For those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile, these to do lists won’t come as any surprise. I just came back from a short family visit in France, and my brother handed me these pages…the latest installment to his growing oeuvre. However, for those of you who are new to Mrs. Easton, please don’t worry. He’s fine. Maybe a little busy. He and his partner run an unusual luxury travel business. Apparently, the devil truly is in the details. For the entire collection so far, go here.
How many caps does a single household possess? As a partial answer to that question, I did a quick sweep of our apt, and the above inventory is what I found. I barely touched the fridge, my art supplies or the spice cupboard. Didn’t even open the liquor cabinet. And I excluded most duplicates. Total number of caps: 98. Fascinated by the notion of an industry which is built upon the production of a single item in all of its iterations.
I have a librarian friend, whom I will not name. He/she occasionally gives me books that he/she finds in the trash bin or at the various book sales that are held to liquidate unwanted reading material. This image is of the inside cover of a small pamphlet which explains, in clear terms, why premarital “relations” are a bad idea. I think this was in the garbage. Why it was taken off the shelves remains a mystery. I would have thought it would be a welcome addition to the Western literary canon.
For some it’s shoes. For others it’s bags. While I have an affinity for both, my real weakness is the label. Plain and simple. Always has been. Always will be. See here. My friend Craig gave me this roll that she found in her parents’ home. She knows me well. And yes, Craig is a woman.
If Werner Herzog‘s rhythmic phrasing and distinctive lilt aren’t enough to get you to see this movie, than maybe the story is: it’s a sparse portrait of three men — though mainly of Gennady Soloviev, who wins my heart — making a life for themselves and their families in the Siberian Taiga. A large portion of the year is spent completely alone (except for the company of their dogs) in the wilderness, maintaining their huts and trapping sable. The movie was marshaled out of Dmitry Vasyukov’s four hour documentary originally made for Russian television. In a reversal for Herzog, the main characters are self-possessed, and at one with nature, instead of being on the edge of insanity and at war with the elements. Whatever you may feel about the killing of animals (note, there is no gore depicted), I cannot recommend this film enough. It is a mesmerizing snapshot of a people who are largely self-reliant and almost completely off the grid. Pay especially close attention to the woodworking!
Oh, and if you are looking for a related “truth is stranger than fiction” read, go here.
Um, no thanks.
Grand Street, in Chinatown.
I love NYC.
This is one of the very few things that I kept from my mother’s house. Most of the photos I have posted from there are just that, photos. This little gouache is one of the exceptions. If ever there were an argument for doing a rendering by hand, this would be it.