Aakash Nihalani’s neon New York.

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RainboroughPortland has some great street art, but I would really like to see Aakash come to town and decorate some of our old, gray, grandiose buildings with his colorful shapes. Instead of using spray paint or wheatpaste (the two most common materials to use in graffiti art) he relies on neon-hued tape to create his bold geometric patterns. The piece above is named Rainborough, which is a delightful play on words if I ever heard one.

But, like many things, you’ll only see Aakash’s work in NYC. As he explains on his website, he wants viewers to experience New York in a new way, through new eyes brightened by vivid pinks, yellows, and reds. These glowing tones highlight the solid shapes of New York architecture, emphasizing both the past and the city’s brilliant future.

For more of his work, check out aakashnihalani.com. Or you could go to his Flickr stream. And if you’re feeling inspired, you can always order some washi tape and create a little Nihalani-style mural on your own wall (and that’s what I’m going to do, as soon as I have a hot minute to myself).

Springtime in Maine is beautiful, but life changes are even more lovely.

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IMG_2603Tomorrow, I turn 26. Just to reiterate: twenty-six! For a long time, this was the number I feared. To me, 30 has always been a comforting age (that’s when I’ll have my shit together) and 21 never seemed particularly special. But 26 was the start of my late twenties—it’s when the post-college messiness goes from being cute to a little worrisome. It meant I would have to stop freelancing, stop hitching a ride on my parents health insurance, and start figuring out how to obtain a “real” job. Fortunately, I’ve been a little ahead of schedule. Last year, I managed to find a really great nine-to-five position at Dispatch Magazine. This job enabled me to move up to Maine, live in Portland, visit cities and towns throughout the state, share my writing with a new audience, and make some of the best friends I’ve ever had.

But now it’s time for a change. On Monday, I start my new job at Maine Media Collective. I’ll be working as the online editor for Maine Magazine and Maine Home & Design, and I couldn’t be more excited. I’ve realized that I am still too green to be in charge of an entire office. I need to learn from those above me. I want to improve my writing and expand my skills. I want to become better, not stagnate (and I was afraid I was becoming too unimaginative in my old position).

Leaving all the weird number stress aside (on a side note, is there any symbol more stress-inducing than a number? Scales, grades, ages, and fees. All numbers. Words are so much kinder to me.), 25 was a very good year. And I hope 26 will be even better. Onward and upward!

Clare Elsaesser paints the perfect summer.

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married to the seaTo me, summer is a state of undress. It’s bathing suits worn as bras in anticipation of a potential swim. It’s running around in a t-shirt and cut-offs, with as few pieces of underwear as possible. It’s loose limbs and undone hair, cotton dresses that don’t quite cover, blisters, sunburns, tans, and bare feet.

Much like my introductory paragraph, Clare Elsaesser’s paintings could be read as sexual. They feature waifs, thin and graceful, covered by flowers or standing in a colorful, kaleidoscopic mess of blues and greens. They’re walking through sun-dappled woods, faces covered but legs nude, or emerging from water that has been abstracted into flat planes, blocks of color. While Elsaesser mutes the backgrounds, she applies a much tighter hand to her romantic heroines and her shockingly pink blossoms. These girls are lovely in their anonymity, sweet and floral and free.
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And yet to me, there is nothing overly sexy about the summer state. The lack of clothes are not for show; they’re for my body, which craves warm air and the wash of sun. That is, I think, what makes it so great. Clare’s girls aren’t being stared at by predatory eyes. They’re relaxed, languorous, sensual yet not quite sexual.

I love these paintings so much, that I am going to buy myself one for my birthday (coming up in 10 days!). I also wanted to share them, because they are too pretty to keep to myself, and I think she’s talented in a way that makes me envious. It’s like the girls in the sketches; I want to be seen (and to see) in this way.

watching trees

from behind

Buy a Clare Elsaesser print here. They are very affordable, just don’t buy the one I want, kay?

 

My favorite album of the year.

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Waxahatchee-Cerulean-SaltI know it’s a bit early to be naming albums of the year, but I don’t care—Cerulean Salt is so, so good. Waxahatchee is the solo project of Katie Crutchfield, who has been writing and performing her own songs since her early teens. And it shows! She’s so talented. I can never listen to an album from start to finish (hello, ADD America reference) but I did listen to this, again and again. Her sound is a bit grungy, lo-fi, with echos of punk. Some songs are slow and rather sweet, which is nice because it showcases her vocal range, since she so often growls out lyrics, scratches them on your eardrums. In a good way though, because that sounds painful and it’s not.

Reviewers often describe music as “for fans of Band X and Band Y” and I know some people find that cheesy, but I actually like it a lot. I like it when Netflix tells me what I enjoy (gritty crime dramas with a strong female lead, or suspenseful supernatural thrillers with a strong female lead) and I love it when Amazon suggests books. So I’m going to do it too. If you like Best Coast, 90′s Liz Phair, or Cat Power, you’ll like Waxahatchee.

 

Jason Brooks puts Paris on paper.

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paris005Fashion illustrator Jason Brooks has just managed to bump Paris onto my “worth it” plane ticket list. I never really wanted to go to Paris. I’ve always been more attracted to isolated places, like Alaska or Siberia, than big, beautiful, old cites. Though describing it now, I realize I do like those crowded places, too. Just Budapest, not London. Philadelphia, not LA. I’m picky, I guess.

But I am veering too far off topic. Jason Brooks is publishing a book of his sketches of Paris. They are, by their very nature, wonderfully romantic. How can a drawing of a street be romantic? I don’t know. It just is. That’s the entire point of Paris. It exists solely for the macaroons and tulips and rainy, hazy days, and the entire idea of Spring in Paris and love in Paris and that lady who fell in love with the Eiffel Tower and married it. Clearly, she took it too far, but Paris has that je ne sais… Ugh, I’m sorry. Just look at his book.

dear paris