Seasoned greetings to you! I realize we’re supposed to be feeling all sweet and sugary at this time of year, but I’m on the saltier side, trying/failing to not let all the stresses of the season get the best of me.
A few observances:
Patti Smith / Harper’s Bazaar
Master and muse Patti Smith adorns the cover of fashion magazine Harper’s Bazaar this month, and I’m willing to bet she’s the oldest and grayest woman to do so in the magazine’s 155-year history. It’s about time. The occasion is the mag’s “Art Issue;” Chloe Cooper Jones writes a lovely cover story about Patti, and there’s also a John Waters Q&A in there if you can find it among all the photos of shoes, jewels and anti-aging serums.
This might be the first time I’ve read Harper’s Bazaar since I interned at the magazine in 1998. It was exactly the sort of Devil Wears Prada experience you’re imagining: Once (maybe twice?) an editor summoned me to her office and said, “I’m craving a cookie. It has some chocolate, a few nuts. It’s crunchy.” Then she shooed me away, and like a rat in a Manhattan maze, I had to Find! That! Cookie!. When I finally returned with a chocolate-y, nutty, crunchy treat, she looked at me and sighed, because of course it wasn’t exactly the one she wanted. I saw her like 15 years later dining alone at an Italian restaurant.
Anyway, I’m grateful for that gig, because it helped me realize what I didn’t want to do. But damn it, put Patti Smith on your cover, and all is forgiven.
Edward Hopper
The Whitney Museum has a comprehensive Edward Hopper exhibit on view through March 5. Among the works are “Automat” and “Morning Sun” and several others that show women on their own in New York. “They’re all so lonely!” I heard someone say just as I was thinking the exact opposite. Then I left and went to the movies by myself.
The Fabelmans
Even if you don’t like Marvel movies or Stephen King novels or true crime shows or [insert popular thing here], you gotta admire folks who make art with mass appeal. Steven Spielberg takes it a step further – his movies attract the masses, but they also feel like they were made only for you.
I loved The Fabelmans, and I marvel at how Spielberg flips multiple switches in our brains at the same time: the nostalgia switch, the heart switch, the “tell me a story” switch. With this film, he magically finds a way to put the best of his past movies into one completely new one.
The Lemonheads
Billed as a celebration of It’s a Shame About Ray’s 30th anniversary (!), the Lemonheads played to a sold-out crowd at smallish venue Le Poisson Rouge last week. Juliana Hatfield opened; I brought a 15-year-old attitude in orthopedic shoes.
Here’s the headline: The Lemonheads sounded incredible. Like, shockingly so. You could close your eyes and feel like you had to get home in 20 minutes to catch My So-Called Life. Heck, even if you opened them, maybe squinted a bit, Evan Dando and Juliana look basically the same. I lip-synced the words to every song beneath my mask.
Unfortunately, the crowd at this show was another story: A guy behind me kept hitting my head with his arm while he recorded on his phone. A middle-aged woman in front of me was so chemically altered she kept leaning other concertgoers and occasionally sitting on the floor. The audience didn’t seem to be into the performance as much as the “event” of the performance. It was, as a beloved musician once sang, a shame.
Good deeds
I lost my wallet somewhere between Whole Foods and the methadone clinic near my studio, so I assumed it was gone forever until I heard from a kind gentleman who found it on the sidewalk. Cheers to Nate, a holiday hero if there ever was one!
That’s all for now, but in lieu of gifts, please watch my film Denny Barracuda and read my comics on Patreon. Catch a free screening on Jan. 12 in NYC. Holler at whitmath@gmail.com.
50 feet from the mistletoe,
whitney
I love this newest iteration of your newsletter where you mash up pop culture with the personal. A lot of us relate to each other through the stuff we see and hear, sparking a healthy dialogue that can peel back the layers of life. Thank you.
Your Lemonheads report confirms I will likely be absent at 99.9 percent of the shows I’m tempted to attend. People ruin everything.