orange

Last weekend S picked out a new hat on our way to Christie's for the contemporary art auction preview. As soon as we arrived at the galleries we noticed that she coordinated with the Mark Rothko--so well, in fact, that she had to stand to one side so we could see the top of her head!

Then we noticed orange everywhere we looked.

She even coordinated with the noses of the dogs on stilts.

And the creepy tomato-head art. (Can you tell I'm not a fan of Paul McCarthy?)

No orange on this one, but it's one of my favorite pieces by Maurizio Catellan. The tiny elevators actually seem to work, much to the amusement of the two little girls in attendance.

just looking

Images that are inspiring me right now:

Irving Penn's Nurse, London, 1951: We've been reading the Mary Poppins books, and this photo reminds me of her starched, crackling aprons. This woman looks so feminine and elegant in her uniform.

Cecil Beaton's portrait of Gloria Guinness, circa 1970: Looks so refined, and her voluminous caftan emphasized her long neck.


Anything drawn or painted by Maira Kalman. Her show at The Jewish Museum is amazing.

weekend news

Every Friday S is given a small homework assignment for Kindergarten: weekend news. She's supposed to draw a picture and write a paragraph about something she does over the weekend and then read and present her news to the class on Monday. And every Sunday afternoon or evening we talk about all the things we did and try to help her decide which topic to write about.

I'm frequently surprised at what she chooses.

This evening she was tired and really didn't want to do her homework, so in an effort to excite her about the project I offered to do one myself. She gladly took me up on the idea and quickly generated worksheets for Todd and me to complete. So here is a summary of our weekend. She could have chosen any of the following activities:

1.
2. We had dinner (escargot for S: her favorite food) at a French restaurant in our neighborhood to celebrate the sale of the French rights to Little Things to Sew. It will be available en francais next fall. (Hurray!)

3.
(The big news here was the fact that S ate all her dinner. Todd is a great cook, too, but that's not news if you live at our house.)

4. We spent a little time admiring the Lod mosaic at the Metropolitan museum.

But with all those choices, here is what S chose to feature, instead:


"I had a tea party with my toys on Sunday. I had fun. And ice cream. It was fun for my toys too."

For the record, there is no ice cream at our house right now. So sweets weren't even part of the decision here.

in miniature

When Todd is doing preparation for a tour for the Whitney Museum he soaks up all sorts of details and lets the information marinate for a while. Occasionally a few juicy bits spill out, which inevitably makes me curious to see the show and to hear what he'll say about it. In the end, the most incredible tours usually emerge from the oven that is his brain.


This time, however, Todd couldn't wait to share the show. He knew Tsia and I would love it, and I think you will, too. (Unfortunately, the Whitney doesn't allow photography in the galleries, so I'll just have to tell you about it and show you some photos from the website. But you need to know up front that photos don't do this work justice.

Charles LeDray makes tiny things. I'm not going to attempt a proper art review because other people are much better at it and more erudite than I will ever be. But I can tell you that, from the perspective of someone who sews and who knows garment construction and pattern making really well, his work is incredible.

LeDray makes miniature clothing. Perfectly. And apparently he doesn't really talk about it. Todd recounted the curator walk-through he attended last week, and apparently when the curator asked the artist about his work the only real answer she got was "What do you think?" For example, the curator asked whether a tiny drawer in a tiny cobbler bench opens. The artist's reply: "What do you think?" Curator: "Are the laundry bags [I'll explain shortly] filled with clothing or just stuffing?" LeDray: "What do you think?"

This has, of course, become a running joke at our house. Here is a typical morning conversation:

Me: Tsia, did you brush your teeth?
Tsia: Hmmm, what do you think?
Todd: Tsia, where are your shoes?
Tsia: Hmmm, what do you think?

You get the picture.

So I really can't tell you much about the artist's process. Nor, I imagine, can many people. But I'm guessing that LeDray procures clothing and then takes it apart, paying particular attention to the construction of the garment. Then he probably makes a pattern from the disassembled garment, reduces the scale considerably (he says each item is "exactly the size it needs to be," and the pieces are each a different size but all seem to be smaller than 50% of the original garment), recuts the pattern, and assembles the garment exactly as the original was constructed. No kidding. I closely examined a miniature trench coat hanging from a miniature coat rack and could see that the edges of the inside facings were finished with Hong Kong binding, and the free-hanging lining was hemmed to exactly the right length.

Each piece also appears to be worn. I've got no idea how he does this. It's possible to "age" clothing artificially, like putting "whiskers" on bluejeans--you know, the white lines that result from wearing a pair of jeans for a long time? The aging on LeDray's miniature clothing is much more subtle and gives the appearance that a body actually occupied the garment and gave it a shape that contours the body.

Some of the miniature garments even have miniature garments attached to them. My favorite is a small wooden hanger with pants, shirt, jacket and tie. From each garment holes have been cut. If you look closely, you can see the hole in the front of the shirt that is a perfect extra-miniature shirt sleeve. An even smaller pants, shirt, jacket and tie, have been constructed from the missing pieces, and this extra-miniature clothing hangs from the first miniature. Both are impeccably detailed.

But the most mind-boggling part of the show is the last gallery, where he has constructed miniature scenes. Little clothing racks filled with shirts or jackets, tables stacked with old T-shirts or neckties on display, laundry bags and baskets overflowing (with perfectly made laundry, or did he give himself a break and stuff the bags with bunches of fabric? Please, Mr. LeDray, tell me it's just fabric or I'll faint from sheer exhaustion for you!). Each item was made by LeDray: the racks themselves, the stacks of clothing, the aged linoleum tiles, even the dropped ceilings with fluorescent lighting and the dust that lightly covers each item. Once you've seen the attention given to just one of these garments in the preceding galleries, the effect of all this together is simply overwhelming.

