Why is it that any sort of "famous couples" hi-jinx remind me of the classic 1999 film Never Been Kissed? Moving on: The artist Jonathan Horowitz has designed a collection of pillowcases that play tribute to duos (of varying degrees of fame and/or longevity) through some collaboration among P.S. 1, Art Production Fund, and Calvin Klein. The most timely—and least surprising—set is on display in the windows of CK's Madison Ave. store:
From WWD, which ran a little blurb on the project.
Starting Monday, Colette (le store in Paris) is hosting an exhibition called "Barbie & Ken" as curated by Krazy Karl in honor of the dolly's 50th b-day. While Barbie takes her usual meltable form, Ken will be played by non-eunich model Baptiste Giabiconi, who's part of the new Fendi campaign. There is much Chanel-inspired B&W to be had.
...Or so says this blog Film School Rejects. This artist Mitch Ansara has given the middle finger to those stinkin' Hollywood types who keep swiping their movie ideas from classic books ("The Curious Case of an F. Scott Fitzgerald Story Only KIND OF About What That Brad Movie Is About," anyone?). Instead, he's turning the most important movies of our time into sixties-style books—well, sixties-styles book covers, at least, that look pulled straight from bins at Strand, worn edges and all. My favorites are below, and the rest are on M.A.'s Flickr.
Note: All of the designs aren't in black 'n white 'n shocking pink—just the ones for my choice films. This clearly says something (and something not that highbrow) about my movie taste.
ANYWAY, it's written/compiled by this art director slash illustrator chica Leanne Shapton, and there was an article in the NYT about her and her project today. Her take on consumption and the thing-filled nature of our lives (which she's not necessarily criticizing here) just make me want to read and own and hold this thing more:
“It’s sort of about how reliant we are on our things to define us,” Ms. Shapton said, acknowledging that there is a strain of what she described as somewhat “suffocating discernment” running through the protagonists’ lives.
“But I wanted to balance that with a pretty genuine love of very private meaning,” she said, adding that most of the things put up for sale are “those kinds of things that mean everything to the person who owned them and nothing to anyone else.”
Some such things that mean nothing to nobody from Important Artifacts...gotta love the Nuvaring.
Unfortunately, the internet is being a total fucking slacker and is serving up like no pictures of said publication. GAWD. Thankfully, there is this video that gives a better sense of the layouts and content without spoiling all the fun:
This U.K. graphic designer Nikki Farquharson (who does stuff for Missbehave mag) produced a poster series called "Rebuilding Expressions" that gives classic proverbs the ol' 2009 facelift. I'm not a huge fan of the font—makes me feel like I need to attend the School for Kids Who Can’t Read Good and Wanna Learn To Do Other Things Good Too—but the concept and the updates are super smart. Take a look:
Impossible to read, I know. Click the image to enlarge.
These bonkers hat doodads on Mr. Lagerfeld's Chanel runway? They are made of 11x17 office paper, per WWD. Like, the business you use to print PowerPoints. How uncreative do you feel now? They were designed my Katsuya Kamo (Japanese...shocking, I know), and there's plenty more headdress bananas-ness right here.
T, who is always impressively good at reading the non-Americanized news from the U.K., sent me this awesome Guardian photo feature of seventies rockers at home w/ the 'rents (as shot by John Olson of Life). There's something especially charming about the one of David Crosby and his dad. Maybe it's D.C.'s suede shirt. Or that rad mustardy flowered chair.
Also, I feel the need to apologize (again?) for my major blogging malfunction as of late. It's winter. My futon is on loan to a too-big little brother. I've actually been reading and going to the gym. Blah, blah, blah. My Jan. 28th resolution is to suck less.
First off: UGH. I've been such a bad blogger. Christmas is so time-consuming, you guys. ANYWAY...
My friend C sent this rad link about could-have-been Obama campaign logos, and it got me thinking that 1) god, I love fonts and 2) god, I love branding. I the last couple years, I've been particularly drawn to logo art and logos-as-art. A few of my faves:
A. The Liquidated Logos from Zevs, this Parisian street artist. He does Coke, Mickey D.'s, etc. too, but I love the fashion ones.
From MocoLoco
B. The Learn the Basics puzzle for babies by Atypyk. Yes, I know that the concept of acquainting tots with the Nike swoosh is foul, but come on. You can't deny the coolness of the design or the statement it makes.
Remember that Seinfeld when Mr. Pitt ate his Snickers with a knife and fork? Well, yesterday C, she who is far artsier than I, showed me stuff from this design agency Populärgrafik, and she and I are both loving these photos from from their Land of Milk and Honey collection. They remind me of that episode, and I'm so sure that's the precisely what they were shooting for here.
Why does that strawberry soda look so fantastic? WHY? Clearly I need an afternoon snack.
You guys, I don't even like vodka, but I'm obsessed with this. It's a disco-ball bottle from Absolut. (Well, actually, it's more like a super sweet mirrored shell that hinges at the bottom and fits OVER an Absolut bottle, but still.) And, it comes with matchy disco ornaments. Too bad I already have those. (Duh.)
Last week, there was a media shitshower (like a shitstorm, but less dramatic or exciting) surrounding a Paris Hilton portrait by the British artist Jonathan Yeo. And with good reason: The piece is actually a collage made of porn. Then Damien Hirst went and bought it , and, duh, that thrust it into the category of Banksy's Warhol-style Kate Moss.
I saw this puppy, along with some of Yeo's other stuff happenstancely last weekend at the Lazarides Gallery pop-up on Bowery in NYC, and while the famous faces business was cool, I HEART the leaves:
It took me until 2008 to realize that writing things on the internet doesn't (necessarily) make you the most annoying person in the universe. Then my friend had a dream that I had a blog where I posted a photo of myself in an orange sequined dress. Hot.
Last week, there was a media shitshower (like a shitstorm, but less dramatic or exciting) surrounding a Paris Hilton portrait by the British artist Jonathan Yeo. And with good reason: The piece is actually a collage made of porn. Then Damien Hirst went and bought it , and, duh, that thrust it into the category of Banksy's Warhol-style Kate Moss.
