All the art a city could want — at least this week

Preface:

1. I love John William Waterhouse, for about as long as I can remember being a cognizant human being.  As soon as I saw “The Mermaid” and “Miranda and the Tempest,” I was sold on a beautiful, idealized version of classical myth.

2. I love San Francisco’s museums.  My dad always gives me a little money for my birthday, and this year I spent it on a FAMSF membership (worth every penny).  This means I (and my guest) get into every special exhibit (currently Jean Paul Gaultier’s fashion and a Victorian Avant-Garde exhibit) for “free.”

3. I love haute couture, despite never having even a prayer of the shape for it.  My high fashion taste far exceeds my shape and budget.

A terrible cameraphone photo in low light. Just go see the exhibit. Trust me.

This week, I went to the Jean Paul Gaultier exhibit at the De Young and loved every second of it.  His designs encapsulate every archetype and icon of art I love: medieval religion (virgins and skulls), mermaids, sinners, saints, punks, and priestesses.  There were bleeding, pierced hearts; mermaids on crutches; beautiful maidens in camouflage, and extraordinary craftsmanship.  Like the earlier Balenciaga exhibit I was lucky enough to see, the outfits themselves were so intricately detailed and beautifully crafted that I could hardly believe a single person (let alone a whole fashion house) was talented enough to makethese.

What I particularly liked? Many plaques in this exhibit detail how many hours it took to complete each outfit.  Sure, these  simply look cool: but when you really look up close and see the beading, the metal plate, the embroidery, the pleats, and the pin tucks… well, knowing it took 1000 hours to complete makes it real. Gaultier (and Balenciaga, and many other fashion designers) is a true artist.

Then we went to the Legion of Honor.

The Legion of Honor’s Victorian Cult of Beauty exhibit was almost a “throwaway” to me; I thought I would just go and appreciate the art, but with no particular connection to it.  I am/was a history major; I love all history but specialized in medieval European tomb sculpture.  Since I now have a membership, I make it a point to see every single piece that comes to these two museums, whether or not I am particularly interested.  I had seen the promotional works for the Cult of Beauty and they looked cool, but mentioned no particular artists I recognized or revered.

As I went through the exhibit with my mother, I pointed out a Whistler painting and told her how I learned that he titled and themed his paintings “nocturnes” or “symphonies” in colors.  I asked her about a specific painting, one that had  a blue and gold theme, and whether she had seen it in her studies.

Then I turned the corner and saw this in person:

James Macneill Whistler, Nocturne in Blue and Gold: Old Battersea Bridge

My favorite Whistler painting from American Art and a favorite from my Art History minor: right there in front of me.  The same painting I told my mom about, and had no idea would be waiting for me here in town.

Seeing it in person gave me the biggest sense of glee: there it was.  What I studied was real!  Ha!  Definitely spent my college funds on some cool stuff, Mom.

(You know, totally aside from my History BA or my JD.)

(It was definitely smaller than I had imagined.)

As we walked through the exhibit, I kept thinking that so many of the pieces hearkened back to one of my original favorite artists, John William Waterhouse.  Some painting descriptions even mentioned the Pre-Raphaelite movement.  I love Waterhouse, not just for his subject matter (classical/medieval/Arthurian legends), but how he paints women: they simply glow.  I have long since realized that many Waterhouse pieces are out of the country, and hadn’t expected to see any until I can find the money to travel.

And then, of course, much to my delight, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a painting where the women had a distinctly “Waterhouse” look, with long red-gold hair and sharp features.  No.  Could it?  Was it? HOLY CRAP MOM!!!  MOM!!! COME LOOOOOOOK.

John William Waterhouse: St. Cecilia, 1895

Yeah, I saw my first Waterhouse in person, finally, and I can honestly say that the scans and prints simply do not do his paintings justice.  The colors are so rich and vibrant, and the women are just arresting.  Even in repose, they overtake the eye with a luminosity I admire.

I bought a print.  Hope Adam doesn’t mind yet…another…Waterhouse print in the apartment.

