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This season’s style inspiration=dressing like twins=awesome!

(photo Andrew Elliott)

“Couples Always Match II, 2009”

(photo Colin Dodgson)

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Guest Blogger: Colin Dodgson

“These photographs were taken on a family trip to England in a car from Heathrow airport down to Somerset where my dad’s half of the family still lives.  On the plane from California, he took an ambien and drank a guinness just to make sure he’d sleep throught he entire flight.  He was still a little groggy in the car and he sorta passed out for a while.  He’s the worst snore-er ever and if anyone snores around me, its like fingernails on a chalkboard.  Anyways, hes great.  Hes a huge inspiration for a lot of my work.” -Colin Dodgson

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Guest Blogger: Remy Holwick

You called…

Remy Holwick

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64 Plays

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Alan Markley is the lead singer of Modern Medical Miracle, a wonderful Brooklyn band that lent Interview New York their song for this promo (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjozQxrjqTg) we made a month ago. When we finally got down to telling our lawyers about the collaboration they sent of a full page of legal jargon to make the thing official. Alan, artistic soul that he is, got our email that mistakenly asked him to “sing” rather than “sign” the agreement and did just that. Listen and dance to the law!

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Funny & Interesting People: Remy Holwick

(Painting by Remy)

Remy Holwick (www.remyholwick.com) is an artist, designer, muse and mother living and working in Los Angeles. Last time we met up she was entangled in literally dozens of projects as both muse —see buff monster photo or go to www.vanarno.com where she is in “saint baklavia’s halo of bees”— and artist— painting, drawing, designing, creating. Her background is, not surprisingly, just as diverse. Remy grew up in Hawaii where she learned how to

dance the hula as part of the required public school curriculum. She has supported herself with jobs as unusual as porn store attendant to, after attending Reed College, supermodel. Now, still in her early twenties, Remy is managing a successful art and design career and a bubbly baby boy, John Henry Holwick. So without further ado, meet Remy!

(Photo of Remy by http://www.buffmonster.com/)

Cameron: What are you up to?

Remy: Launching my new clothing line, Beg Borrow Steal, this June at Urban Outfitters. Actually I’m answering these questions from the Joshua Tree Inn, where we’re shooting photographs for the campaign. I’m  also working on launching a second line of clothing featuring the work of my amazingly talented artist friends… once those launch, I think I’ll be heading into the studio for a while. I’d like to finally do a solo show somewhere in Los Angeles. I was, for a long time, afraid of the idea because my dad did it, and it was so important to maintain my own identity that I shunned the part of myself that wanted what he had. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that it is possible to be a part of my family, and honor and acknowledge the work my parents did, and still be my own person.

Cameron: Your dad (Wayne Holwick) was an artist, how did his work influence yours?

Remy: Being born into a house of artists meant that art was something we lived: it was never a choice, or something to just try as a hobby, or even something that was just a career. I have very clear memories of being young and building towers out of these big moldy volumes of the works of Picasso and Rembrandt, and “the book of the world’s most beautiful paintings”.

(Wayne Holwick next to Hart St. Girl)

When I was six I knew that my favorite painting was Matisse’s goldfish, and I was aware of the problem with defining “art” at a ridiculously young age. Having this particular perspective as a young child definitely affects the way I look at art as an adult.

(Matisse’s Goldfish)

As I’ve gotten older, I have developed a tremendous respect for the trajectory my dad’s work took; he started as a street artist in the late 1960s, and then became a very good photo-realist in the early 70’s— that work provided a good demonstration of his ability as a draftsman and technical painter. Later, he moved away from photo-realism and his work became radically different. He began painting huge canvases, eight and ten feet each, with surreal scenes rendered with charcoal and oil in this remarkable, sketchy, dreamlike way, sometimes with very controversial subject matter. It is a very brave thing, to me, to move away from a style that so clearly demonstrates your talent and workmanship, and ask your audience to trust you as you interpret the world for them in a style that is less obviously, technically impressive and much more introspective and personal. The fact that he succeeded in a critically successful way impresses and inspires me even more. The LA times critic at the time, Henry Seldis, had very high praise for his late work. I can’t imagine asking someone like that to take a leap of faith with me. I am not that brave yet. I hope that one day I will be.

Cameron: You’ve done so many very different jobs, how has each one left it’s mark? Are there any you ever wish you still did?

Remy: I come from a very bohemian background. My mother moved us to Hawaii when I was six, and times were often pretty tight. I worked since I was 13, first as a tour guide for Japanese teenagers, then in an independent record store called “requests”. It’s still there, and I still occasionally pull shifts when I’m on island. I was so profoundly shaped by working there; my boss, Vince, collected silkscreen rock posters, everything from family dog and mouse and kelly in the 60s to coop in the 90s. I wanted to learn to do work like that. I think it still shows in my work. And I met coop two years ago. I tried to play cool but I was secretly jumping up and down on the inside— one of the only artists I’ve ever met that I had an honest to god “fanboy” reaction to.

