In which we take a break from shopping to gaze at pretty pictures and read about things that caught my fancy this week.
In a refreshing display of derring-do, my friend Erin recently picked up and moved to Buenos Aires. She fell in love with it during a South American sojourn earlier this year and felt compelled to pack up her life here in NYC, leaving job, family, and friends behind, to take on the adventures and challenges of a life less ordinary in a foreign land. I myself am enamored of BA and had similar thoughts after a visit there three years ago, but never had the moxie to make it happen. I'm thrilled for her, and I'm all the more excited by the fact she recently resuscitated her blog, Manhattanite Gone Gringa, so that I may track and live vicariously through her expat exploits.
Holy house. Add this to my list of dream homes. Casa Finisterra, Cabo San Lucas, via Apartment Therapy Chicago.
Last week The Thinking Tank posted the greatest roundup of Lara pics. If you too are smitten with the force that is Ms. Stone, go on and check it out. I'll post one as a teaser:
Today I made my way over to the Brooklyn Museum to visit some rock legends. Who Shot Rock and Roll? is a collection of photographs of the some of the genre's most iconic performers from 1950 onward at various points in their artistic development. It celebrates the photographers who captured their look, their presence, and their attitude in images that have come to define them as much as their music. While some shots were staged and full of swagger, others offered unguarded glimpses of tender, nascent talents not yet grown into the personas they would come to own. While there was plenty of Mick, Jimi, Bowie, Dylan, Debbie, and Madge to sigh about, what struck me most were the images of the fans. The faces of the teen girls who stormed police barricades in a seemingly irrepressible wave of Beatlemania and the officers who strained to hold them back provide a glimpse at the larger cultural context, revealing how audiences engaged with the musicians and their music, shedding light on just how influential they were, and foreshadowing the social shifts that were taking place. In photos of grunge-era crowdsurfing, a Run DMC concert full of white teenagers, young ladies proferring themselves freely to Elvis Presley, and faces full of worship pressed against the window of the car that carried an impervious Bob Dylan, there was something to examine that was much bigger, and perhaps more interesting, than the larger-than-life subject itself.