While there are many adventures in the near future, for the present, in the now, it’s all house guests all the time. The extended euro-family sent a delegate and old art school friends seem to be resurfacing in my living room, of all places. I get the pleasure of dragging them around my city, telling them where to go and how to get there and, if it’s at all possible, tagging along to my favorite places.… continued…
You’re not supposed to touch the Richard Serra in the Olympic Sculpture Park, but it’s marked with perfect white pairs of hand prints anyways. There are a few shoe prints too, which I find somewhat disrespectful, but I can appreciated the desire to press your hands on the monumental rusty steel waves. I wonder if Richard Serra cares about the hand prints or if he’d think they add to his work.
I love this piece, I love walking through it and feeling the gravel crunch under my feet, I love walking right to the sharp edge and looking up at the sky, I love the streaky lines the rain has left on the surfaces and the way it’s placed in a low spot below a big round glass sided building.… continued…
It’s official, I’m a snob.
The reason for this epiphany? The baked goods at Honore. Now, granted, I didn’t try everything. Only four things: the cannele — a tiny custardy bundt shaped goody with gooey insides, the chausse de pomme — essentially an apple turnover, the koign imman — I’ll come back to this, and the almond crossiant.
For the record I get that there are different styles of baking and that just because an almond crossiant is one style, doesn’t make it better.… continued…
