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I was walking down 10th Avenue last week thinking that I couldn’t believe I was going to be in NYC and not visit a single bookstore when I looked up and saw a sign that said “READ.”  Turning to look at the sign, there was a bookstore.  Not just any bookstore, it felt like some sort of mystical conjuring moment because this was a bookstore designed for me.  If I ever lived in NYC, I’d need to live next door.

192 Books specializes in literary fiction, “literary non-fiction” (think history), art, travel (the yummy cooking and experiencing side of travel) and children’s books.  When I say literary fiction, I mean it.  The front “come hither” table for fiction didn’t have The Help or the books with pie in the title that I can never remember (Sweet Bottomless something and Potato Peel something), all nice reads, this table had Proust, all three volumes of Remembrance of Things Past.  My three favorite literary fiction publishers (Europa, NYRB and Archipelago) were present in abundance.  The events feel as curated as the selection.  David McCullough recently passed through and there are a few this summer, evenly spaced through the season.

For me though, it was the shelves and shelves of art books that lined the upper portion of one wall and wound around to the next.  From criticism to theory to biographies to monographs to gallery life, the topics are wide ranging.  The commitment to art goes beyond the written word, the store offers up its limited wall space to exhibits of contemporary art.  Located in the heart of the Chelsea gallery district, 192 Books brilliantly reflects its neighborhood.

This is the type of store, short on space but big on books, that I would normally assume would skimp on the kids section, but the shelves devoted to children’s books are kid height filling the bottom shelf around a good portion of the bookstore.  Perfectly designed for the kids to look at books on one level while the parents are looking at their choices just above.  Why doesn’t every store do that?

192 Books picks just the right books, at least for me, and will be a must see stop every time I’m in NYC.

192 Books

192 Tenth St (at 21st St)

New York, NY 10011

Tel:  212.255.4022

 

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In our college visitation romp around New England, I was able to steal away a few hours to visit three lovely museums.  (Keith and Kyle believe I arranged that afternoon of golf for their benefit.)  All the museums are worth an afternoon of your time, and the respective bookstores deserve dropping by also.

Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute is a shining star amongst the small museum set.  We raced to Williams so I could visit before it closed and we made it with 45 minutes to view the collection.  Kyle scouted the galleries, finding pieces of art that he knew I would like and leading me to one surprise after another, the greatest was Botticelli’s Madonna and Child.  It might actually be my favorite of the artist and the genre.  The bookstore at ‘The Clark’ rambles through the lobby giving everyone the opportunity to browse while moving from one section of the museum to another.  There was an impressive selection of art history books, the website advertises more than 2,000 volumes.  That figure doesn’t surprise me, this is one of the few museum shops that concentrated more on books and less on ‘stuff.’  Not to say there isn’t sideline merchandise, they have the reproductions, posters, kids items (a great way to introduce art in a child-accessible manner), and knick-knacks, but I could have spent hours browsing through all of the books.  There were tables dedicated to the current exhibits and past exhibits, but also a solid representation of catalogues for current and recent shows in New York and Boston, both cities within “excursion distance.”  Delightfully, there was an excellent sale table full of recent art history books that people actually want to read, the offerings felt more like a gift to the reader rather than a way to clean out bookshelves.

Not to be out done, Yale has a beautiful Donatello

 

Yale University Art Gallery is the “honey I shrunk the kids” version of the Met.  I was amazed at how I traveled the history of art in three floors, saw beautiful pieces, and left before my feet ached.  Again, the ‘bookstore’ is in the lobby, but it’s the polar opposite of The Clark.  Here, it seems there are half as many couches to lounge on and read about art as there are books to choose from.  It’s sparse, but intriguing.  The publications focus on the Yale collection and current and past exhibitions.  Oddly enough, although the bookstore doesn’t provide a huge browsing experience, of the three museum stores, this is the one I’d like to come back to for an afternoon.  I’d love to spend a couple of hours hanging out and perusing what is there, it feels very welcoming.  It struck me that what I found at the Yale bookstore would be directly helpful in gaining a deeper understanding of the art elsewhere in the building.

Yale Center for British Art is a mini Tate Museum, the old one before it franchised.  I loved wandering past the Stubbs, Turners and Reynolds in the galleries and then trying to identify the Tudor portraits.  Not all the art is mired in the past, I walked through an exhibit for contemporary artist Rebecca Salter and became a huge fan.  A solid wall of books on British art is a treasure trove for anyone interested in the subject or any of the Read the rest of this entry »

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I know, “Annie Hall” was great, but I was still reeling from some movie with a tiger and dubbed conversation that was so awful I actually left, and I never leave.  I think I watched “Annie Hall” with suspicion and never really settled in to enjoy it.  Since I’ve had kids I’ve wondered why any parent with young children would want to see Woody Allen in a movie, don’t they get enough whining at home?  Not to mention the whole pedophile thing with Mia’s daughter.