(Painting: Wayne Holwick, “On the beach”)

In college I worked in the mail-room, and learned that I couldn’t work sorting paper all day and then go home and work with paper, because it made my fingers hurt. I moved to the

costume shop, and learned clothing construction. At that time, I also worked in a porn store and learned what I NEVER wanted to do with my life. I left the porn store and took off on a circus-juggling tour of the nation (I used to be a pretty good contact juggler), and kept that up for a couple years. I really loved that life. It taught me how to be more independent, and that I could do something creative that made people happy. That was a major revelation. I only quit when I was offered a modelling contract in New York, and I miss that life, too. I learned SO much traveling as a model. I learned a lot about fashion, but more than that, I learned about being honest with myself about my priorities— when you’re always on the go and living out of a bag, and far away from the people you care about, you spend a lot of time with yourself thinking. Also during that time, I learned all the poise I have today from my agent, Neal Hamil. He taught me how to act like an adult. It’s maybe the single most important lesson I learned while modelling, and it is one that I will NEVER EVER forget.

(Above: Remy contact juggling and in CK jeans ad)

I came to LA 5 years ago, when I needed a break from that work.  I thought it would be a two week break… but things rarely go as planned.  I started working here as a fashion designer, and finally got a chance to really do the artwork that I had been wanting to do while I was modelling.  I started writing and drawing comics.  I started a personal blog  Everything snowballed like that, and now my whole life is a big amalgamation of all of those elements.  I am a project-oriented artist.  I am not someone that will ever be “the girl who paints those doe-eyed cartoon graffiti women” or “that realist painter”.  I take on artistic projects and roles and explore them, see how they relate to me and my life.  I’ve also been an occasional art model on the lowbrow and fine art scene in LA— I’ve sat nude for some pretty risque work— and I feel like seeing how I appear to those artists also contributes to this general mission of taking on projects and exploring my sense of self through them.

(Remy and Rocky)

Cameron:  After going through so many incarnations to get where you are today what advice would you give to young artists about how to achieve their goals and do their work? Do you need to be floating out in the world for a bit before finding success? What advice will you give your son about finding a career?

(Cartoon, Painting, and Drawing by Remy)

Remy: My mother tells me occasionally when I show her my work that her best friend, Rocky, used to call us all “the real deal” because we lived the things that mattered to us, and it showed through in our day-to-day actions. She tells me that this applies to my work, and I couldn’t say it better. Art has to be “about” something, and I think that the more you can work around the things you understand in life, the more clearly your work will reflect and communicate that understanding, so I think it is crucial that artists live the life they want to communicate as fully as they can—I think my work is best when it is honest to the life that I’ve lived, and I think/hope/pray that if it resonates with people, it’s because they can feel that it is the “real deal”.

As far as advice for my son, I tell him daily that I hope he grows up to be exactly what he wants to, because I think that that is one of the most difficult and rewarding things to be. So often we end up making compromises because they are easy or safe. I am a big believer in making the decisions that are responsible to the highest form of the person you aspire to be. Sometimes that involves compromise, but that compromise doesn’t always have to come in the form of giving up your dream of being a rock star so that you might raise a baby and work in an office.

Cameron: What is your dream project?
Remy: I have several. Because I work so often in fashion, I’d love to be part of the high fashion world’s recent concern with art. In my dream world, it would be with either Prada’s art foundation, or the Chanel brand, because they do so much with the arts as well, or something in collaboration with the YSL brand. Monseiur St Laurent was an art collector and is an icon. So many of his collections referenced art, and they were all genius. I have a picture of him taped to my fridge. At one point I got his blond floppy haircut to go with my huge black glasses, just to make myself smile when I got up in the morning and looked in the mirror. It definitely made me laugh.
I’d also like to write a longer form graphic novel at some point, but that’s far off in the future…

Cameron: Whose work inspires you? (Authors/Artists etc.)
Remy: That’s a long list. In high school, I was inspired by works of art. I loved paul pope’s comics, Matisse’s paintings, schile’s drawings.

(Cartoon by Paul Pope)

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v684/Robet/PaulPope--napoleon.jpg

Now I am surrounded by artists and I am inspired by the processes and work ethics of my amazing friends— Gary Baseman, who I work with as much as I can because of his amazing drive and positive energy, korin faught and natalia fabia, who sit up painting for days at a time, Van Arno, kukula, who believes so resolutely in what she is doing and has taken so many risks to get where she is. Also R. Kikuo Johnson, because we grew up together and I think his work has inspired me on more levels and for longer than maybe anyone but my father.
http://www.sci-fi-o-rama.com/wp-content/standardstation.jpg

(Ed Ruscha, Standard Station)

I still also have my heroes. Like I said, St Laurent always, Ed Ruscha, whose work I admire endlessly, Vermeer, because I have had it hard wired into me to love him, and my amazing parents, because of the incredible drive each of them had to do what mattered most and never be content to settle to live ordinary lives.

