Adieu Bill Cunningham

*not my photo

The Sartorialist, Street Peeper, Tommy Ton, Garance Doré and many many more, these are names of fashion street bloggers where we might get an idea of the style du jour. But where do you think it all began? It’s from this man - the begetter, the progenitor of street fashion photography named Bill Cunningham who passed away on Saturday. Photographing stylish and fashionable ones candidly and featuring  them on his New York Times column “On The Street" since the 70’s, New York’s foremost lifestyle gentleman is no more.

Of Bill Cunningham fashion matriarch Anna Wintour herself uttered, "It’s one snap, two snaps or he ignores you, which is death.” Scott Schuman (The Sartorialist) openly acknowledges obtaining the idea of street fashion photography from Cunningham and from that everyone else that is in the street fashion blog cottage industry followed.

Living his life in irony is what impressed me most about him. Famous people coveted for his imprimatur yet for most of his life he lived in a non-apartment quarters where the bathroom was in the hallway on one of the top floors of Carnegie Hall for 60 years! Using only a bicycle as his means of transportation all over the boroughs for his style hunting, he vehemently insisted on living like this until pressure mounted when the trust of Carnegie Hall implored him to move to an all expenses paid, loftier, more luxurious apartment in Manhattan. He once quipped that he wasn't interested in celebrity, sure he always had front row seats on all the shows in every fashion week at every city that mattered; but his disdain for dullness and pretense in his world was obvious. It was reported that Cunningham sometimes tore up his payment checks for work he did for top selling magazines and said, "Money is cheapest thing, liberty and freedom is the most expensive." What he simply loved to do was click away for the photos in the lifestyle/fashion pages of the NYT for the following day and this he did tenaciously.

In case you are wondering who this guy and how far-reaching his mark and influence is in your life, think of this, if you are a girl living in an archipelago somewhere in Southeast Asia who HAS to get that non-prescription geek eyeglasses accessory because you think it goes well with your high-waist cut-off jeans and your Gladiator sandals after seeing Alexa Chung wear it in a picture, it is because Bill Cunningham placed that inception of chronicling the in-style fashion in the streets way, way back in 1978, and now in the selfie generation, you must look fab peradventure a street fashion blogger might click away within your space. And so goes the full circle of Bill Cunningham. Capisce?

*not my photo

Van Gogh and I:

When did I become fascinated with Van Gogh? Well, it was the time when my sister Grace imparted to me the subject of the song “Vincent” by Don McLean. In my 12-year old mind I felt a pang of sympathetic sadness for the artist when he was yet alive and as years passed on I would make it a point to recognize that when people said “Van Gogh” with paintings, it would be about this painter. It wasn't long after that that Newsweek reported one of Van Gogh's paintings named “Irises” fetched $53.9 million at Sotheby's in New York, in 1987, it was the one with the white vase and was labeled as the most expensive painting ever to be sold at the time. “A painting of oil on canvass done by a man who was penniless and mad trounces the world of the arts and culture.” Said I back then.

So it goes that in an immense sense, Van Gogh became my doorway into studying paintings; his style which was “post impressionism” in my view is the most genius and innovative of all the movements in paintings. Even after having delved into other forms like the Rococo, impressionism, German expressionism and the vast morphologies of abstract and surrealism, I am still most captivated by the originality of Van Gogh's strokes and vibrancy. So intimate did I become with Van Gogh's work that I even began to pronounce the “Gogh” as “gokh” like the Dutch, instead of the usual “gow.” In connection with this, I did dabble on paintings and sketches because of the man's ability to evoke artistry even to the ones who aren't so inclined.“Starry Night,” “The Sower,” “Sunflowers,” his still life(s), along with paintings of Van Gogh's peers like Paul Gauguin and Paul Cezanne moved me.

As I grew older and as life continued to present reality to me - in flagrante delicto, such idealistic and dreamy times of my personal belle epoch was set aside. However, when I finally came face to face with one of the painter's “Irises” and one of his self portraits with the straw hat at The Met, I literally thanked the Lord God in Heaven for taking me to that place. Yes, we all have our own Holy Grails. 

Most recently, I ran into a video-documentary about Van Gogh based on the correspondence he had with his brother Theo. The film was called: Van Gogh: "Painted in Words"; it was very well presented and stars the luminescent Benedict Cumberbatch as the painter. The subject was about Van Gogh's emotional journey paralleled with the evolution of his craft. As it happens, there are more stories to be told about him besides the madness, and self-mutilation. There was his admiration for the working class, his desire to be a clergyman and his innocent belief in love. What was revealed in his letters was a tender-hearted man behind the bold and decisive genius of the art. 

His work was far ahead of his time but hardly any recognized him when he was yet living, however, as if to make up for it, forms of today's pop culture from the "Starry Night” pastiche in Woody Allen's “Midnight in Paris” to Don McLean's song “Vincent” to Dr. Who's episode of “Vincent and the Doctor” pay homage and even seek to rectify the inequity of Van Gogh's living days. But oh dear, not even a Time Lord's time machine, nor a high-grossing Woody Allen film could undo it all for Vincent van Gogh. His art lives yes, but as for the man, McLean's elegy echoes centuries of truth about the artist, “This world was never meant for one as beautiful as him.”  
~~~

Autumn in NY

A pic I took from the Empire State

For those who know me, this might sound like a broken record already, but really I don't know what is about the change in the weather, that first brush of cool air and the heralding of fall that makes me think of New York. 

I saw a vague turn of color on our yard's trees and it transported me there. Then, I had to talk to my cousin who lives in Long Island, the one who is partly responsible for my fondness of NY, to reminisce. It was her that introduced me to Junior's Cheesecake in Grand Central; the underground Chinese cuisine in Chinatown, and the crisp strolls in Manhattan late afternoon when the city lights up and I had to just say "hello" and "wish I was there."

Having said all that though, I will say that I am also content where I am. Perhaps, it's just the temperature and the memories getting to me...