we are aching to see a number of films out there. wishing we were at cannes for a few things, but more importantly…
1. the all tomorrow’s parties movie, which is playing this week at the seattle film festival and I am hoping to be there. or at one of their screenings soon. I found out about this one too late — I would have been able to offer up a few photographic images from the bowlie weekender (and a few others) — I was in the rockstar chalets so I have some good ones of what rock stars look like before coffee (yikes!)! I am hoping I don’t see myself in the film itself, but I do remember people standing around with cameras while I was shooting the shit with cornelius and duglas bmx bandit out in the quad. I have been told that I am in a barbican crowd shot of the new vashti bunyan doc, which I also cannot wait to see. and it may go without saying that I am crushed that I still have not seen paul kelly’s new doc, take three girls: the dolly mixture story. paul, where’s my dvd!?
2. food inc. is a movie that I hope will become a blockbuster success like an inconvenient truth. I have never been able to understand in this country why we have to pay more money for food that is not hosed down with toxins, carcinogens, pesticides, etc. that makes no sense!
3. handmade nation is another one I want to see — evidence of small things changing the world.
4. our pal gary hustwit has made objectified, the follow-up to his helvetica and we’re there as soon as we’re in the same town as jet-setting gary, who runs indie film dvd label plexi btw.
5. this film, the story of stuff is enough to put you in the mood for spring cleaning and the avoidance of buying any more cheap tat. you can watch it all here on the site. please forward!
if you google the vinyl countdown, you will find many comical links to bad christian rock or other silly stuff. when my pal travis elborough wrote a book called the longplayer goodbye, I don’t think he envisioned a version in the U.S. to be called the vinyl countdown, but in this economic climate, anyone with a book deal is a lucky duck. anyway, travis is awesome and you should read our interview with him on chickfactor and buy his new book from powells! I mean, if you haven’t already. and I know many of you have.
why can’t I just *be* dovima? (um, she’s the one on the left.) we would like to be at the avedon show at the international center of photography this week — it’s been open for ten days or so. we are not in new york but luckily it’s on till sept 6 so we will be seeing it. safe to say mr avedon is one of my idols, along with madame yevonde, man ray, lartigue, atget, etc. etc.
photograph: Dovima with Sacha, cloche and suit by Balenciaga, Café des Deux Magots, Paris, August 1955. copyright Richard Avedon, of course.
and speaking of the new yorker, here’s something from chris ware. sad and beautiful. beautiful and sad. when we first met him he wasn’t using computers but he must be now, yes? I love his people with peanut shaped heads.
this piece in harpers leads you to dick cheney’s daughter on cnn and even though my blood boils whenever I think of the fact that old man dick can sleep at night despite having caused so many deaths and run the world’s economy into the toilet, I can’t help feeling how awful awful awful it must be to be dick cheney’s daughter. awful.
someday some big fancy book publisher will come to their senses and sign me up to do a series of gorgeous coffee table books featuring my stunning (if I do say so) photos of the titans of the underground. I realize it’s probably not going to happen this year but maybe sometime… meanwhile, here is my flickr page, where I’ve been uploading a lot of stuff that is on my hard drive. I have an archive of zillions of never-seen things and I promise to put those up one of these days too.
photograph: annabel wright, new york, 1997. copyright gail o’hara
does anyone know simon fuller? I think he needs to audition me, yes me, to be the new simon cowell. I refuse to wear fake tan in a ghastly shade of oompa-loompa orange. I refuse to wear v-neck t-shirts and tight, high-waisted acid-wash jeans. and it’s best if I don’t try speaking in a british accent, though I’m happy to toss in a few britishisms, such as “chuffed” and “faff” and “rubbish” if need be. oh please simon fuller, I am what you are looking for. I am your new…. miss nasty. since the london times once called me the “hottest pop writer in the U.S.” or something, I believe I am also highly qualified. (okay, so if any of you know simon fuller, please please please get me an audition…)
the name TVPs came up last night when I was out at the local 506 watching the pains of being pure at heart. I had moments where I thought about other important original indie bands such as the pale saints (pre-the girl frontman, of course) and the sea urchins. so it’s funny to see this article about dan treacy in today’s guardian written by alan mcgee. I have nothing but love for the TVPs — never forget the first time I saw em about a decade after alan did — at the silly old hippie-fied wetlands during some sad music con or other. I met daniel t shortly after that at maxwells with jowe head and barbara manning. a decade or so later, chickfactor was proud to host the TVPs playing their first show in 8 years — at bush hall in london as part of our lovely gala papillons festival in ’04. I was a little disheartened when they disrespected bridget st. john and kind of imposed their posse on the whole event, but in truth it wasn’t daniel treacy who literally pissed in all the bottles and the tea kettle and spray-painted ‘TVPs were here’ or some shit all over the backstage of the beautiful bush hall venue. how very “punk” — please. it was some other idiot member in their vast entourage (not victoria or ed ball). I wonder what that dork was rebelling against — the fact that we rented and procured all the instruments they required (including drums, which no one else needed) and offered them a guarantee? the fact that we gave them and all their friends free passes for the whole weekend and bought them drinks (trust me, there isn’t enough alcohol in the world to satiate that lot)?