i'm outtie.

on to bigger and better: http://eringoldberger.tumblr.com/

Sensory nodes

Although the small boy in subway this morning screaming "I NEED TO SEE THE BENCH" over and over again was the best thing I've seen and heard this week, here are some other things that were pretty cool.



The Postelles at Bowery Electric. The Shangri-Las meets the Ramones meets Weezer meets something else entirely.




An Education

Olafur Eliasson at the Tanya Bonakdar Gallery. An adult fun house with beer.

Tim Robbins. Walking on West 15th and 6th. He is tall.

The Hurt Locker

Cynthia Rowley's show for Fashion Week. Models are silly.

Leo Fitzpatrick's show at Half Gallery. You remember him. Oh yea.

Oh and I ate too. V-Day Veselka with my old and moldy :). Goat cheese/Arugula perogie. Just like Babcia Dora....didn't make 'em.

Wooster Collective, I adore you too.

Feed your brain.

Monday Share (and one cool Pear)

 

Awesome new song by Gil Scott-Heron "New York is Killing Me"  

I've always been a fan of skulls. So skull painting turned skull photograph that isn't even a skull at all wins.

Jacek Yerka is a polish artist whom I found a long time ago and still go back to now and again. I'd also enjoy driving THAT car to THAT beach to then sit on THAT branch.

One cool pear.

When the stars make you drool

 

just like pasta fagioli....that's amore.

and now that V-day is over, February officially goes back to being the worst month. 12/12. bottom. shortest. woof. If February  was a kid who went to my middle school, no doubt, it would have said "Feb Sucks" in white out on the gym bleechers.  Good thing Johnny's bar is close by and warm, the two stools near the window are always free, and they don't mind you getting your skin grease all over their glass...in fact, they encourage it.

Nusch Eluard As The Queen of Clubs 

On a separate note, I went to the ICP this weekend and saw some great photos by Man Ray and André Kertész I hadn't seen before, among others. There were also these great collages by Ray that were pretty sweet. 

Then in the subway today, I saw a post-post-modern version of this....

I call it....Rupaul as DoubléChin

*thnx es for taking photos with your iphone when i ask you to :)

The Color of Water

Oh Dear Rare Book,

I only meet one of you every few years. I can't put you down. But I do, because I don't want to be done with you. Welcome to the club.

Love,
Erin

arts and farts and crafts

Because sometimes I like art. And sometimes I like to make fun of it. Especially when you go to an opening in Chelsea where the art looks like an Adderal filled 1st year architecture student's homework and there is no wine in site. So I made this collage. Dedicated to you, NY art scene, you bittersweet bastard.

the right tool

'nuff said

Things I'll never embrace

I just met you, but I hate you.

Just because you found another mid-western type lady with a K name, doesn't mean you can act like Kathy Lee was just a dream.
I'd rather suck down 2 gallons of Borscht than think of YOU, hot cocoa!


The 411 lady now is just a robot. I used to look forward to not only getting someone's phone number, but having a brief yet important connection to a stranger as a young girl.

Monday Share (and one cool Pear)

Ohhh, if I had seen this five minutes earlier, or ten minutes later, I might have HATED this. But nope, I love it and need it. I could even fool a small child into thinking it's a first edition of some rare book found only at the British Museum.

Corny and truthful...my two favorite things in one socially relevant comic.

Sweet designs by JHill . Couldn't wait to see the NJ state design. No NJ design.

Polaroid app on iPhone. You even have to shake it to see the image. iPhones to me are like grandchildren to grandparents. You get to play with them and download crazy shit and feed them lots of chocolate and then they go home. And there are no more diapers and no more high phone bills. Sigh. My poor lime green chocolate LG had his 15 minutes and now he may as well fall into a pile of Kate Spade backpacks and BabyG's and take one last look around.

one cool pear.

Snookie in her Rose Period?

I am not embarrassed to discuss my curiosity and slight obsession with The Jersey Shore show. Maybe it's because it's where I, as a post-prom attendee went for a long, fuzzy weekend back in 2004. No amount of denial can make me forget my love for Dep Gel and name necklaces. The higher the number Dep, the more serious you are. Regardless, I wanted to show my appreciation in a creative and unique way. In true Picasso form, I call it, Snookie in her Rose Period. I either will continue this project until I have the entire cast completed, or I will ignore this post and pretend I never gave so much time and consideration to a show that has killed more brain cells than an entire year of college.

What is Progress?

