tom sachs space program mars: nasa meets nike, meets krink ink, meets tupac, meets playboy. it was one hell of a party

may 15th opening night at the tom sachs show at the new york park avenue armory

i’ve had eggs and bacon with buzz aldrin himself (no shit!) and i still found this to be pretty exciting

gravity defying counterfeit nike high-tops courtesy of mister tom sachs, i so wanted this one

authentic nasa fridge… the final frontier

i suppose you cant take your samsung point-and-shoot to the moon now can ya!

nasa taco truck, brilliant.

i’m not sure so don’t quote me, but i think this is john fuckin luries stinkin’ air jordans

thanx dre we missed you that night but you where there in spirit… and well as a ban-saw!

this was funny, vintage 60’s-70’s playboy issues painted in official nasa silver. upon exit of the show you walk through a metal detector while 3 mustache-laden nasa officials are busy reading playboys with the nasa silver cover

mars yard shoe, cause you won’t need high tops all the way up there. i was actually wondering that night what nike had to do with nasa and all? and the funny thing i learned was that nike has been and does actually supply nasa with many of the astronauts high tech fabrics and get-ups…

jerry-rigged nasa suit by tom sachs

nasa krink-ink, i mean you’re not gonna go all the way there and not tag shit.

maybe i can explain kl… so last week we somehow got on the premier nights invite list by mistake, sorta like peter sellers in blake edwards’ film “the party.”  it was a hike to the peak of manhattan, but it was tom sachs, and i was curious what sort of shenanigans he’d be up to in new york now that jeffrey‘s has flocked to la. i remember mid-way climbing up mount everest in the cab that i thought damn this better be worth it… but you know i grew up admiring nasa, wanted to be an astronaut, had every book on nasa and it’s space suits, and i even named my dog after the first dog in space… so why not? once there i stepped over the slimy olivier zahn, said hi to robert longo, pushed aside kanye west, hugged mario sorrenti, kissed bill cunningham’s forehead and grabbed some popcorn. the show was great and i had a big smile walking around. but while tom’s work is more trendy than serious and he has a bit of a frat boy humor for my taste, he does make me laugh and the show in a way made my grey week a bit more nasa red. i highly recommend all you art lovers to check it out. the show, at the park avenue armory is up till june 17th so hurry. by dd

a little film on serge gainsbourg

serge gainsbourg on dog abuse. this is near the end of the time when he was somewhat manageable. poor serge… in his drunken years he embarrassed himself many times, not to mention with whitney houston of all people; but, we do miss him nonetheless. i finally saw the film, gainsbourg: a heroic life, which was awful and rather shameless. the only bits of interest surfaced around the resemblance of eric elmosnino to serge, and laetitia casta’s surprisingly decent acting in the bardot dance. true serge fans would have thrown their repettos at the director joann sfar. how could you screw up such a life? by dd

i never knew i was a knoller

tom sachs is doing a project with or about NASA, i haven’t quite figured out yet. it sounds interesting tho. i wish i could stick around this weekend for the ‘breakfast on mars’ do at the armory in new york. but i’m not exactly here to discuss this project that i don’t even understand yet… but it was the lead in to his video “10 bullets” that i discovered on his SPACE PROGRAM: MARS website. the video is a short that lists the rules to his studio, and a brilliant guide for any small formation of humans banning together to create one body of work.

… thought i’d share it for both entertaining and practical reasons.  by kl

sweet smell of suck-sex

what american apparel fails in, tom ford pulls off in folds, and he pulls it off in style. even as the feminist cowboy that i am, i have to like it. tom ford somehow manages to connect with everyone from the uptown stiff, to the downtown milf, never leaving out the occasional out-of-town whiff*. by xy

* INCASE YOU ARE WONDERING WHAT A WHIFF IS…  IT’S NOTHING…  IT’S SOMETHING I LEARNED OVER IN ENGLAND.