Simple Diary

Jess and I perused the gift shop (ahem, exited through the gift shop) after spending some time at the Whitney Museum this afternoon, and came across a terrific surprise: Keel's Simple Diary. Jess, her mom (Coleen) and I quickly decided that we couldn't live without our own, and took home copies in royal blue, orange and yellow, respectively. (The diary's author--that's strange oxymoron--Philipp Keel, has a lot to say about why people choose the color that they do.) For each day, the Simple Diary asks you to chose from three descriptions that best complete the sentence, "Your day was (only chose one)." For example, a. a lettuce, b. an ostrich, or c. a bonus. You can see how this keeps things much more interesting than your typical diary. In the intro, Keel writes that "there are three reasons why most people, although they have tried, wont keep a diary: 1. Not every day is very eventful. 2. It actually takes a lot of discipline (regarding 1 even more so). 3. In retrospect, many find what they have written quite embarrassing." His version, as you will see below, has a completely different take on recording the day's events (not to mention a fantastically-creative use of adjectives). Sadly, tonight marked the end of Jess's NYC visit, so we've agreed to use the diaries as a way to stay connected. I'll do my best to post our entries here from time to time, for comparison, and with as little editing as I can manage. To kick off our little experiment, the three of us filled out our first pages tonight after dinner...

Lindsey

Jess

Coleen (aka Mama Petrey)

Brainwash

Mom,

I saw this movie last night: Exit Through The Gift Shop

Its all about street art (ahem, graffiti... stenciling... public/semi-illegal street installations, etc.) and one notoriously-anonymous artist, Banksy, in particular. I know the subject matter might not sound appealing to you at first, but I can assure you there's more depth here than it may seem. Its a great documentary about how urban street artists run around at night with buckets of glue, climbing billboards high above the city, searching for vacant lots and the "best walls" to display their work, why they do what they do and how the mainstream media/art world misconstrues the whole lot. Decide for yourself, but the film is basically a hoax based on two incredible street artists, Shepherd Fairey and Banksy, who turn the camera around on this documentary "filmmaker" (really, just a crazy French guy who loves videotaping everything around him). They encourage him as a pop/street artist and he gets all this media attention, then sells his (crap art) for millions of dollars.... Anyway, its super-entertaining and a provocative commentary on today's art culture. If you can find where its playing around you, GO SEE IT.

Most importantly, it will really inspire you to see everyday life as a canvas of possibility! Mmmmuuuuuaaa!



STREET AS GALLERY

Saturday

When I moved to New York back in December, there were some things that I had in mind. Namely, artsy parties, artsy men, more fashion than I could every get tired of (or afford), fanTAStic restaurants and dressing fabulously. I had reached a point in my life where the place that I lived no longer offered me the type of challenges or growth that I craved. I resigned to give up my comfortable one-bedroom apartment, my garden, and a three-block walk to a mountain park for any sign of, well... grass or privacy.

What I didn't have in mind were some of the unbelievable ways I would be pushed, the insecurities and temptations that would pull me or how quickly my energies would dissipate during the course of an exhausting move while recreating my social life from scratch. It seems obvious, but on top of everything, I can't seem to get it through my head that these things don't happen overnight. THe stakes are high, the expectations higher and my self-standards are through the roof.

In times like these, its no wonder that yoga makes me cry, restless nights leave my eyes bloodshot and that I don't feel quite like myself. In honor of clearing my mind and showing myself a little love this weekend, I've resigned to give myself a damn break. It's nothing but double cappuccinos, French photographer exhibits and brownies for breakfast --if that's what will make me happy.

Au revoir! That's all for now! Mmmmmuuuuuuaaaaaa!

Come To Mama