Limekiln Latitudes
On place, purpose and pretty things.Archive for Ear Catching
big pipes
So after three+ years in my apartment, I finally talked to one of the NYC Dept of Environmental Protection construction guys across the street and found out once and for all what they’ve been working on: a 13 ft diameter pipe bringing fresh water (from upstate reservoirs – another discussion altogether) down the west side of Manhattan, connecting presumably to the 13th Street Pumping Station. This block of Gansevoort Street has been under construction since 2004 – apparently the pipe is buried something like 400 feet underground! – and I suppose I finally asked because Mr. DEP and I were literally the only two people out at 8:00am on a Saturday morning. I’d also been noticing the original cobblestones piling up on the sidewalk and wanted to know their destiny – thankfully they’re going to put back as many as they can.

And now at least I know that all those early morning jack-hammers were in service of a major infrastructural improvement… thirteen feet is huge! Reminds me of this awesome advertisement in Civil Engineering magazine:

edge
amazing how a slight shift of the color wheel lends some edge to good old red, white and blue. this video is evidence of the hip overlay that politics and patriotism seem to have received as a result of the overwhelming support among creatives for obama. (no complaints here – except perhaps for the word “interconnected,” which has always struck me as slightly redundant not to mention overused. listen to any designer talk for five minutes and he/she is sure to use it at least once!)
anyway, the video’s got a great aesthetic.
bon iver
i will bow to the gods of restraint forever more. tonight’s show at music hall was pretty profound. anybody who exposes himself to that degree (or themselves, i should say – the rest of the band was as cracked open and raw as justin vernon) deserves the standing ovation and encore that i witnessed tonight.
sean moeller’s stellar analysis of vernon’s heartbreak – and of the band’s live recording at daytrotter – can be found HERE. don’t you dare miss it. and let’s give young mike the credit he deserves – what a stud!
skin, bone, hair
so i caught nico muhly last night at the kitchen – it was a collaboration between muhly and icelandic installation artist hrafnhildur arnardottir (aka ’shoplifter’), called SKIN, BONE, HAIR. it wasn’t as precious or accessible as i’d anticipated, but the theme was pretty damn apparent throughout: aggressive hairbrushing, simulated “playing” of three women’s absurdly long locks, an elaborate stage with skulls and updo’s dotting the floor, and the lyrics to the final piece performed (gorgeously) by sam amidon.
the new yorker profile by rebecca mead last month did a fantastic job, i think, of hitting on muhly’s organic, boundless creative process. but i’m not sure that last night’s piece – structurally, as a singularly conceived composition – came together as well as it was intended to. watching muhly watch his friends perform was probably the best part for me – his mind is clearly operating at a pace and depth that the rest of us can only fantasize about.
afterwards i bumped into an acquaintance who i imagine experiences the world with similar intensity – he just happens to be in a different creative field.
mission creek poster
the best part about doing this sort of project is that it keeps me plugged into music i wouldn’t otherwise dig up myself. thanks as always, andre.
a heart of black
my dear friends the blacks are blowing up as of late! can’t wait for sxsw next week. especially the part where we eat chilaquiles every morning.
“Blacks’ white-suited co-front man JDK Blacker preached the evils of monotony from his imaginary pulpit. One hand to the sky, the other forcefully shaking a tambourine to keep dull spirits at bay, he convulsed with the spastic energy of revered rock proselytizers such as Iggy Pop and Mick Jagger as he ordered the crowd to lose control. And it did. Amen.” -SF Chronicle
www.myspace.com/theblacksarehere
this just in, 04/03: flavorpill calls the blacks “transcontinental punks.” (and of course being “trans” anything adds instant glam.)






