diy: how to be your own basquiat via a t-shirt

face it. the t-shirt will never go out of style. but, let's say you're looking for something a little more unique than something from fred segal or kitson (gag-g-g). where can you get a simple black tee that says "fuck you, gaga" in cursive, or a brush stroked portrait of an anatomically correct teddy bear? from your own living room, that's where.

here's what you'll need.

- a can of white water based primer from home depot (tip: this is great to use in place of gesso if a canvas painting you've worked on has gone awry)

- a paint stirrer (get this before you leave home depot)

- tee any color than white

- paint brush with thickness you feel comfortable with

- newspaper

- brown paper bag

- a pre-drawn design

lay out the newspaper on your work space. insert the paper bag inside your tee to prevent any of the paint to fuse with the back of the tee as it dries. also, this will prevent the art from soaking sadly and randomly into the back of your tee. 

make sure the primer is mixed well with the stirrer. you'll know it's at a workable consistency when it no longer looks like yogurt separated from whey.

i like to position my sketch on top of the tee to guestimate where the center is, and proper placement. if you really want to be anal, use tailor chalk to mark where the art will go. 

remove your sketch, and go for it. don't worry about it being "perfect". any graphic designer can work and rework art until it looks like a 16 year old will blow her allowance on it. this is supposed to look like a painted doodle, carefree and street. the fabric will most likely shift depending on the pressure your nerves are making you work. try to be gentle and know that you're using a paint brush so anything can be a happy accident. and to quote my pal jorge (he's an incredible artist), "imperfections are what make it unique." 

here are 2 that i've done:

to get the stringy streaks, dip the paint stirrer in the tin, and let it drizzle over the shirt from about 8" above the tee.

yeah, i know. hot topic ruined skulls. BUT not a gentleman skull with a cigarette, bow tie, and eyepatch. (other things that have been ruined: "hot mess", "fabulous", sparrows, and some gold jewelry {but i still like it}) 

please feel free to send me pictures of your work. and have fun.

i love you: an ode to inspiration

a picture says a thousand words, and these women give a-plenty earfuls. to me, at least. each one of them has somehow influenced me through their music, art, or style. it's not just because they're geniuses at their own individual craft. there are plenty of other female musicians, actresses, and models about. but these women express a strong sense of self possession; it's effortless and entirely breathable. and to be honest, if i can't look away from you, i'm yours.

freja beha

nobody wears a plain white tee better.

i love that stylists make her look like jane fonda circa "klute"...

...or completely andro'd out.

eva green

i'm still waiting for "cracks" to come out and to watch her play an all girls boarding school teacher. 

alice glass

cigarette darling

florence welch

if ever an alien were to ask me to explain distance and heartbreak in plain english, i would certainly pull out my ipod, hand them the earbuds, and play "cosmic love". then i'd hand them a tissue.

maria carla (please excuse the blatant nudity)

stunning. and she's not even moving her lips.

alison mosshart

badass. i'd bet that taylor swift has no idea this broad is her musical archnemesis.

thank you for existing.

this happened: part 1: pepto balls

good lord. i've just seen my plumber. he's visiting the kind old man upstairs, who has a lovely voice. i can say this because the walls here are so thin, i can hear him singing old timey tunes in the shower. but enough about him, this is about my plumber. AND this is a good-bad one.

a few months ago, my kitchen faucet was experiencing very low water pressure. it was so painfully low, that it literally took me 30 minutes to hand wash a typically 10 minute zen-ish chore. i called the management company for a plumber and they sent the same guy that always comes. only this time, i was in for an especially special treat.

"hey, what's up?" he said, one hand casually leaning into the door frame. i kid you not. he must be in his mid twenties, looks like curly from the three stooges but goofier and stouter, if that's possible. 

"hi. how are you?" i replied as i let him in. "it's my kitchen faucet. the pressure is low like a motherfucker." 

he put down his tools, fiddled with the tap, and nodded knowingly. "ok, let me take a look." and so i did. i retreated into the living room. oprah was on, afterall.

10 minutes later, he called me over. "yeah, i see what's wrong." i got up from the couch, walked over to the kitchen, and found him lying on his back, knees apart, head under the opened sink cabinets. normal. EXCEPT for 2/4 things: the giant 6" tear in the crotch of his navy dickies, and the fact that he had zero underwear on whatsoever, therefore pushing out a set of enormous, very pink and surely suffocated balls. you know that shock you get when you swallow gulps of icy coke slurpy on a hot summer's day? well, this was brainfreeze for my soul, and it was hurting.

"um?" was all i could muster, but my inner monologue had some words. "dude, your child bride doesn't know how to sew?" or, "my name isn't debbie, ya jerk" or, "you have a gaping hole in your crotch. and you're not wearing underwear. get outta my house. hold on, tell me what's wrong with my faucet first. then get the fuck out of my house."

he closed his knees together, confirming that he knew very well what was going on below the belt. he explained the faucet needed to be replaced, then very very quickly, got up, gathered his gear, and said he'd call the management company and order a new faucet. and then he was gone.

when the replacement faucet came to be installed, 2 other plumbers came and did the job. totally professional. it wasn't until today that i've seen him again. and, once again, i got the same calling card: "hey, what's up." only this time, thankfully, it was minus a set of balls. visual-image hymen intact.

dress you up

here are a few items i'm into right now.

gold handmade fluevog boots. 

black gucci boots. i got these in '97. my rent in san francisco was $850 for a studio. these were half that. your welcome neiman marcus.

i can't for the life of me find a polka dotted scarf. SO, i made my own little neck tie.

i cut up a v-neck and tore off the sleeve. layers wonderfully.

instead of tying a knot, i'll be sporting this with a baby rubber band to hold it together and perhaps a tiny silver stud earring in place of a pin.

this was just a black blazer. i added light grey binding. if i were a boy, i'd be jamie hince. 

i made this years ago. it's simple black mesh held together with black bias tape. super slinky, has a soft drape about it.

this is how i like to wear it. red skinny jeans are on my wish list.

i can't get enough of this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_HQe_KGKRI&feature=related

bullseye for the blind

i'm not someone who gets inspired easily. i don't shed a tear and write prose upon an incredible, champagne colored sunset by the sea; nor desire to cut myself, left wrist then right, when i hear,"night" by zola jesus (though it IS an amazingly beautiful song.) instead, i find inspiration the old fashioned way: pretty girls. it's few and far between - which is to say: utterly rare. still, try. be my muse.

how to create an ambitious stencil

please see illustration. email me your questions.