Henry Rollins


I wrote this for the LA Weekly:

"Like being licked by a cat for four hours" is how Henry Rollins describes his own show which, depending on whether you're a cat person or not, can be a fantastic or torturous way to spend an evening.

At Friday's Largo show, the first of three nights in LA, he held true to his promise of several hours of cat lickery. And at the end, relaxing the tense, war-like panther stance he had assumed for much of the show, Rollins apologized for the "endless barrage of words" he had just expelled.

We checked our iPhone clocks--dayum, yes it had indeed been three hours of non-stop verbiage, during which Rollins, possessed by the combined oratorial spirit of Hamlet, Billy Graham and Al Sharpton--on Adderal--took us on a guided tour of his super-charged mind.

Read the rest here.

Sun Araw

I wrote this for the LA Weekly:

Sun Araw is mandala-powered postmodern psychedelia, strange fruit that compels the listener to sit down, unpack his soul and just surf the gravitas. "My music is pretty committed to the true psychedelic ethos of mantric ideals, like basically, angle after angle after angle on the melodic object," explains Cameron Stallones, 26-year-old chief architect of Sun Araw, whose default mood is seemingly set to "whoa." His name is not pronounced Stal-lones, as in a herd of sweaty Rambos charging across the L.A. jungle, but Staaa-lins, as in a pluralized Russian dictator. For the record, there's nothing even remotely Stalinist about this amiable mystic, except maybe his magnificent mustache.


Read the whole story here.

Sanrio


I am working with Sanrio on their 50th Anniversary book, coming out soon. It's going to be CUTE. Like, seriously, adorably, teeth-dissolvingly cute.

STAYHIGH


I edited a book about the iconic 1980s New York graffiti writer STAYHIGH 149. It's out now, on Gingko press.
Check it out here.

Teen, Inc.


I talked to the bruddas Teen Inc. at their house in Mount Washington and the conversation got mad deep! The print story comes out in Dazed and Confused soon, and I'll post the full interview transcription here once the magazine is on stands.
Love, Caroline

Richard Barbieri from Porcupine Tree





























Richard Barbieri is in the prog metal band Porcupine Tree, he used to be in the New Wave band Japan, and he RULES, as evidenced by this Q&A I did with him on a lawn at Coachella a couple of weeks ago.

You call yourselves “genreless” and there are indeed many different influences in your music. How do you sit down and write it all?

We kind of write and record in two ways. We do sessions as a band where we go out into the English countryside and lock ourselves away in a remote studio for a few weeks. On the other hand, Steven writes on his own and brings stuff to the band and then we work on it. For this album, he started writing something and carried on and on and on. And he said I think this piece is getting longer and longer and he realized that it was going to be one long piece with a theme that flowed throughout. We wanted to separate that one piece from the other tracks that we had done, so that’s why we made it a double album.

Were you listening to any bands in particular at the time you recorded this album?

I think Steve tends to wear his musical influences more on his sleeve. He listens to a hell of a lot of music, in fact. Personally I am not influenced by music. I mean—I love music. But it doesn’t come out in what I do. I am more influenced by sounds, atmosphere, places, films. Just things in life, basically. I work in a more abstract way. I’m a bit of a non-musician compared with the rest of the guys. I tend to work more with sounds and electronics.

You’re like the texturizer, basically?

That makes me sound like a blender. But yeah. It can be very odd. You know how you can be on a ship in Scandinavia traveling from Sweden up to Finland and you are passing these fjords and all these remote islands and ideas come to you? You get a sense of feeling that you wouldn’t get anywhere else? It’s like that. I am also influenced by the sounds you hear over Tannoi systems or when you tune the radio in and you’ve got two stations clashing and it sounds quite interesting. It creates a new kind of music. My upbringing was working with electronics and sounds and I wasn’t a technical keyboard player, so I don’t concentrate on the keys so much as I do the actual sounds. I learned to make one sound do something very special, more special than two hundred notes.

How do you get into that zone, when you’re writing?

I don’t know. I’ve been a musician since I was 17 and because I don’t understand normal music theory, I don’t follow any rules. I can break the rules. It’s like when Orson Welles went to make film and he went to the camera man and said “look I don’t know anything about making a film” and he broke all the rules. Not to aggrandize myself, referencing Orson Welles, but it’s an example. It’s a bit of an attitude in that if you don’t know and understand the theory, then you are free to do other stuff.

So you think it is better to not know the rules.

