Showing posts with label bliss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bliss. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Highway 1: An Appreciation



A love for small-scale character-drive auterist masterpieces was not born in me at NYU film school. That happened much earlier, thanks to my late father, who introduced me to Raging Bull at age ten (whoa) and later, Clint Eastwood's directorial debut, Play Misty For Me.

Amazingly enough, American independent film wasn't born in a convenience store in New Jersey, or even in Austin, TX. No, way back in 1971, Clint and co. scrapped together the financing for this 16mm production which made incredible use of location photography in Carmel-by-the-Sea, including passages of the famous Highway 1. Still worth a spot on your Netflix queue, Play Misty for Me is a suspenseful precursor to Fatal Attraction with Clint as a late-night DJ stalked by an obsessed fan.

Yesterday, I was helping a friend plan her first roadtrip in California. Anyone who's done it know that there are three options connecting north and south: the superfast, superhighway 5, the slower but more scenic 101, and the mind-numbingly beautiful coastal Highway 1.

I got to thinking about all my experiences on that legendary highway, especially in that mythical land between Big Sur and Monterey. I've done it a few times, once with my high school best friend Sean, who white-knuckled it over the frighteningly steep cliffs which are total car-commercial territory. I've done it more recently, when flooding in California shut down the perilous passage for weeks because of the threat of mudslides. I thought about Clint and also the final scene of Harold and Maude, where Harold veers over to the 1 in his tricked out hearse.

I'd love to end up in Big Sur someday as a bohemian old lady, wearing lots of white linen and tending to a garden filled with fragrant herbs and driftwood sculptures, having coffee with lumberjacks and novelists down at the corner store. For my friend's trip, I told her definitely to hit the funkadelic Deetjens Big Sur Inn. And have a meal at Nepenthe, which is this crazy restaurant that looms 800 feet over the Pacific Ocean. If you're a romantic who loves the solitude of the open road (even if you bring someone else along!), Highway 1 is a trip you must take before you die.

Saturday, April 5, 2008

A journey to the intersection of art and life to say farewell to the Flux

This is the story of one Englishman, one Argentinean, and one Californian’s adventure into the fringes of the Queens art scene. It all started when my coworker Tom was invited to an opening at a show called “Everything Must Go” last night at the Flux Factory.

In case you’ve never heard of this teeming experimental laboratory, Flux Factory is a live/work commune for artists in Long Island City that’s about to be demolished. At one time, I wanted to create a photo book about collective living spaces, and Flux Factory was one of the places I researched by stopping by occasionally, once for a class on bookmaking, and also for an installation piece where they had novelists living in pods in the main loft space churning out a complete manuscript in a month.



Every time I’ve been to Flux, I’ve felt like I was intruding on the living room of people far cooler and artsier than I. This visit was no exception—after we’d woven our way past car dealerships and Taiwanese megachurches to arrive at the space right on time, Tom and I found ourselves the first non-residents present. Everyone else seemed to be artists engaged in final tweaks of their installations.







The charms of the show were slow to reveal themselves—I think in part because we were initially timid to begin exploring a space where there was little delineation between public and private space. Everything Must Go is definitely one place where art is everywhere from the giant soup pot of jellybeans on the kitchen table to a loft-bed laden with homemade pies, but more on that later.



But once people started to arrive, including Tom's Argentinean friend Manolo, and the booze started to flow, Flux Factory revealed delightful secrets in hidden corners and some truly innovative uses of space.


Above is a picture of Tom adding to the wall of art. His contribution? A Fish n' Chips sign, of course!

One of my favorite installations is pictured at left. The giant cut-out figures conjured childhood and were a little bit scary at the same time. The best part was the sound, though. A sound artist had rigged up a xylophone and some other percussive instruments to play weird, whimsical music.




“This is the best experience of New York I’ve had since I got here,” Tom raved. A native of the UK, Tom has been living and working in Stockholm for the past five years before joining the British Tourist Board New York office on a temporary assignment. He’s grown very fond of the relaxed, laid-back atmosphere of the Swedish capital. “So it’s the like the Brooklyn of Europe?” I asked him. “No, more like the Berlin of Sweden,” he replied. On the other hand, Manolo insists that Buenos Aires is filled with examples of Flux Factory-like places.

Several of our favorite experience not represented here:
  • The pie and milkshake installation: one of the artists had transformed her living space into a salon of delectable desserts. For a nickel, she would make you a custom milkshake, but even better, you could climb up to her loft bed and enjoy a slice of pie! Not something you see in New York everyday, kids! Tom’s inner Homer Simpson gave this installation a blue ribbon.
  • The slide. Remember to sign the release!
  • The rooftop shack built by Tom’s friend Michaela
  • The strange percussive rattling of Manolo’s truck on our way back to the city over the Queensboro Bridge.

You can experience the swan song of the Flux Factory’s current incarnation in Long Island City during the month of April. There will be a closing party that will probably surpass this opening on Saturday, April 26. Check their website for more details.

Go for the pies, stay for the intersection of art and life.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Project Friday: The Best Burger You'll Ever Eat


The secret of the best burger you’ll ever eat? It starts with grass-fed beef and the right cooking equipment. Read on for the burger experience of your life.



Step 1: Assemble ingredients and equipment.

You’ll need:

  • A miniature cast-iron skillet, 6’’
  • A third of a pound of grass-fed beef for each patty
  • A plastic take-out container lid
  • Condiments of choice: mushrooms, onions, pickles, jalapeno peppers, cheese, tomatoes, greens, pickled vegetables.
  • Bread vehicle: Brioche bun (if available), ciabatta, bialy, Thomas’ English muffin.

Step 2: Preparations








  • Take a third pound of beef and shape it into a thin patty on the top of the plastic takeout lid (it will puff up a bit as it cooks).
  • Season patty with salt and pepper.
  • If time allows, let patty or patties rest in fridge for a while
  • Disarm smoke alarm
  • Open windows and strategically place fans


Step 3: Fire it up










  • Preheat skillet on high for a few minutes until it is blazing hot
  • Slap a patty on the skillet, you may reduce heat a little bit if there is a lot of smoke
  • WARNING: not uncommon for grease fires to break out at this point in the cooking. Watch carefully and take necessary precautions.
  • Cook patty about four minutes on each side for medium rare (this is not a science, I figure the small-farm grass-fed beef you can eat practically raw, one good thing to do is to let the burger rest for a few minutes after cooking to let the center cook a little more)
  • While burger is cooking, toast bun, prepare other condiments.
  • Flip burger; it should have some nice charring—if not, raise heat and turn fan to high.
  • Place desired cheese on charred side and allow to melt while other side is cooking.
  • When burger is done, set it on the toasted bun and throw some thin-sliced onions in the pan to fry in the hamburger grease.
  • Top hamburger and enjoy.

Some good burger iterations:

The blue velvet: blue cheese or gorgonzola, watercress, grilled onions

The Senor Caliente: jalapeno peppers, bacon, Swiss, homemade pickled hot onions and carrots

The Monsieur Canard: duck bacon, Gruyere cheese, pickles, red onions.