Then I heard about “Midnight in Paris” with it’s mix of art and literature, two of my favorite topics, and I grew intrigued.  I experienced the dubbed conversation movie debacle decades ago, so why not give Woody another chance?  Besides, Owen Wilson is charming, not whiny.   I didn’t have any idea about the plot, so when Zelda showed up I actually gasped and then giggled as Scott joined her immediately once he noticed Zelda talking to a strange male.  From then on it was rapid fire mingling with one great writer or artist after another.  I was trying to guess each character as they appeared, Dali was easy, Man Ray stumped me.

It’s pure joy reveling in the presence of Hemingway, Picasso, Dali, and Gertrude Stein.  The vignettes aren’t particularly illuminating, there isn’t any deep character analysis of the era or the people, just a romp through history exactly how many of us would dream of it.  Hemingway comes off overly macho with a dialogue full of clear, declarative sentences.  Fitzgerald is all charm.  Dali is dreamy and a bit incomprehensible, which pretty much describes his art.  Picasso is temperamental.  Kathy Bates gave Gertrude Stein a camp counselor/motherly aura that I’m not sure I believed, but I’d like to think she was the den mother for all the over-sized personalities.

I found the current story line a bit boring, a man dissatisfied with his contemporary life in Los Angeles (of course LA, the lazy and trite choice).  I impatiently waited to meet another superstar from the past.  ”Midnight in Paris” is the film version of the game ‘who would you invite to dinner if you could ask anyone from anytime?’  There is a message, the movie opens with the question what era would you live in if you could choose?  Owen Wilson answered Paris in the 1920s.  In my head, I answered, right now, right here.  But, I’m older than Owen Wilson.

I haven’t enjoyed a movie this much in ages, I left saying “that was written for me.”  What a surprise that it’s from Woody Allen.  If you love art and literature, this is a movie designed for you, go see it tonight.

[I don't understand why Van Gogh's style is in the movie poster, he doesn't appear, I don't recall that he was referred to, probably just an easy choice.]

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The Los Angeles County Museum of Art showed Christian Marclay’s ‘The Clock” in its entirety, from 11AM yesterday to 11AM today.  In the simplest terms, ‘The Clock” is a movie of thousands of film clips most of which are clocks that reflect that exact time.  When the clocks on the screen showed 3PM, I looked at my iPhone and it said 3PM.  I checked it several times during the span from 2:45 to 4PM that I watched and then again from 9:05PM to 10PM and every time it was accurate.  On a superficial level, I spent over two hours yesterday literally watching the clock.  With this movie, watching the clock is fascinating.

Of course there isn’t an overarching story for the film, but what’s the uniting theme for time other than it passes?  Nevertheless, there are quips and consecutive sequences that wash over the viewer.  Not an entire story, just snippets.  It occurs to me that most hours and days aren’t complete in themselves, they are fleeting experiences sometimes totally a whole, sometimes not.  I wondered if I would enjoy a lack of narrative and in the end, I found it relaxing almost a relief to only watch.  I let time wash over me with a series of images and puns, sometimes sparking a thought, other times a smile, always interest.  The experience felt like a visual Google search about the clock.  The front page of any Google search result is a listing with a reference and a fragment of a description, enough to inform a decision about further exploration, or not.  ’The Clock” felt like the movie version, I only saw a flash of scene, a heading so to speak, and maybe a little more, yet I could tell how it related to the topic.

I didn’t plan on going twice, but I wanted my family to see it.  During the afternoon I saw Big Ben multiple times, scenes of kids in school and getting out of school, people leaving work, shopping, a nap or two.  I didn’t stop to think about how the time affected the activities portrayed.  During dinner I described the movie to my family and we decided to dash back to LACMA to experience it together.   We arrived at 9:05 to see violence, crime (two murder scenes), anxious waiting, and an execution.  At one point I looked over at Kelsey to see her eyes closed and covering her ears.  How much do we as a culture imbue the hours of the day with certain meaning?  I wonder if I have a silent but underlying emotional reaction to different times of the day.  I don’t think I’m the only person who is more on guard at night, but seeing all the scenes together elevated the anxiety.  Plus, it was only 9PM!  It’s caused me to think about whether some of our reactions are natural and wise, and maybe others are heightened by media.

The 24 hour showing ended this morning, but starting Friday, LACMA will be showing the film in real time while it is open from 11AM to 8PM.  I’m going to drop in now and again to catch a few more hours.

(I hoped to find a scene or two shot in a bookstore, but didn’t notice one, let me know if you did.)

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Photo by Louis Andre Henao

I love the intersection of books and art, regardless of which medium dominates.  Whether the story is about art or the art is made from books, it catches my attention.  Marta Minujin raised the bar to new heights with her seven story Tower of Babel made of books in Buenos Aires.  Celebrating UNESCO’s naming of Buenos Aires as World Book Capital 2011, Minujin created the public sculpture from 11,000 books in various languages.  Climbing the sculpture, a visitor will find books from all over the world next to each other.  No Spanish, English, French sections here, this is the Tower of Babel where all languages are represented mixed together.  The mixture isn’t only visual, winding up the tower visitors hear music composed by the author and her recitation of “book” in several languages.

It took over 10 days to build with a crew of dozens.  Taking it apart may be quicker, readers are invited to come and pick one book each when the exhibit closes at the end of the month.

 

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