Yes. For me, that is. If all the band were like that, then it would be a disaster. But it’s nice—I’m the opposite of Gavin, our drummer, who is a master of his instrument. It’s unbelievable.

You’ve gotta be pretty brave coming at it from your perspective. In that you operate from a position of complete innocence. As in “I have no idea what I am doing or how this is going to turn out. I have my tools…I’m just texturizing.”

It seems to work.

You call yourselves prog—what does the word “prog” mean to you? It’s such a loaded word.

Its not such a dirty word now, like it was a while back. To me, it just means being progressive, looking forward. If you look in the dictionary, progressive is moving forward and finding new ways of doing things. I see Radiohead and Muse as progressive bands. And the Mars Volta. I’m not thinking back to 1970 when I hear them.

So…are you prog in your entire realm of existence? Meaning, do you read progressive literature? Like, I dunno…Umberto Eco. I can’t read Umberto Eco.

No, I couldn’t read Umberto Eco either. The Name of the Rose is fine. Then there was Foucoult’s Pendulum. I couldn’t do it. Tried.

Me neither! I’m glad I’m not the only one. I read that and I was like “you’re a wanker!” You know, like progressiveness for progressiveness’s sake. I dunno if sometimes that compromises the soulfulness of whatever’s going on.

Yeah, yeah. Whatever you do you’ve got to be fairly honest. It’s not always easy to do because you get very cynical. But if you can work on that honest basis…I know this sounds sort of pretentious…but in a sort of spiritual way, that’s the best way of doing things for me. Me, I like dumbing down…I like a lot of basic things as well.

Like what?

You know. Like TV.

Like EastEnders? (British soap opera)

No I like Curb your Enthusiasm.

Where do you live?

Greenwich. I’m a South London boy

So you guys are going to be touring a lot over here? Why are you doing Coachella?

To be honest I don’t really love festivals and I’d never go to one. It’s not the way I’d want to experience music.

How do you experience music?

On my own. On my own.

My friend’s life coach was saying that he was really into your song Voyage 34 – it really changed his life

That was a really trippy, kind of trancy track

That’s what he was saying! That it was trippy and kind of an acid thing. Do you guys still do acid?

Steve has never done a drug in his life

Oh cool, I love it when that happens. So he is just naturally trippy?

Apparently. Neither did Frank Zappa. Do any drugs. Apparently. When I was young, I did things. You experiment. So I went through all that kind of thing.

But you don’t find you need it to get in to that zone anymore, when you’re writing, or texturizing?

No. Although when you think about it, most of the great albums were probably made under the influence of some kind of drug. There are very few that aren’t.

I was listening to Café Ethiopia the other day and I was like ‘damn! do you think it would have sounded this good if she wasn’t totally high?’ And my friend said ‘I think she was sober when she made this’. So I don’t know.

I am reading a David Bowie book right now about his time in Berlin when he made those albums and some of them he just didn’t remember, he was so coked out. He was so heavily into coke that he could not remember an album that he made.

That is amazing! Especially because coke isn’t what you’d think of as being the most creative of drugs.

No, it’s weird. I had a little bit of a similar experience. I used to be in a band called Japan in the late 70s, early 80s, and got into coke a little bit. And there are real lapses of memory about that time.

Just like black holes?

Yeah. Yes. It’s very odd. I know I was there. And I know we did it. But there are certain things I just cannot remember. I really wonder…

You’re like “what did I do?”

Yeah. It’s quite weird.

It’s always been interesting to me—rock bands and their relationship to cocaine. I think of marijuana and mushrooms and acid and even heroin as being more creative than cocaine.

Well coke is a nasty drug. It’s a bullshit, selfish, paranoid kind of drug.

Do you think it just emboldens you to push further, creatively? Just be like “fuck it—I’m going to do this, and I’m going to do that with the drums, and I’m going to texturize like that.”

Well yes. That’s what’s I’m into, yes. I like the idea of everything sounding not as it should sound. You know—we’re experimental to a degree.

And finally. before I get I trouble with Dave (tour manager who is hovering around looking at his watch), let’s talk about your solo stuff. What are you working on?

I made a couple of solo albums in the past three or four years. But I don’t really like working on my own. I don’t really enjoy solo albums.

Really? I thought you liked listening to music on your own?

I like listening to music on my own, but not my own music. The most enjoyable thing about music for me is working with people and hearing what I do in context with other peoples’ ideas. I think I am far more interested in context than I am on my own stuff, standing alone. Also, it’s a social thing. And you get feedback on things. If you are just working on your own, you lose perspective. I’m not interested in me. I’m interested in me and how that works in relation to other people.