Either way, an excellent week for art.  If you’re in the city, do visit the De Young and Legion of Honor.  I know I certainly will see these again before they are whisked away.

4th Annual Thxgiving

Whereas I don’t care for xmas, I love Thanksgiving.  Or Thxgiving, if you will.  An entire holiday centered around rich, filling, seasonal food?  Count me in.  Perhaps I am the only person who loses weight on Thanksgiving, but after cooking all day, I can hardly stand to look at everything I made.  But you?  YOU EAT.  YOU EAT RIGHT NOW.  YOU ARE TOO SKINNY.

Every year, I host more people than before (which is somewhat alarming, given the tiny nature of my one-bedroom apartment – we’re either going to have to move or scale back).  This year I hosted 13, and fed 14 (I sent leftovers home for one person who couldn’t make it).

The gal in the smart black vintage pumps and the lemon-motif apron? That's your girl. I mean, it's me. Hi. Yeah.

I’ve been hosting an “orphan Thanksgiving” for four years now – it started out in law school for those of us who weren’t going home to others due to finals, and managed to blossom into something much larger.  The guest – and dish – count has more than doubled.  Now I am the hostess for my mother – which, she says, is a nice change from the many years that she hosted holiday dinners.

This year was my favorite menu yet.  I started with a prosciutto-wrapped stuffed pork (which was challenging when I realized what I thought was a single pork tenderloin was actually two.  Determination (and no other choice) paid off, and I butterflied, pounded, stuffed, and tied those two tenderloins into one roast stuffed) with leeks, apples, mushrooms, brandy, and spinach.  I (sort of) followed a recipe from the October issue of Bon Appetit and was very pleased with the results – two-tenderloin-issue aside.   It’s a great recipe, because you can prepare the roast a day ahead of time.  Although I don’t have any pictures of the complete roast, all trussed up on its bed of apples, let me say that it makes a very impressive presentation.  (As to the flavor and the pan jus gravy, well, I hope it was good.  I didn’t actually have any.)

The side dishes were all tried-and-true dishes I have made before, in various forms.  Try the butternut squash, the creamed leeks, and the roasted beet and orange salad (I added far more spring greens) next time you have an autumn party.  All can be (mostly) prepared ahead of time: the squash can be peeled, seeded, and diced, the leeks can be sliced and washed, and the beets can be roasted the previous day.

It was a lovely day, made better by the fact that I was able to keep my day-of prep time to a bare minimum.  And best of all, one of my guests actually wrote me a handwritten-thank-you note, which completely made my day.

Happy November

Sunflowers, originally uploaded by inlucesco.

The farmer’s market today was filled with all sorts of harbingers of fall (such as it is in California), including these vivid sunflowers.

Clearly, November is the superior month (and not just because it contains my birthday, my brother’s birthday, multiple friends’ birthdays, Thanksgiving, and our anniversary).

99 bottles of air on the wall

"repurposed" tequila bottle on left. I like to pretend it has a purpose at all, other than oooh shiny color pretty object more please.

I have a thing for containers.  It’s a bit of a fetish: no decor in my home will be complete without some sort of container that I don’t actually use for containing things.  Luckily, my mother has the same affliction, so I can blame it on her.  Bad mommy.  Bad.

Things you can do with an awesome, yet empty tequila bottle (the full bottle having been a gift from my uncle): wash it out, take the paint off with acetone nail polish remover, and display it in the window along with all the other pretty empty containers.

I could use it as a vase, I suppose, but that would defeat the non-purpose.  We don’t need no stinkin’ practicality around here.

Sour summer fruit, in a bottle

I’ve talked about my Mom’s mega-garden of awesomeness before – basically, if you want fresh produce, she has an abundance.  Every time she visits, I beg for lemons, pomegranates, pluots, nectarines, apples… you name it.

When I hosted my 2010 thanksgiving dinner, Mom was looking to get rid of several bags of her nectarines (frozen, pitted, and neatly packaged in plastic bags) so as to make room in the freezer.  My friend Andrei - also known as The Guy Who Duct-Taped My Oven Door and Saved Thanksgiving – took several bags home to make a sour nectarine beer.

