a southwestern feeling

i've been to the grand canyon several times. each time it has meant something different to me. my last trip was my freshman year of college; a spring break road trip via san diego, ca and sedona, az. i put my feet out of the car for most of the drive and we sure listened to a lot of the pixies. i was so young, 19, free and happy to drive through the beautiful desert with visions of zabriskie point in my mind. i was on a camping trip with a guy, and when we went to the store to buy groceries, it felt so special like we were real adults, a feeling i will never forget. camping and beer, that's the big time stuff. it's time to go again. in general, i find the southwest to be increasingly comforting. i still think of the the pixies, anytime i look at purple mountains, and reflect fondly on this week of travel. the desert has a strong sense of longing in my mind. havalina!

descending into the heart of the earth, a place to cool down

o'keefian tension between life and death

purple rustic mountains so overwhelmingly nice to look at
stark, dry, desolate even
again with the purple, orange, yellow, pink, an oasis of color


grand canyon via here & georgia o'keefe

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meditations on space

When things gets rough I always want to escape

(it's not very unusual.)

It would be so nice! Just one day out of life.
I have always been a big dreamer.

Working life has turned me into a day dreamer.

I need to be in communion with the elements

to be truly present.

Choose your own adventure!

Lush, tropical and warm.

the simplicity of fresh, ripe fruits

you feel better eating them

light, balmy air.

extreme solitude and beauty

You can relax and breathe here in the tropicalia of tourism.

but I crave something almost desolate.

Some writers are obsessed with place.

Oates, Proulx, Faulkner, Joyce.

New York, Wyoming, Mississippi, Dublin.

Personal geography.

Who would you be without yours?

Deserts, mountains, air, light.

RUGGED.

For me, it is all about experiencing the immensity of space

Driving through the middle of nowhere.

Sitting amidst the tumbleweeds.

Your mind is quiet, almost forgetting where you are.

Last year, I took a New Years trip to Double Negative,

a place about space in the middle of a plateau.

done by "art's last, lonely cowboy"

warm desert nights in the canyon country of the Southwest

yes please!

my heaven has nobody else.
I rely on literature, scent and images to get me there.

It felt so good to write this even though it was really and truly chaotic.

Common theme: space

M’illumino
d’immenso.

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warmth; a concept

A goal for this year is to learn Spanish. Growing up two hours from Mexico, it was always in the air but somehow I never actually learned it properly. French is elitist and impractical when you are living in Southern California, even though a place like the desert gives you big dreams of far off places.

The other day I heard a program on NPR about flamenco in the Bay Area. Next to Buenos Aires, San Francisco has one of the highest populations of flamenco dancers! People come from all over to dance here. A beautiful Argentinian spoke at once eloquently and simply (funny how those two often go together) about this sensual, extremely intimate dance. She said it's the closest you can become to being one with another person, to innately feel the rhythm with someone and keep it alive. It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor, she said--it's all about the movement.

I need to learn how to dance flamenco.


I've been listening to this song by Paco de Lucia far too much. The way he moves his hands is like second nature and to watch the look on his face is to understand the implicit confidence he has in the melody. It's so free and honest. He just exudes it, you can see he feels it in his bones. This is how it should be; giving in and letting it all go in the music. How nice to share!

Anyway,

I'm dreaming of warm nights,

and missing the palm trees,

always.

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the most important meal of the day

Breakfast is absolutely my favorite meal. In my opinion, there is no better way to start a day. When I was living in Italy, I grew tired of the espresso-dominated routine. Breakfast is spare, lunch is not. Don't mistake my longing for complaining; I ate damn well in Italy, and I enjoyed every single minute of it. The minimal menu for colazione was perhaps emphasized by the fact that I was a student, living a dorm. Private university budget aside (NYU I'm looking at you), I found myself waking up every morning still dreaming of bountiful breakfasty options. With a heavy, American heart, I sat at the table for my toast, spreading on the Nutella quite thickly (oh dear).

During the fall of my stay, I traveled to Ireland for a week-long trip through the countryside with my father. It was heavenly; not just for the green, green landscape of each and every county, the miles of uninhabited cliffs, the warm smiles of the people you meet. Nothing about Ireland directly points it to being a culinary destination; however, I ate the best meals of my life on that trip. I sat down at the breakfast table every day with my dad to a bountiful feast, soaking up every single moment and devouring bite after bite. Each day was better than the last. I found myself one morning in a lovely hotel (formerly a castle) in the town where my family originates from. Miles and miles and miles away from California and even farther from my dolce vita in Florence, I felt completely at home.