Right. As texturizer, you need the raw material to texturize with.

Yeah. And I think if you are doing something a bit weird you need someone who is doing something more…normal. To make it sound interesting. As I said before, if everyone in the band started going off their heads writing really weird stuff it really wouldn’t have any substance or form at all. So I still make solo albums and I probably still will do. But I’ll try and get more people involved.

Coachella

I wrote this story for ArtInfo.com

With music titans like Jay-Z and Johnny Rotten’s Public Image Ltd. playing within spitting distance of each other at this month’s Coachella music festival, it would have been easy to miss the more niche sonic experimentation taking place, testing what can — and can’t — be achieved through the ever-evolving marriage of music, art, and technology.

In the electronica-heavy Sahara tent, for instance, Berlin-based DJ and producer Richie Hawtin unveiled “Plastikman LIVE,” his traveling stage show that pushes the boundaries of real-time music performance. Like a sci-fi Wizard of Oz, Hawtin, who remains unseen for the majority of the show, pushes buttons and twiddles knobs while encased within a giant custom-built LED cage, its lights pulsing and throbbing in tandem with his sounds — resulting in a futuristic environment that evokes a demonic cabaret for droids. Audience members communicated with Hawtin during the performance via the Plastikman LIVE iPhone app, allowing them to send sound and photo files that informed his manipulation of the light show, while also allowing audience members to watch the show from Hawtin’s perspective. A heady effect, to say the least.

“Let’s just say I wanted to create something deeper than just an hour of “'boom boom boom,'” joked Hawtin before the show, which he had spent a week setting up on the festival grounds just outside the desert town of Indio, California. “One of the things that people continually ask about electronic music is, 'Who’s controlling who’? Is it the human being that is the magical component in electronic music, or is the human just one among several components in the musical circuit? That’s the question at the heart of this show.” It’s a high-concept narrative that may have been lost on some of the crowd — many of whom were quite obviously high on something, whether it be on music, life, or another stimulant. But those revelers may have been missing the point. “Technology, after all, can heighten human experience as much as anything else,” says Hawtin.

Sonic innovators Porcupine Tree, a British progressive metal/ambient band that for 25 years has prided itself on being “genre-less” (and which has inspired acts like Gary Numan and New Order), played early on Saturday at Coachella. Keyboard player Richard Barbieri (formerly of the band Japan), emphasized that while technology can be alluring to the avant-garde musician, it is by no means a substitute for traditional, organic creativity. “It’s not about the gear — that’s the whole thing,” he said. “A lot of people say, ‘If only I had this bit of gear, then I could do this kind of music,' but actually you can limit yourself with too much technology. If you know what you want to do, you can do it on anything. It’s an attitude, an intention — the gear comes second to that.”

The sentiment was echoed by British electronica titans Orbital — the two brothers Phil and Paul Hartnoll — who conducted some experiments of their own at this year’s Coachella. After a five-year hiatus, the brothers designed a new show that sees them relying on even less cutting-edge technology than during their heyday in the early 1990s.

“For me, it just gets more annoying, it gets in the way,” said Paul Hartnoll, in the Orbital trailer a few hours before the show. “More technology, that is. We’ve got big old analogue synths. Yes, we’ve got a computer running the digital side of things, running the samples, but we like to keep things analogue, keep things simple.”

Simple, that is, except for when it comes to their trademark flashlight headlamps. “For years we had been strapping flashlights to our heads using these homemade headbands, but this time we got a friend to design our headlights,” said Paul. “They're really nice and comfortable and stay in place — that’s where our technology comes in.”


Malcolm McLaren

A few years ago I was given a bunch of cassette tapes and told to turn them into a story for Swindle magazine. The tapes contained hours of interviews between Shepard Fairey, Roger Gastman and Malcolm McLaren, who sadly passed away this morning.

Here's an excerpt:

Who is Malcolm McLaren? The white, English eccentric who formed the Sex Pistols? The art -school anarchist who lost his virginity to fashion designer Vivienne Westwood, married her, and opened a punk boutique in London where “nothing was for sale”? The cultural alchemist who was asked to “re-brand Poland”? The egomaniacal marketing Svengali who claims he swindled the record industry?

Viewed with reverence and disdain in equal measure, Malcolm McLaren is, at the very least, one thing: a magnificent failure. Magnificent failure, he believes, is the only real means of effecting change in the popular culture. One could view McLaren’s life as a series of cleverly orchestrated disasters. Some of his experiments have changed the face of pop culture (the Sex Pistols). Some of them haven’t (Bow Wow Wow). Some of them may do so in the future (8-bit music, bootlegged from old-school video games, which McLaren is currently championing).