Thanks Remy!

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Take note: Index of the Ordinary

Today is finally the launch of the much anticipated Index of the Ordinary (http://indexoftheordinary.com). Photographer Andrew Elliott gives his audience alphabitzed poetry. Search “cat” or “cow” or “crossing” and find something lyrical. The quiet grace of the photographs creates the perfect contrast between calm and common, and startling and beautiful. Below are photographs from the site and a short interview with Andrew.







Cameron: What was your first job taking photos?
Andrew: My first job was photographing couples imitating the “Jack I”m flying” scene from the Titanic. It was against an ocean backdrop in a huge titanic themed restaurant with 2 levels and an actual life raft in it. I was 21.

Cameron: Whose work inspires you? (Authors/Artists etc.)
Andrew: Jonathan Lethem (www.jonathanlethem.com) , Tibor Kalman (on wikipedia), Gerhard Richter (gerhard-richter.com), Wolfgang Tillmans (tillmans.co.uk), Bruce Davidson (davidson photography), Shomei Tomatsu (on wikipedia), Martin Parr (martinparr.com), Jonas Bendiksen (jonasbendiksen.com), Robin Schwartz (robinschwartz.net), Josef Koudelka (at magnum), Kurt Vonnegut (vonnegut.com), Eikoh Hosoe (on wikipedia), Sonic Youth (sonicyouth.com), Taryn Simon (tarynsimon.com)…

Cameron: Any favorite searches we should do when we get to the index?
Andrew: Photography, suburbs, donkey.

Thanks Andrew and best of luck on your new website!

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Funny & Interesting People Part 1: Wesley Morgan on spending the summer in Iraq and what war sounds like.


I have asked Wesley Morgan, sophomore at Princeton, to write us a guest blog entry. Below is a brief interview with him, and then his essay. Why Wesley? Well, he is a generally fascinating kid who spent part of the summer in Iraq with the US military’s top dog General Patraeus.

Cameron: You had a pretty amazing summer. Tell me what you did.
Wesley: After my freshman year at Princeton ended in June I went to Iraq for the summer as a reporter.
C: That’s very brave of you, or crazy. What inspired you to go?
W: I’ve been interested in counterinsurgency for most of my life.
C: Not many people can say that, especially not many twenty year olds.
W: I’m one of the lucky few then. Anyhow, about a year ago, I interviewed Gen. David Petraeus for my school newspaper, the Daily Princetonian. [Petraeus is an alum.] He liked my questions. And when he found out that I’m also an Army ROTC cadet, he stayed in touch.
C: Are we talking about General Petraeus, the guy that the New York Times is always talking about? The guy in charge in Iraq?
W: Yeah, that’s the one. Last winter, after he took command of U.S. forces in Iraq, Gen. Petraeus suggested that I come to Iraq for the summer, and I of course jumped at the chance. My search for funding for the trip led me to Bill Roggio, a conservative blogger and embed who generously backed my project and helped me get credentialed as an embedded journalist. So, after working at a DC think tank for the first half of the summer, I flew into Kuwait in late July for what ended up being a pretty phenomenal trip.
C: And you wrote all about your experience, right?
W: I’ve written a lot about the military details and lessons learned from the trip at my own blog.
C: Tell me a little about what you learned and the piece you wrote for me.
W: Well Iraq is a fascinating place, so completely different from the States or any other country I’ve ever visited that I hardly know where to start – going chronologically or even just describing incidents that happened seems like it wouldn’t convey what the country and the soldiers are like. Since the last few days on my trip I’ve been thinking about how to write about Iraq through a different lens, one that would seem kind of out of place on my own blog maybe, but that would convey a sense of the place. Since you’re so artsy and original I think this blog is the place for it.
C: I’m flattered! Thanks for talking to me.
W: No problem. Thank you.

Here is the essay Wesley wrote for Funny and Interesting:

How I will remember Iraq

Before I left for Iraq, a soldier I know told me to choose carefully what book I brought along, because I’d always remember that as what I was reading when I first saw a war zone. I reread bits and pieces of Gen. Petraeus’s and Gen. Mattis’s counterinsurgency field manual while I was over there, and I did finish Harry Potter, but there really wasn’t a lot of time for reading (except the endless hours of waiting for flights, which I think are better spent talking to soldiers). There are movies and TV shows playing in every waiting area or lounge and on every forward operating base, but more often than not those just seem jarring and weird – watching episodes of Alias while waiting in a cavernous hanger, for instance, or a pirated copy of Transformers in the basement of a combat outpost between patrols, seemed strange and out of place, and not something that will stick with me as symbolic of the experience. What I will remember is the music I listened to here, and probably always associate a few songs with the experience.