it would be easy to fall in love with this

Fives years later, I still love breakfast just as much as ever. Rather far from the decadence of my Irish breakfasts, and the espresso mornings of Florence, I'm now more of a granola, fruit and yoghurt kind of girl. These days, my joy comes primarily from making, not consuming, and I spend a lot of time experimenting in the kitchen. There's nothing quite like creating something from scratch. In cooking and in life, I love nothing more than learning and embracing the traditions of other cultures. Food is complicated yet simple; it tells you so much about a people and their values. That is why I have embarked on creating my own, very small contribution. Emphasis on small. Out of my kitchen in San Francisco, I am making granola by the batch. The good, simple kind, that gave it the healthy reputation it (wrongly) still carries to this day. All signs point to homemade. Those store-bought boxes horrify me to no end with their endless ingredients. It's something I really believe in, pure and simple--pun intended.

You've heard this story before; someone is unsatisfied with the status quo so they make their own thing. Well, that's exactly what this is and I'm OK with that. So, I would invite you, dear readers (whoever you may be), to offer your feedback and input. If you're interested in taste-testing, collaborating on brand identity, or simply telling me what an awful idea I have, I welcome all responses. I am happy to ship samples so correspond accordingly. Send all inquiries to rectoandverso@gmail.com

Sincerely,

Fitz

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indian summer

i am back from travels, and have been for some time. i have been plotting my return to the internet, carefully and slowly. i'm not necessarily sure i want to engage in such a medium unless i feel that i am doing so in the most productive way. to be honest, at times i feel my writing on this blog is a major form of escapism. i want this to be more of a reflection of me rather than a display of self-indulgent taste. more open and personal. embarassing, even. so, here is to honesty, vulnerability and finding my voice. in the spirit of keepin' it real, i shall hold nothing back.

i recently came across painter/filmmaker jeff scher's recent video called "summer retreat." It is a quiet meditation on the final moments of summertime, when that elusive freedom slips through your fingers faster than the wheels are spinning on the car transporting you back to reality. it is beautifully drawn and illustrated in watercolors, pastels. i reflected on this theme as september crawled towards me. of this time, scher writes:

for kids, there is no greater tragedy than summer’s end. September is the Monday of months. it’s back to school, back to work and back to the city. It means goodbye to all the lush and gaudy greens of the countryside and a return to the sober monochromes of the city. Summer memories will be distilled to sketchy highlights and photos downloaded to rarely visited computer folders.

as a student, September used filled my heart with dread, after a carefree summertime spent frolicking by the beach, but now it’s not bad. Working through the summer gives me a new lease on leisure; somehow the more regimented it has to be, the more appreciated it is. I enjoyed the dog days of France and Italy’s Mediterranean coast this past August. Lazy, hazy afternoons, under the dizzying spell of rosé or sun or both. I spent this past Labor Day weekend in beautiful Santa Barbara, celebrating with loved ones, and swimming the ocean. No, I didn’t swim. I boogie-boarded. I jumped. I splashed. I laughed. I played. I was free. I felt like a kid again. It seemed that the greatest tragedy would be the flight back.

i choose to live in San Francisco, for many reasons, and I love it here. But it’s very difficult for me not experience my favorite season in all of its glory, and only seeing it in brief moments. At the moment, I’m reflecting on my summer travels, on leisure, and the idea of vacation. The cold weather allows me to reflect on this as somewhat of an abstract concept. In the adult world, vacations can be so stringent and regimented. Children don’t need itineraries to enjoy life. The older I get, the more I’m aware of spontaneity and frankly, that makes me kind of sad. So, with that, I want to honor the quiet and unplanned moments of my summer travels, the times when I could just breathe, free and easy.

human life from above, paris

simple, lovely planting outside chapel, paris

a caffe on the patio, forte dei marmi lounging under umbrellas, san remo
umbrellas in color; what color! san remo
i don't like san remo, san remo

sailing around Isola Palmaria, thinking of Antonioni, portovenere
a sense of order, portofino
complete relaxation; branzino and wine, portofino
the intoxicating scent of the mediterranean, cap d'antibes

noticing a detail in the boboli gardens, florence

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summer is over.

a cool (heh, pun intended) study in texture, form, and the duration of time. somehow it makes me sad, though. no one likes a melted sundae.

(via erik)

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tumbleweeds

I know, it's been pretty deserted around here. Like Jana, I've been on somewhat of a hiatus. Unlike Jana, I had left with nary a word, for which you have my apologies. I am on a life vacation, gone fishin', figuring things out. But I will be back soon.

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a purposeful absence

dear reader(s),

I apologize for neglecting this blog. You see, I have recently turned 24 and am sifting through some important life matters. To say that I feel old would only confirm my young age; instead, I feel adult and am trying to solidify my place in the world. Reading has been primarily occupying my recreational time; going back to literature is my source of comfort and reminds me who I am, which I suppose is someone who can get lost enough in the endless beauty of certain writers that I feel some instance of identification in their well crafted tales. It offers me the kind of permanence I need, when everything else can feel kind of temporary. Good for the soul.