Through out his career, McLaren has enjoyed taking the artistic spectrum, bending it backwards, and forcing its opposing ends to fuse. He merged waltz music with techno in Waltz Darling; layered square dance calls over hip-hop scratching in “Buffalo Gals”; and dressed the New York Dolls in Communist -inspired fashions, provoking the outrage on which he thrives.

Bu tall of his obsessions (including his la test, the rise of the child intellectual) are, like himself, fueled by one thing: the power of the amateur. McLaren, now 59 years old and based in Paris, France, believes the amateur to be a creature capable of the most magnificent failure. And with Western popular culture split into a dominant, over-produced mainstream and a hidden, independent subculture, remaining an amateur is, for many, the only true path to self-expression available today.

Like him or hate him, never before has Malcolm McLaren made so much sense.

You can read the story in its entirety here...and I'm pretty sure I still have those tapes somewhere!

http://swindlemagazine.com/issue05/malcolm-mclaren/

THIS gallery


I had pitched THIS gallery to the LA Times, LA Weekly, NY Times and none of them seemed to quite "get" it. A gallery in Highland Park? Whaaa? Whatever.
Then my friends at Paper magazine called and said "hey...there's this new gallery...wanna write a story?"
Apparently you have to be 3000 miles away from LA to actually appreciate what's happening here.
Here's the story as it appeared in Paper...much shorter than I had written it...but still.

http://www.papermag.com/?section=article&parid=3604

The opening was really fun. Lots of friends old and new. I purchased an Aleister Crowley print from the very talented Derek Albeck outside...ran into the lovely Monique from Icey Lytes...met her friend, the very nice young artist Albert Reyes. Good times.

Michael Hsiung


The AWESOME artist Michael Hsiung is almost done drawing this bison to accompany a poem I wrote.

The bison is a primary character in the poem. Mike gave the bison a peg leg, which is a genius move on his part.

Watch the awesome video Greg Roman shot about Michael here.

And while we're talking poetry, here is Mike's bio, taken from his web page:

"Michael C Hsiung is characterized by: large mustache (one of the few remaining facially hairy Asians surviving today) with all of the species capable of reaching one ton or more in weight; herbivorous diet; and a thin yellow protective skin, 1.5-5 cm thick, formed from layers of collagen positioned in a lattice structure; and a relatively small brain for a mammal of his size (400-600g). . Michael is prized for its mustache, sometimes his art. Not a true mustache, it is made of thickly matted hair that grows from the skull without skeletal support. Michael has acute hearing and sense of smell, but poor eyesight over any distance. Michael C. Hsiung will probably live to be about 50 years old or more."

Liz McGrath feature for Juxtapoz


Liz McGrath contributed some beautiful artworks for the Juxtapoz 15th anniversary auction, and on Juxtapoz.com's auction page they excerpted the feature story I wrote about her a few years back.
You can read it here.
I'm still trying to find the whole story online, without luck...although I have the original print copy and it was indeed a beautiful spread. Liz's story, like her work (and her soul), is the stuff of fairy tales.

Rich Colman























My fave artist in the whole world, Richard Colman, created this genius illustration for a short story I wrote.

The story is called It's Casual, and it is about lusty dolphins.

I read it at the Hyperion Tavern a few weeks ago and I'm still polishing it up.

I'm not quite ready to post it here, but I thought you might like to see the illustration, which gives you an idea of what the story is about.

Thanks, Richard! xxx

It's Casual


I wrote this for the LA Weekly

Like most Angelenos, Eddie Solis is pissed about the traffic on the 101. Unlike most Angelenos, Eddie Solis writes songs about being pissed about the traffic on the 101.
Solis’ band, an impossibly loud punk/hardcore duo called It’s Casual, addresses transit issues with a bone-crushing urgency hitherto unmatched in the realm of urban planning. Imagine Henry Rollins at a City Council Transportation Committee meeting, all neck veins and municipal outrage, and you begin to get the picture.
On stage, Solis’ eyes bulge amid a shock of curly hair, his throat emitting the collective war cry of a million frustrated commuters.
“Los Angeles! There’s too many people! I want them to go away!”
His isn’t the Los Angeles of Priuses, Pilates and brunch; his is the Los Angeles of undocumented immigrants, hardcore music, and waiting for the bus. Now, after nearly ten years of ceaseless yelling, looks like It’s Casual’s bus has finally arrived.

