Noguchi

Went exploring today. Might head up to SF this weekend for more. In the meantime, here's a statement/question: For those of you already living in California, count your blessings. And for those of you who don't live here, why not?

Can't think of any valid reasons, really. This place rules. 

Outta Dodge

Black Friday.

We could have raised our weary heads at 4am to join the other crazies in line at Target, hellbent on doorbuster deals and 2-for-1 socks. We could have hibernated in Long Beach, nursing our tryptophan hangovers with more food and old episodes of 30 Rock. We could have stayed in bed till 2pm or watched a movie or spent a catatonic day in front of Netflix. We could have done all those things. 

But where's the fun in that? 

Black Friday

"Oh darling, when it's you I see in headlights, driving down the golden highway 

And salvation in the beauty of some brakes,

And the deer is gone without me to the valley of surrender

There is still another world along it's tracks."

- Tallest Man On Earth

For You, Blue VOL. III

For the past four years or so, I've spent the beginning of November compiling Christmas music from sources near and far. The instances of discovering festering piles of poo (albeit festooned with a bright red bow, which separates it from your pedestrian, every day musical poo) are aplenty, so it's not unlike taking your hound for a walk armed with a pocketful of plastic bags. It's not a question of whether or not your pooch will pop a squat, but when. And where. And how many times. So it goes with finding Christmas music that doesn't totally suck. For every hidden gem that contains either a modicum of sincerity, poignance, or at the very least, nostalgia, one must thrust one's arms to the elbow in a fetid pile of fussily overwrought steamers, musically messy and meaningfully malnourished. 

But see, I do it for you. I suffer through the dolefully ornate stinkers, I sift through the layers of stuffy self-importance, I cringe at the schmaltzy vocal tinsel draped flaccidly over a familiar melody. I do all of this because there are certain finds that make the search worthwhile. And every year, I compile the best of the best in a sequence I feel befitting of each song's innate goodness, I put a bow on it in the form of album art, and I present it to you, my friends and my anonymous Internet friends, as a token of my good tidings and good will. 

So if you downloaded last year's offering and a few of the songs look familiar, it's because they are. I don't start from scratch each year because truth be told, there just aren't enough songs to choose from that meet my standards (be they as they may, subjective and wholly personal). But every year I trim the branches and skim a little off the top, infusing new music when I find it, crafting a mix that, for what it lacks in novelty, at least it makes up for in nostalgia and familiarity. Not every song is a Christmas song, but they all convey a holiday spirit - a spirit, for me, that strikes a bittersweet chord somewhere between joy and melancholy, Biblical tradition and Western world commercial gestalt. And not to place a clunkish gold star atop my tree, but this year's mix unfurls from start to finish without relying on Indie boy prince Sufjan's distinctive yuletide stylings to suffuse it with street cred. 

Most importantly though, I hope you enjoy it. (And enjoy it quickly, because this link won't be active forever, so hop to it, trigger fingers.)

Get it HERE. 

Thanksgiving Dinner

Typically my Thanksgivings are joyously overwrought affairs. Whether it's a trip to San Francisco (and the subsequently enduring mystery of who stole the pork bun), a Lynchian tribute, an urban exploration, or a boozy beverage gone horribly awry, I've always found the right activity befitting an attitude of gratefulness and the right people to do it with (see more here). The truth is, I'm an absolute sucker for the holidays. I attribute this mawkish sensibility to the fact that I'm a nostalgic sack of saline most of the time (don't let the sarcasm and general air of terrifying argumentativeness fool you, folks; you'd be missing the point), and what's more, I love my friends and family with my whole heart. So if you combine those two elements along with a dash of weepy music, a pinch of candlelight, and a heap of manipulated emotional affectation, you've got a recipe for disaster. Cue: Your girl LD, awake at 2am, utterly inconsolable because "Auld Lang Syne" just happens to be playing. Throw a puppy into the mix and I might actually die of a emotionally-induced brain aneurism. 

Contradictions, oh they do exist. I'm living proof. 