The internet is sort of the exact opposite of what I am craving now - which is timeless themes, classic style, practiced methodology with new eyes. When everyone I so admire has such specific aesthetics, it's easy to feel lost in the confidence of clear vision. Words and images, they always make me feel alright, but anything with an expiration date just makes me frustrated. It's exhausting to click through so many sites, feeling immense kindredness and community; but then again, it's only another tab. (How did I go through 40 in one hour?)

I'm working on blooming where I am planted (or in this case, where I've planted myself). I think this is what this next year will be dedicated to. Planting my roots firmly in the rich soil; soaking up the sun and thriving. I think I should like to be a succulent; a relaxed, low maintenance plant which is enchanting. Enchanting. In a few weeks time, I'll be leaving for a voyage; first to Manhattan, then to the Berkshires and finally, through Italy, France and possibly Corsica. I plan to return refreshed and inspired (and with lots of foto) to take on my 25th year with new eyes.

Please count my absence as a thoughtful attempt at improvement. In the meantime, I will continue to update my site for images, which you can find here.

until then, be well.

--J

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happy internet birthday

dear aileen-

happy birthday!!

being 24 is serious business;

at least what i can tell from

the past 8 days.

if i were in new york i would

give you champagne

and dance a lot

but im in san francisco

so im writing you this stupid blog post

love,

j

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gold and pink

I don't especially like this song, but I think the aesthetic is very clean. Though the elements are outrageous; glitter, gold jewelry, the video editing -- I feel like the overall effect is very minimal. I like it very much. It's the perfect mood for today.

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fantastic man : a composite

One of the more interesting classes I took in school was about french art at the turn of the century with this amazing scholar. We read a book called Tomorrow's Eve by Villiers de l'Isle-Adam, about a Faustian pact to create the perfect woman--an android. It is a witty story which critiques the mechanical society. Every chapter begins with a vague and assertive title such as "Dazzlement" and "Ambiguous Pleasantries" with an interesting quote (from Balzac, Montaigne, Diderot, etc). Women are reduced to artifice, and it can be difficult to read at times. In the book, an electronic woman is built, the composite of many parts. I am just now picking it up after 2 years, and I discover notes in every margin, furiously marked with pen, and I remember my thoughts. It's a dangerous book, but it's very interesting. Here is my visual response, using a different technology, a different medium to suggest an artificial male.

a dash of dapper a hint of surfer locks, with a warm tan

a little bit country (western)


masculine, with an 80s attention to precision
classic
sportif
slightly dark
always elegant

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powerless structure

Michael Elmgreen & Ingar Dragset. One is from Denmark, the other from Norway; they live and work in Berlin. Their first show together was called Between You & Me, put on by the Danish Cultural Ministry’s Exhibition Space for Young Art. They did a series of works called "Powerless Structures." They also did the Prada Marfa store. It would have been nice to see. Here are two from the series which I like. Very minimalist, those two; with splashes of some Robert Irwin.

Powerless Structures, Fig. 122

Wood, paint, steel chains, door handles

Powerless Structures, Fig. 55
Wood, paint, vinyl, circular skylite
facade of house that I like

(which does not necessarily have anything to do with the above images)
another house, another thought

(maybe it does)

"Performative Constructions"

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smooth operator

listening to Sade in the cool summertime breeze is nice

Sade, "Smooth Operator" (1984)

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the most important thing

is to find inspiration.

anywhere you can!

the rugged nature of lucy vincent beach
chilmark, ma; a place i dearly love

a certain japanese interest in classic american style

but then again who isn't these days!?

the way some swatches look together
at gitman bros
the quiet grace of raymond depardon
his documentaries are naked, funny, touching and visually striking

the geometry of anchor steam bottles

(because drinking beer with friends is the highest form of art)

what moves me right now, in this moment
certainly will change.
who's to say whats next?
always a wonder.

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summer solstice sunshine

listening to this
stoked to fly home to this

in a few short hours, ill be sitting on my much loved terrace
smelling the jasmine and listening to the birds
a timely visit to lotus land in celebration of the summer solstice!


summer starts here.
i have a few books to read (philip and joan)
and a warm tan to get!

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oasis in argentina

a house in Buenos Aires, nestled in the garden

a strong and harmonious integration of site and landscape

clean lines, transpareny

light and airy, this needs little screening

waking up to a series of potted plants

wood, leather, concrete are the primary materials

this home radiates with warmth to me a spare kitchen (always with the bertoias!)

note the smooth concrete

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