Read it here.

Get to The Choppa


There is a death metal band called Austrian Death Machine whose entire œuvre is inspired by the cinematic work of Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Songs include "I Am A Cybernetic Organism, Living Tissue Over (Metal) Endoskeleton", "Screw You (Benny)" (remember that asshole taxi driver in "Total Recall"?), and of course my personal favorite "Get to Tha Choppa", inspired by a key moment in "Predator".
Austrian Death Machine's stage show is like porn for Arni fans--Tim Lambedis screams his vocals, backed up by a masked Ahhhnold character who brings enough Austrian accent for an entire Okotoberfest.
The bass player looks like a gay T-1000 in cop aviator glasses and blue shorts, and occasionally, an actual Predator might make its way on stage.
I interviewed Lambedis this morning and we spent some time discussing wherether Linda Hamilton was hotter in the first or second Terminator, and why "Pumping Iron", the 1975 documentary featuring a young and very dumb Arnie is a must-see.
I'll post the link to my story on Austrian Death Machine when it runs.

Larry Flynt

I wrote this for Swindle magazine

Larry Flynt

Larry Flynt has seen so many vaginas, he can tell what yours looks like by looking at your mouth. In fact, Flynt, founder of Hustler magazine and America’s most infamous smut peddler, believes the vagina to be the most beautiful part of any woman – “more beautiful than her face,” he says in his Brando-esque mumble.

The Kentucky-born Flynt published the first issue of Hustler in July 1974 at the age of 31. He started out soft-core, but after four months decided to turn up the heat a notch, making his the first American publication to “show pink” (i.e. spread the lips). He later brought us close-ups of dicks in vaginas. Shaved pussies. Cum shots. Shemales. Hermaphrodites. And the infamous cartoons, featuring gang rape, incest (“Chester the Molester”) and Santa Claus talking to Mrs. Claus with a huge hard-on. It was unadulterated filth—and the readers loved it. Hustler, with its trashy, bad-taste erotica, made Playboy and other competing porn rags appear prissy in comparison. “The pages of Hustler were pretty tame—and circulation pretty flat—until I stopped listening to the people who were saying, ‘Larry, you can’t do that,’” Flynt wrote in the pages of his magazine. “Once I began following my own instincts, sales took off and I became a millionaire. And that, I think, is a key secret to every person’s success, be they male or female, banker or pornographer: Trust in your gut.”

Now in his mid 60s, Flynt presides over his publishing, video, sex shop, nightclub, and casino empire from the LFP (Larry Flynt Publications) headquarters on Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills. The offices are decadent, with antiques, classical paintings, Tiffany lamps, and fake flowers in abundance. Flynt is escorted into his office (the size of a small museum) by black-clad security guards who push his gold-plated wheelchair. He has been confined to it since being shot outside a Georgia courthouse in 1978 by white supremacist Joseph Paul Franklin, who objected to images of interracial sex published in Hustler. Flynt lost motor ability but not sensation as a result of his paralysis, and subsequently had a penile implant fitted so he could maintain an erection.

In the boardroom hangs a massive portrait of Flynt’s fourth wife, Althea Leasure (rhymes with “pleasure”), famously portrayed by Courtney Love in The People vs. Larry Flynt. In the film, we learned how Flynt (played by Woody Harrelson) met a 17-year-old Althea in 1971 when she got a job as a stripper in his club, Hillbilly Haven, in Dayton, Ohio. Five years later she became his wife, and as a wedding gift Flynt treated the bisexual Althea to a woman at a New York brothel. We learned how Althea took over the reins at Hustler after Ruth Carter Stapleton (Jimmy Carter’s sister) temporarily persuaded Flynt to become a born-again Christian, and how she became addicted to the morphine-based painkillers prescribed to Larry after he was shot. She was diagnosed with AIDS in 1983, and eventually drowned in the bathtub of their Bel Air mansion in 1987 weighing just 80 pounds.

There’s no doubt many men, like Flynt, are obsessed with women as objects of sexual desire. But not all of them are as leftist, politicized, or obnoxiously fearless as Flynt, who once told the U.S. Supreme Court that they were “nothing but eight assholes and a token cunt.” He once appeared at a Supreme Court hearing wearing the American flag as a diaper, and threw fruit at the justices. He refused to stop talking when asked, and was gagged by bailiffs. He was sent to a psychiatric hospital for six months, and jailed for 15 months. But throughout, he always stuck to his argument: how can something that is carried out by millions of people around the world every day be obscene? Why is it immoral to publish and distribute images of those acts, albeit in their fullest and most explicit glory?