LeDray does all the work himself, and he is prolific. Not only does he meticulously construct all those tiny garments. He also makes hundreds of tiny ceramics and constructs miniature furniture out of human bones. I'll admit, the ceramics and the use of human bones left me a bit cold, but the garments more than made up for it. And the detail on the non-textile work is just as meticulous as the textile work, so the overall effect of the show is sublime. I don't use that word lightly.

Really. If you get a chance to see it, please do. I'm guessing you'll be stunned.


P.S. I was noting to Todd, as I was finishing this post, that most of LeDray's work features men's wear:

Todd: The men's clothing conceals smaller dresses and women's clothing.
Me: Is there a message in that?
Todd: What do you think?

And so it goes.

checking in

If you're wondering what's become of me, so am I. I walked into a meeting at S's new school (kindergarten, already) last week and was shocked to hear the Principal mention that it was the sixth week of school. Already? It felt like the third week to me. We're still adjusting to the schedule, our new commute, and a lot of projects and deadlines that keep popping up.

Just to get caught up and back into the swing of things, here's a list of random items:

Visiting: We took our bikes out to Governor's Island on the ferry a week or two ago and had a great time riding around. It's so odd to explore an island full of vacant buildings, so close to the city. Eerily beautiful, especially when it's threatening a storm.





Watching: I've been on a little kick, watching documentary and feature films about fashion designers: Valentino, Coco Before Chanel, and Yves Saint Laurent. Loved The September Issue. Have you seen it? Have I missed any? I'm anxiously awaiting Bill Cunningham New York, too.

Reading: I think I'll move on to something different than fashion once I've finished reading Coco Chanel. But in truth I'm just awaiting the final book in the Lytton family trilogy by Penny Vincenzi to arrive from the library. Good stuff.

Listening: Have you heard the most recent Radiolab yet? And here I thought we were being so environmental, living in New York. Turns out that's only part of the story.

Looking: The Abstract Expressionist New York show at MoMA is well worth a trip if you get a chance. The show draws from the museum's permanent collection, and it's both educational and fascinating.

Ok, back soon. I promise.

(Oh, and we're doing a giveaway at the Oliver + S blog to celebrate the release of our fabrics, fyi...)

guess where: #2

I promise I won't make a regular habit of this, but I was so amused that exactly three of you (ok, four now) lovely readers guessed at my previous "guess where" post that I thought we would do another one.

This photo hint will probably help for a few more of you:

P.S. Here is another hint (and an invitation, for those of you nearby who don't need any hints).

P.P.S. That previous photo was taken at my alma mater, Calvin College, outside the art department. Which was my old stomping ground and is, sadly, still located in a windowless basement. I mean, why should light matter when you're making art?

inspiration: Elegance

Of all the books on the shelves at the studio (pattern-making, sewing reference, grading techniques, etc.), this is the book I refer to most frequently. It's surprising, actually, since I don't think it's directly inspired anything I've designed. But I still come back to it regularly and will probably continue to refer to it over time.

The Seeberger brothers were among the world's very first fashion photographers, working from the early 1900's into the 1970's. They primarily photographed wealthy aristocrats at their places of leisure: the racecourse, beaches, and resorts. The photographs in this book were taken between 1909 and 1939, which was a spectacularly elegant era for fashion. Or at least I think so.

The personalities in the photos are almost as interesting as the fashions, and the photographs are exquisite. I finally dragged myself away from staring at the photos the other day and started reading the text, which is equally fascinating. But I love fashion history, so that's probably no great surprise.

Some of these fashions would look just as elegant today, I think.

art day

We had a marathon museum-going trip last Saturday. I wanted to visit the Neue Gallery for inspiration on a project, and Todd needed to prep his tour for the Whitney Biennial so we decided to make an adventure of the day and throw the Metropolitan Museum into the mix as well. All three museums are near each other on the upper east side, so it is actually logical (but still exhausting) to visit them all in one go. We took some photos in case you wanted to come along.

First up: the Metropolitan. We went primarily to see a couple of new shows there, but Tsia took photos of the permanent galleries. Art from the eyes of a five-year-old is always interesting (and a little blurry):











Then a stop for lunch at my favorite restaurant in the neighborhood, Cafe Sabarsky, which just happens to be located in the Neue Gallery building. If you go, the pickled herring sandwich with apple slices is amazing. Really, I should order other things on the menu sometimes, but I just love this one too much.

We sketched while we waited for our orders to arrive. Can you guess what this is?


Well, the chandelier, of course!


The current exhibit, Otto Dix, wasn't exactly what I was looking for, but here are some posters in the basement that caught my eye:




Then on our way down Madison Avenue Tsia had trouble choosing her favorite giant doughnut from the windows at Gagosian. Pink or sprinkles? I think we decided on the sprinkles:


Once we arrived at the Whitney, Tsia and I left Todd to his business and escaped to the fifth floor, where we found one of our favorite pieces by Lee Bontecou. I don't think we're allowed to take photos inside the museum. I always forget to ask but seem to recall being scolded for trying to photograph Todd while he was giving a tour once. And it's too bad, because this photo is really awful and doesn't begin to do the piece justice. Here is a photo of another Bontecou (at MoMA) so you can at least get a sense of her work and the dimension it has. Her work is often simultaneously creepy and enticing, which we all seem to love in our family. Here are Tsia's sketchbook renditions. (The first one was amazing until she started coloring it, but I was proud of myself for not intervening!):



Then home for a rest. Shall we take you to MoMA next time?