photo/art by Thomas Allen

I know you've seen his work: vintage paperback covers X-acto knifed into melodramatic dioramas. I've been seeing them all over the place (here, here and most recently here). It was showing up so often that I became worried that someone was stealing his bit. But no no, it's all him. If I had the money, I would definitely purchase one of his stunning prints. In the meantime, I'll resign myself to lusting over my pirated self-made desktop wallpapers.

CONSUMED: various media, including the covers for (a) Laura Rider's Masterpiece by Jane Hamilton, (b) the May 2009 issue of the Walrus Magazine, and (c) Born Ruffians' most recent album Red Yellow & Blue

Nikki McClure calendar

ACT ONE
(my parents' house in Canada)December 26th :: I'm lying on my old bed in my parents' house, away from New York. I receive an email from my roommate, Dory. "I put the mailbox key on your key ring. There's some Chinese food in a tupperware that I forgot to throw out. I left the 2009 Nikki McClure calendar on the table too. Happy Boxing Day!" Oh wow. A brand new Nikki McClure calendar for 2009? I can't wait.

ACT TWO
(my kitchen in Brooklyn)December 30th :: I'm rushing to assemble a dinner in honour of a visiting friend. People are supposed to arrive in 20 minutes, and I still haven't made the fried bananas or finished the soup. Then my eye is caught by our old calendar on the wall. And yes, there just as she promised is the new one, sitting unopened on the table. I jealously reach for it, but then just as quickly stop myself. I can't yet. It's not even New Year's Eve. Dammit. I return to stirring the soup, wondering if a peek would mean a curse on 2009.

ACT THREE
(my living room)January 1st :: I'm handing out hot chocolate to the small handful of friends that decided to take refuge in my apartment from the brazen New Year's Day winds. The conversation idles between various topics, and I'm cross-legged on the floor scratching my cat. Without explanation, I jump up and dash across the room towards the kitchen. Inquisitive cries follow me down the hall. I call from the kitchen, "It's time to open the calendar!" More confused statements from the living room. I emerge from the hallway triumphantly holding the Nikki McClure 2009 calendar. "I've been wanting to do this for a week now." And like a kid show-and-telling a coveted possession, I turn the cover for all to see the proud month of January.

CONSUMED: my kitchen, Brooklyn

Taliah and her bicycle paintings

For all the kids that love bikes not only as a means of transport but also as an item of aesthetic beauty, Taliah Lempert is a goddess worthy of worship. She paints bikes, mostly with oils, providing an even simpler take on a (relatively) simple vehicle. I have admired her work for years, but had relegated her to the category of "one of those things you'll see on the internet," never to meet in person. Well I met her. In person. And I was so shocked (and kinda tipsy) that I think I made her blush by my incredulous and emphatic "YOU'RE Taliah Lempert?!" Suffice to say that, having already consumed a few beers, I felt like I was meeting a celebrity. And I think, in a certain respect, I was.

CONSUMED: Housing Works Bookstore Cafe; 126 Crosby Street, SoHo (Manhattan)

Pulse Park

I love the outdoor art curated by the Madison Square Park Conservancy. On right now until the 17th of November: Rafael Lozano-Hemmer's PULSE PARK, where lights in the central circle are programmed by two spectator heart beat monitors found on the edge of the park. It was absolutely beautiful. I want return so I can linger and relish in child-like wonder of the spectators.

CONSUMED: Madison Square Park; Gramercy (Manhattan)

Brooklyn neighbourhood poster

There's something kitschy and yet great about the self-referential act of hanging a poster of your city (or borough as the case may be) on your wall. Maybe it wouldn't happen so much in Baltimore or in St. Louis where surely most people are not moving to the city and therefore still going through a rose-tinted glasses honeymoon phase. But here in New York, where everyone is a transplant, it's just as natural as water is wet.

When I first saw the poster (designed by Jenny Beorkrem) in my friends' apartment, I thought to myself: "I could do that!" right down to the choice of DIN Engshrift as the font (it is in my top 5 sans serifs). But the execution is so simple and elegant, that in truth, we should all be happy that I never tried.

CONSUMED: Humboldt Ave; Williamsburg (Brooklyn)