In 1983, Flynt was famously sued by fundamentalist Baptist minister Jerry Falwell for $45 million after Hustler ran a fake advertisement in which Falwell was “interviewed” about his “first time,” using uncharacteristically foul language to describe fucking his own mother in an outhouse. Five years later, Flynt won a landmark Supreme Court decision in the case. The decision was unanimous, with Chief Justice Rehnquist opining that it was patently obvious that the “interview” was meant as satire, and that the creators of parodies such as Hustler’s were protected against litigation by the First Amendment.

Not surprisingly, Flynt has had an ongoing beef with militant feminists, who he calls “anti-sex, anti-porn, and anti-male.” “I’ve always felt that feminism was just an excuse for ugly women to march,” he once said. He’s also ardently opposed to the Bush regime and has made Hustler one of the few porn rags with a strong political bias, with the right to free speech at the core of its ideology. Hustler contributors have included award-winning BBC reporter Greg Palast, activist Jesse Jackson, and Nobel Peace Prize nominee Dr. Helen Caldicott. “Here at Hustler, we maintain the same philosophy we had back then,” he wrote in his magazine. “At its core, it’s a philosophy that demands we defend the truth, whether it be by displaying a woman’s body as it was created or by calling an asshole an asshole, even if he is the President of the United States.”

A hero to some and a miscreant to others, Flynt is a man who has changed our times—and our laws. And, as the tagline to The People vs. Larry Flynt points out, “You may not like what he does, but are you prepared to give up his right to do it?”

GWAR

I wrote this for Dazed and Confused magazine.

Before Matthew Barney’s Cremaster Cycle, before the twisted Guns ‘n Roses album art of Robert Williams, before HR Giger’s sinewy aliens and before the WWF, there was GWAR—a troupe of crack-addicted, heavy-metal extra-terrestrials, who, beneath their grotesque rubber and latex costumes remain among the most hopelessly underappreciated art school drop-outs of our time.

In a career spanning 25 gory years, GWAR has never had a radio hit, yet their meticulously-wrought horror movie aesthetic, DIY art-punk philosophy and anarchist leanings have inspired and amused countless artists and musicians, paving the way for shock rock acts like Marilyn Manson, Slipknot, White Zombie and Lordi.

Al Jourgensen of Ministry claims GWAR “changed his life”. Legendary “Alien” movie artist HR Giger was so blown away by GWAR he invited the whole band to his house, and goes to see them play each time they visit Switzerland. Dead Kennedys frontman Jello Biafra has repeatedly allowed himself to be “killed” on stage by GWAR, and Debbie Harry once gifted the band an axe, upon which she’d scrawled “keep on hacking”. But despite their devoted hardcore of fans and admirers (2000 or so diehard GWAR fans calling themselves ‘Bohabs’ follow the band to each show), success has always remained tantalizingly out of GWAR’s reach.

The reason? They’re gross.

Vogue

I wrote this for the LA Times.

Beverly Johnson was a 21-year-old ingenue sleeping on a mattress on the floor of her midtown Manhattan apartment when she went into the photo studio with legendary photographer Francesco Scavullo 35 years ago this month.

The atmosphere, she remembers, was "magical." "You could kind of feel it in the air during the shoot," says Johnson. "I knew it was going to be a good picture."

But the rising model was stunned when she learned that an image from the session -- of her in a simple, powder blue sweater and a Mona Lisa smile -- would become the cover of Vogue in August 1974, making her the magazine's first black cover model.

Read the rest here.

Fashion Students


I wrote this for the LA Times

Davy Yang, 21, peers at the models sashaying down the Otis College runway in his carefully wrought designs -- an arresting yellow swimsuit that swirls on the hipbone with fabric trailing down the back, and a blue jumpsuit with an eye-catching rust-colored scarf -- garments that took two full semesters of sketching, stitching and adjusting to perfect.

Squinting through a crack in the wall backstage, Yang, a junior in the college's grueling fashion design program, critiques his work, aloof as a master couturier. "I was a little disappointed," he says afterward. In fact, he's always a little disappointed -- such is life in fashion, apparently.

"Every fashion designer is on this pursuit of perfection," says the waifish Yang, who describes his designs -- and his own personality -- as "dramatic." "I don't know if it happens in other fields as well, but I think in fashion you never stop. There's never a point when you're done, and it's perfect."

Read the rest in the LA Times.