ANYWAY, my point in all of this (even if I've re-calibrated it a few times since the initial line of this post) is to brag. Brag? Yes. Brag. Because this year's feast was no exception to my storied history of epic Thanksgivings, and the person I'd like to thank for that is my sister Jody. Because homegirl not only planned the whole event (her attention to detail did my heart proud), but she made the ENTIRE MEAL as well. Turkey? Check. Mashed potatoes, gravy, and dressing? Triple check. Aunt Marilyn's sweet bread (as lovingly adopted by my uncle Randy, who is now responsible each year for the recipe) and mom's cranberry relish? Check. Green beans (dad likes those, NO idea why...but I did eat some, so, you know...progress)? Yep. Deviled eggs? A whole PLATE FULL. My heart was filled with joy. She made the whole thing despite the fact that in most cases, it was her first time making any of the individual plates. 15 pounds of tryptophan and natural juices - perfectly executed. Enough mashed potatoes to spackle a brick building - no big deal. Jody was all over it. 

We invited over a few holiday stragglers to our house, and with everyone's help we made another Thanksgiving for the books. Here are a few photos I snapped of the day's events. Stay tuned for more from the rest of the weekend (it only got more epic from there on out). 

Love, Pamela

Top: Refinery 29, unknown, Vanessa Jackman

So, as many bloggers have probably already stated (and many a post has undoubtedly began): 

I love Pamela Love. 

Her jewelry is just...astounding. Homegirl has that rough-hewn free-spirited badass aesthetic dialed in. She does mystic crystals, and that's officially a meme, Internet, you'd better take note. If she does feathers or claws or skulls or Bozo the Clown, you'd better listen up, world, because the Urban Outfitters of this great nation of ours are just waiting to pounce all over that. 

That said, she's fantastic, she's amazing, blah blah blah - but I'm a fan from afar, because like her as much as I do (and oh, I DO), I can't afford her talons or spikes or mystic triangular whatchamacallits to save my life. Sure, I could save up. But I'm a photographer. Let's just shoot straight here: I work in an exorbitantly expensive profession. If I have extra cash (you know, above and beyond the occasional H&M spree, that is), it's going toward some sort of techno gadget that will make my art more arty and my life more lively and my wallet a bit fatter. Let's just call a spade a spade. I'm a hired gun, and mama's gotta pay her rent somehow. (You can't start a fire, you can't start a fire without a spark...)

So I love Pamela Love from a distance. The pieces I've loved the most in the past few seasons are, of course, her bird skulls and talons. Whether ring, bracelet, or necklace, I've been completely enamored by her avian wares and I'm in constant search for an equivalent. If there's something I've learned from the designers I know, it's that many of them are inspired by thrifted wares, antique bobbles, and any number of vintage finds. That said, there are times when I'll run across something and I'll know that particular item served as an inspiration for whatever designer re-appropriated it and sent it en masse to the clutches of today's style mavens. Sure, there's room for original ideas, but I've always felt that some of the best mid-level designers are really tastemakers in disguise. They see a shape or a cut or a print, a pattern, a piece of jewelry, a type of belt, a shape of hat or what have you, and they recycle that idea, reshape it, re-appropriate it, make it unexpected, re-contextualize it, and make it seem new. In other words, they've got the ability to see something with fresh eyes, and then present it as such. It's a talent, to be sure.

What this means for the rest of us, of course, is that sometimes for every muuuusssst haaaaave item that crosses our visual path, there could be a vintage or thrifty equivalent hiding off the beaten path just waiting to be discovered. Such is the case with my latest purchase.

Obsessed as I've been with bird skulls and talons, I was able to replicate a reasonable facsimile of Love's talon necklace using my own materials and a found charm from LA's fabric district. 

I've been wearing (and loving) this necklace for a couple of years now, but I'd yet to find a cranium-tastic equivalent. Until yesterday, that is. Hidden in a pile of brassy junk at an antique store in Yucca Valley (more on that later), there it was: My avian ideal. And instead of costing me $400, it cost a mere $20. Sometimes diverting from the beaten path pays off. 

Oh, and please appreciate that these photos were taken with my iPhone while I was wearing said necklace. You can't even being to appreciate the difficulty in getting these shots. 

iThanksgiving

Here are a few iPhone shots from the weekend so far. Much, much more to come (of better quality, at that).