared to all the coiffed business beauties walking around me.

With the help of a hairdresser (who, no doubt, wanted me out of his posh shop) I found Kinkos/Fed-Ex... and the lovely people there seemed to take it all in stride... they're obviously accustomed to dealing with frazzled sleep-deprived Americans who treat their streamlined office with its "next day" guarantees like some kind of Mecca-sanctuary.

I put the DVD into an envelope. I marked it "for cultural use" and "of no commercial value" (ha), then kissed it goodbye.

Could all that have happened within a matter of hours? From "I'm never going to leave this horrendous industrial building" to "thank you kindly dear Fed-Ex man for taking my large sum of money and promising me my parcel will make it to Paris in time"? Crazy.

And afterwards, despite my sleepless exhaustion, I decided to walk back to my apartment. It was an unusally warm and beautifully pleasant day in London. I strolled through St. James Park, which was tingling and vibrant with the life of spring grass and blooming flowers, and then past Buckingham Palace, where I watched tourists taking souvenir pics as proof that once - once - they had seen this royal residence that I live in walking distance from...

With some trepidation, I arrived at my building, only to find myself immediately holding the door open for somebody who was serendipitously leaving (and who seemed as grateful for my chivalrous gesture as I was for their exit). I retrieved the keys Kasey had left me from my flat's mail slot. Then I rode the elevator upstairs and let myself into my little space, where I looked out over all the roof tops and an ancient church's steeple from my room's balcony and sighed relief.

What a fuss. What a wonderful fuss... for something that worked out in the end... as it always tends to... Can you see forever on a clear day? Probably not, but if the clear day follows a storm, you can certainly sense, touch, breathe, something like bliss.

I've been meaning to post a song from the Australian artist, Lenka, ever since the Sundance Film Festival, when I saw her at the Music Cafe. For some reason, it seems appropriate to attach one to this post. This particular song is called The Show and, besides the hoppy melody, the lyric "it's a joke, nobody knows, they've got a ticket to the show" strikes a major chord with me. But my favourite part is when she sings "I want my money back..." - referring to life, of course. Ha. As if - no? But sometimes, don't we all...?


(I pre-apologise for the lame 'sing-a-long' version of this... it's the only youtube link they will let me play here in the UK... feel free to look up the actual video if you're in the States!)

what it feels like to be alone...

it's 8:30 am
i've been up for over 24 hours
i'm stuck in a white warehouse-looking room with a space heater
i just missed my sister leaving to the airport for the states from my house an hour away
she has my house keys
she has my phone
the computer says it's out of space when i try to create a 'self-contained' movie
i've spent hours looking at this jumping blue icon that's supposed to create dvd's "so and drop!" - according to everyone - but can't get past its chipper suggestions for how i can create a dvd menu
cannes is due in 3 1/2 hours
at the fed ex station an hour away
i have no way of getting in contact with anyone
and i've probably been crying nonstop for the past four hours
i'm seriously going to have a nervous breakdown

fashion beat a la 'sestra nožisková'

Behold... Kasey's first video creation. This will give you a more, well, moving picture of London Fashion Week than what I normally provide. It is also the first of many such solo and collaborative creations we plan to deliver. Welcome to sestra nožisková. Enjoy!

P.S. This mini-film premiered on our friend Stefan's site Not Just a Label and is also where you can find Kasey's article on the latest exhibit at The Welcome Collection, Dressing Up Calamity.

Lion Taming

"Obstacles are like wild animals. They are cowards but they will bluff you if they can. If they see you are afraid of them, they are liable to spring upon you; but if you look them squarely in the eye, they will slink out of sight."
- Orison Swett Marden

This month has seen a lot of crazed, rabid, ferocious obstacles. Conquering them, instead of running, as I have in the past, is something I am learning... slowly...

Painting is by none other than my dear, Rafal Olbinski.

above politics

"Nobody in their right mind would give up the manifold sensual, aesthetic and gastronomic pleasures offered by French savoir-vivre for the unrelenting battlefield of American ambition were it not for one thing: possibility.

You know possibility when you breathe it. For an immigrant, it lies in the ease of American identity and the boundlessness of American horizons after the narrower confines of European nationhood [...]"

The above excerpt is from Roger Cohen's latest Op-Ed in The New York Times and it caught and held my attention. I had just been speaking to someone about the unflinching ever-present sense of Americans' optimism, and how, as much as I adore living in Europe, if I ever have kids, I'd want them raised in America for the very reason Mr. Cohen articulates in his article - people brought up in the States are simply instilled with greater acceptance, autonomy and hope than what people have here in the UK.

As for the rest of the article, well, I can't speak to whether or not Obama is now "Gallicizing" the States... I hope not.

Absolutely Quasi-Fabulous

The best nights are always those that are not planned nor can be recreated, instead they unfold happenstance in the most wildly unpredictable fashion. They are always the nights you were anticipating you'd stay in with popcorn and a movie, and the next thing you know, you've been whisked to a dance club with a group of rock stars you ran into at Blockbuster - in your pajamas no less.

This past Saturday was such a night. Kasey and I flat-out missed the "planned" event (a Martin Margiela party) - but quickly found ourselves caught up with the remaining straggling revellers who, right there on the pavement, proceeded to cobble together an after-party.

After a march through Mayfair, we found ourselves in a dark, tiny, cave-like room in the basement of Soho House (it was the only place they could find to put us) where we talked art, ambition and parental expectations. Occupationally, it was a creative mixed bag... a singer, installation artist, fashion stylist, makeup artist, model, dilettante (me), fashion PR revolutionary - you know, the delectable crazy-artist gamut. Then, feeling we knew each other a bit better, and growing tired of heavy conversation, we traded in the demureness of our Soho grotto for dancing at the equally diminutive and subterranean Bungalow 8.

It was a wholly random and interesting crowd... a fantastic evening... and to top it all off, we'll probably never be in the same room together ever again. Pictures of this once-in-a-lifetime event follow.


Palm reading.

Cowboys and uh, Native Americans...

Kasey - blatantly skeptical of her newly-acquired accessory.

Don't shoot!

A stunning couple - non?


Ze group.

Candid group.

Dancing on the tables...

And the floor!

Parting curtsies?

What happens at the 8...

Stays at the 8.