Tag Archives: art

I had some fun with my nails

Before my parents most recent visit, I went to the nail salon with a picture in my phone.

nails painting


I took a photo of a painting by my late paternal grandmother to the nail salon and told my favorite technician Joey “anything inspired by this will be wonderful.” She far exceeded my expectations and when my father saw her work, he seemed touched.

Ignore my cuticles. Joey does the best she can with what I give her!

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The funniest thing I have seen all week

I get a gazillion emails per week from Fab.com. That may be an exaggeration but not by much.

A project I work on periodically does Fab sales so I feel a need to keep up with what they’re selling.

When I received an email about Male Landscapes and Andy Warhol, I had a giggling fit. I couldn’t tell you why.

The pictures made matters worse:


Maybe it was thoughts of modern manscaping and wondering what ol’ Andy would think of that trend if he were alive today.

The sale ends on June 22 so as a parting gift, I’m giving you some NSFW screen shots below just in case you don’t check out the sale in time.

Last warning: wieners involved.

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Art? Oh.

Call me clueless about art. A heathen.

But I wouldn’t want this painting on any of my walls, not even a bathroom wall.

I imagine the teenage boy who lives in the house either has a lot of fun with the painting when friends visit or cringes for the first hour.

George Condo, you must be a fascinating man.


On Williamsburg

Did you know that I almost moved to my current neighborhood once before? Yep, during Chicklette in New York version 1.0.

1999 to be exact.

Unlike me, Christopher Bollen actually did so. His essay in the Paris Review had me transfixed.

An excerpt:

#5A was mine for exactly four years, and that time did not magically evaporate in the expected dissolve of entering a revolving door and stepping out of it older, wiser. It was more like entering a revolving door and, by some failure of equipment, being stuck between two segments of glass, a perfect specimen of a confused young man who couldn’t go forward or back.

I decided I wasn’t ready to be a pioneer. Williamsburg was artsy. I’d have liked to have been artsy, but I wasn’t. I was (am?) corporate.

Circa 1998

Instead I got a place in Greenwich Village. No regrets. Those were fun times.