Fast forward to several nights ago, when I finally got to try Mom’s nectarines in a fermented format.  If beer can be considered comforting, this one would be it.  It’s a little strange to have a beer, knowing the highlighted ingredient is from your Mom’s garden, but it’s good: sort of like having Mom bring me her turkey soup.  Only with booze involved.

For those not familiar with sour beer, it can be a bit startling.  Two years ago, I told Andrei to surprise me at a beer bar (deferring to his vast beer knowledge), he asked me if I was adventurous, I said sure, and he came back with a beer that tasted like balsamic vinegar and tart cherries.  To say it was unusual would be an understatement.   This is a far cry from that particular brand of sour, however.

If you like sweet beverages, sours are probably not going to be your thing.  But if you enjoy beer and your sweet tooth has significantly dwindled, this was bright, tart, and refreshing – the perfect starter sour.  My +1, who isn’t normally a beer drinker, enthusiastically declared this “one of the best Andrei has made,” and I would have to agree.  It tastes like tart summer fruit, in a bottle, and I can’t wait for my mom to come visit so she can try the fruits (ha! see what I did there?) of his labors and her garden all in one.

6pm, Feb. 2, Bay Bridge

Goodnight, San Francisco., originally uploaded by inlucesco.

I wish that I’d had my regular digital camera with me so this image would be of higher quality, but it is one good reason I love living in San Francisco.

The colors and lights on the water remind me of Van Gogh’s Starry Night Over the Rhone, which I recently had the privilege of seeing at the De Young museum.

She cooks!

My friend Suki just shared pictures from Thxgiving – while I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to get food on the table, she snapped some awesome photos of the food and guests.  I’m so happy that she captured all the moments I missed – mostly because I was trying to cook/serve 6-7 dishes in this tiny kitchen (this picture?  that’s my ENTIRE kitchen.  Right there.  To say that presents a challenge is a bit of an understatement).

The entire menu is listed here, including a cocktail recipe, and you can find her Flickr set here - or mine, with most of hers and some additional photos, here.  (More, if you’re a contact/friend of mine of Flickr.)

I’d like to tell you that I wore the shoes (pictured, at right – a 4-inch Betsey Johnson affair) the entire time, but I’d be lying.  I did try, in my neverending quest to emulate a 50′s hausfrau.  In the end, though, my awesome apron is just going to have to be enough.

I’m still not done with the dishes from Thxgiving, but already contemplating hosting a cocktail party.  This is a sickness that must be stopped.  I blame Bon Appetit’s December issue!

Hipster Cupcake and a pluot tart

I got a cake-decorating kit a couple days ago (Amazon Prime is a dangerous thing), and when Tara mentioned something about the “hipster cupcake trend,” I realized that the mini-cupcakes I had just made had some humor (and deliciousness) potential.  This one is dedicated to anyone who can pull off skinny jeans and plaid, ’cause I certainly can’t.

This is the only evidence left to suggest hipster cupcake ever existed, save for an empty-but-jaunty purple wrapper in my garbage.  RIP hipster cupcake, 09/23/10-09/23/10.  You only lived for about five minutes, but your legacy will continue.

Let’s hope my icing skills get better, though.  The ones that didn’t involve writing turned out pretty well.

oh, hi.

After a four (!) year break from blogging, I decided that perhaps I’d like another (well, besides my private livejournal, which I will give up over my cold dead pixelated body).  I’m not the only one with 101 goals to be performed in 1001 days; I’m not the only one who lives in San Francisco, who likes to cook, who went to law school,  who likes to take photos, who has a History BA, who likes to make jewelry, who cross-stitches to relieve stress, who needs a Real Job, or who wants to share another adventure.  Or rather, any of the reasons why I used to love having a blog.  You know – to share a common experience.  (Or to brag about how, like, totally awesome my life is…duuuuuuude.)

I owe credit to Suki, whose blogging about her adventures has inspired me to make my own blog.  Again.

I make absolutely no guarantees or warranties as to the quality of my writing, these days.  Your mileage may vary.  Ask me about microwaving clowns for fun and profit.