A few months back, Tom Ricks wrote about soldiers’ music in a short piece in the Washington Post, and one the songs he mentioned I actually did hear a bunch of times. You know that song “America, Fuck Yeah!” from Team America: World Police, I’m not sure exactly how many times, but I heard soldiers playing that before or after patrols, either on speakers or once when a soldier gave me one of his iPod’s earbuds. Also, I probably played the “Army Strong” music from Army recruiting ads (yes, I do have it) a hundred times because I listen to it when I need to stay awake and write, which was all the time in Iraq, and it was also the background music to a slideshow that an infantry unit called the Black Lions was working on while I was with them. Those are both very hooah, Army songs, even though the Team America one is obviously tongue-in-cheek, and I heard them a lot, but even they don’t really seem like Iraq to me. They seem superficial somehow, and when I think back over the sounds I associate with the trip, they’re really not the first things that come up. Instead, two other, much more random songs do.

The first is a song called “Older” by Colbie Caillat, some new singer I know nothing about, which I got from the iTunes “new music” thing right before I left and which somehow copied itself into my computer three times, meaning that it is constantly coming up on shuffle. That song is completely un-Iraq-like – as one soldier told me with a combination of disgust and confusion when he saw it playing, “I can’t believe you’re listening to that queer-ass shit again,” which is a fair description, at least in Army vocabulary. But I heard it so many times while writing or updating maps and data that it was stuck in my head for a good week in Baghdad, and sort of still is. That might make for weird memories – associating a sappy, incomprehensible pop song with the sights and smells of Baghdad – but it’s true. I wonder whether that association will stick.

Most of all, though, the music that says “Iraq 2007” to me is “Mad World” by Gary Jules (I had to look up the name). It starts, “All around me are familiar faces, worn out places,” and you might know it from the movie “Donnie Darko.” When I first heard it in Baghdad, it took me a good hour to realize that that’s where I recognized it from. Anyway, sometime in my second week in Iraq, a Spanish journalist named David Beriain showed me a phenomenally powerful slideshow of his time with the 1-4 Cav in Dora, with that song in the background, and it has stuck like epoxy.

I’ve been back for two weeks now, and I still play that song whenever I’m writing about Iraq, because it brings back a vividness to the experiences and recollections like nothing else. I’d probably only heard it once or twice before I got here, but now it won’t go away. In Iraq, it was my brain’s default background noise whenever I spaced out from tiredness or was just trying to piece together everything I’d seen, heard, and smelled on a given day. When my mind went blank staring out the window of a Black Hawk, or sitting in the sweaty hold of a Stryker, I heard that song. When I sat down to write on military computers and didn’t have my own music, I heard it the whole time. It was running through my blank mind the first time my vehicle was ever shot at, and again the last time.

Two weeks ago, on the flight out of Kuwait, as I drifted in and out of consciousness while trying to run through the five weeks in Iraq in my mind, that song was just there, in the background, playing over a fuzzy mental montage of carbine-toting, grey-clad soldiers, crowds of hostile Shia pilgrims, an Iraqi cop with shattered and bloody legs, alert officers at intelligence briefings, frightened prisoners, and colorful reporters. The hundreds of new military and civilian faces I saw in Iraq, the least familiar environment I’ve ever been in, were anything but familiar, but when my mind was drifting sleepily back over all those faces on the plane ride – and now when I try to write about it – that was what I heard.

There’s something about that song. Maybe that’s why David chose it for his tribute to the cav soldiers he knew in Dora. Capt. Grim and the snipers on Haifa Street, the hateful glares of the Sadrist marchers, Gen. Petraeus with his intense energy and endless questions, the eccentric interpreters, the brilliant Lt. Col. Peterson, the journalists I met, the black-robed expressionless women, the quietly weeping sergeants at the Stryker memorial service, Lt. Col. Frank and his infantrymen, the soldiers from Southie in that Manchu infantry platoon, the blindfolded Mahdi Army detainees at a south Baghdad outpost, the eerie green drone feed of insurgents being reduced to chunks of meat by an Apache, the Sadrist intelligence source coldly giving us targeting intel on dozens of his comrades for a stack of cash, the Iraqi policeman washing the blood from his hands at Kalsu, the pride in the eyes of the Black Lions. All of those are, in a way, even if I saw them only once, familiar faces, faces I doubt I’ll completely forget, ever.

The Mad World Video—


Some of Wesley’s Photos—



To read more about Wesley’s experiences go to his blog.

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