Tino Sehgal at the Guggenheim. Instead of questioning art, I questioned myself, which in a museum setting, can be quite complicated. Similar to this picture, two people can be found making sweet fake love in the circular rotunda floor of the Guggenheim. I watched for long enough to know there was no pattern, just them, in unison, rolling around together. It's like the two people that stand outside the 14th Street F station. One tries to give you the metro, the other the AM, but they don't compete. In some Wes Anderson movie they'd probably fall in love, or find out they were siblings, or both.

Still Bill meets Salinger

Still Bill Trailer from B-Side Entertainment on Vimeo.

"Not everything is gonna make your socks roll up and down," Bill Withers told me and approximately 50 other people last night at the IFC after a viewing of the documentary about the "Ain't No Sunshine" man, called Still Bill. Most people don't know Bill by name; just by the music he wrote and sang. Probably because not only did he not really dig the spotlight all that much, but he hasn't released anything since 1985. So, as I was taking my first few breaths, Bill's musical career was taken its last.

That's not to say he isn't still producing anything. Bill calls on his "old friend fear" for one of the reasons he hasn't made anything new. And in the aftermath of seeing this documentary, and with JD Salinger's death today, I have to ask...is this what made Salinger hide in Cornish NH this whole time too? Or was it just to create romantic myths to liberal arts English majors everywhere about him and his shot gun and his reclusive rocking chair life?

Regardless, what do you do when you've created a masterpiece? Where do you go from there? After you write Ain't No Sunshine or Catcher in the Rye, and it's received as well as they were, what's the next step? Do you feel pride or just like a big..fat..phony?

All I know is whoever now owns the rights to JD's stuff better be smart about it. You know Hollywood already has 5 sunglassed douchebags pulling up to Cornish. They've been waiting.

Juliet, Naked

High Fidelity is in my top five movies. I think this scene alone made me fall in love and never look back. So when I saw Nick Hornby had a new novel out, I picked it up right away. And...5 months later, I finished it. Half the time I imagined a slightly older and unshaven John Cusack narrating it. Maybe because the main plot revolves around a musician, or maybe because Hornby continueously has that same mocking-bemoaning yourself thing going on in all of his books. Regardless, I enjoyed it, and was kind of disheartened when I looked up some reviews today and saw mostly Spark-note critiques that involved the plot summary and not much more. I was hoping to read more about Hornby, rather than the book I had just finished. He's developed some sort of pattern at this point, and I guess I had assumed the NYTimes had some expert that could tell me more about that. Maybe I just naively expected Hornby to write his own review.

Word Art

I recently stared at a Mel Bochner piece I had never seen before for awhile last week. As much as I gave the Kraus Campo crap when I was at CMU, there is something about an artistic venture that involves words that makes me happy. Maybe it stems with my fascination of quotations. I used to look up quotes to every movie I saw and highlight the best lines of books, type them up and print them out. So, when I see actual made-by-their-hands street art with words, my heart aches. My favorite of all time was in an alley in Pittsburgh that read, "Graffiti is Watching You." I never got a photo of it, after all the times I walked by there. But after a recent trip to NOLA, and finding an especially great quote written on a wall (see photo on left), my dormant passion for this specific graffiti motivated me to go into my photo archives and pull a few others out.

"If you want sympathy, you'll find it between shit n syphillis in the dictionary"

I'm not sure whether it's the harsh quote itself, the fantastical ideas I have about the person who wrote it, the pete sticker or cougar paw, probably there much before, or the great shadow dragging across it; but I love it dearly.




Past CEO's Sleep on Park Benches, Lawrenceville, Pittsburgh, PA



















Love Notes on a Cactus, Agrigento, Sicilia, Italy









Being in love is the most glorious two and a half
days of your life, Strip District, Pittsburgh, PA














La belleza es tu cabez, (the beauty is your head) Roma, Italy

Sixty40

TV1: Beach from sixty40 on Vimeo.

Loving the Sixty40 studio and all they do. Reminds me of when my good friend Rachel used to make her Pepperidge Farm Goldfish duke it out.

Primero

It took some time and coaxing but I am finally attempting the blog. I will try to avoid telling you what I ate for breakfast, and focus more on things that I see and learn that are neat and funky. Maybe I'll share some of my own writing and photography as well. Warning: Some days I am creative and witty; other days I am sordid and sour. Enjoy both!

-E

First suggestion: Check out 'Its Nice That.' Specifically a zine they just published titled "If Drawings were Photographs."