Tag Archives: homeys

Curtis Kulig is too tall. Especially as he sits in front of me in his downtown New York apartment, on an ironically miniature chair, he’s too tall.  All arms and legs and neck – he acknowledges it and abhors it. And at 6’4″ and settling into adulthood, he’s still growing.  He can’t really help himself.

It’s as if his size is catalyzed by his irrepressible creative reach, as if his artistic range is as interminable as his giantism.  The artist and photographer responsible for the “Love Me” tag/brand/enterprise is a looming colossus, a King Kong-sized force in the New York public and private art scene.  It started with graffiti tags and stickers and throw-ups and has now blossomed into a universal icon, adopted by sympathizers worldwide.  Whether skateboarders or Wall Street brokers or law enforcement, everyone relates on some level to Love Me.  Not only that, but they take ownership of it.  So in a way, it belongs to all.

Love Me adorns door stoops and subway markers, but it now enters fine art galleries, it affects trendy restaurant decor, Love Me collaborates with the Vans sneakers on your feet.  Love Me is an expression, but it’s an icon, and a shared language, all in one.

Gui is Curtis’ assistant.  Today he works on prepping a silkscreen project for an upcoming collaboration with a local business.

Curtis is as dedicated to his photography as he is to his art. In fact, right now, he’s concentrating more heavily on his camera game.  Polaroids of friends and associates; I see some of actress Paz de la Huerta:

We wind down a flight of stairs and tumble right out into the sidewalk of cab horns and bustling passers-by.  Just a few blocks away, right as the neighborhood shifts between ethnic boundaries, is Curtis’ studio.

He works here endlessly, he pours himself into these canvases, into the night, into tomorrow.

Racks on racks on racks of commissioned pieces and upcoming work for gallery shows.

It starts with one.

Support your local artist! Support Curtis Kulig. Support Love Me.

by bobbyhundreds

The air is cold and delicate, as an unrealized New York City winter anxiously matures into the warmer months.  You can feel the city growing back into its skin, shedding its layers, getting a head start, hustling harder into the new year.

Speaking of the hustle, I want to see my friend Vashtie.  With a schedule as full as hers, it’s a serious task to accomplish, often marred by her jet-setting off to engagements and appearances and DJ gigs around the world at a moment’s notice.  So today, to have her here, even if just for a couple hours’ time, I’m pretty grateful.

Of course, she’s between appointments. I’ve just started my day but she’s already wrapped meetings uptown.  By the time we meet, she’s two steps ahead of me, her thoughts already projecting onto what comes next in her day.

She keeps those thoughts categorized here in her little red notebook with her favorite Sharpie pen.  She won’t let me read much of it; but it’s the best she can do to capture the fury of what’s going on inside that brain. Corporations would pay big bucks to smell these pages (and they do).

By this time, we both decide that we’re hungry. She asks first, “Where do you want to eat?”  But I remind her that today is her day, so “Angelica Kitchen,” Vashtie suggests.

She immediately apologizes for the fare and the ambience.  She knows it isn’t the coolest, most-happening place in the city, but she likes it here. She had other options for us, hip cafes with low lighting and rare foods, but this vegan, organic, no-frills restaurant is the real Vashtie.  For someone so worldly and eclectic and culturally significant as her, you wouldn’t expect her favorite dish to be a plate of steamed veggies.  But that’s what makes her her.  Impossible to define or pigeonhole.

I tell her that, and she smiles, “That’s really offensive, you know.”

Come on, it’s true.  I’m blindly assuming you already know all about her, but if you don’t, I don’t even know where to begin.  Vashtie is one of those personalities in the scene whose name is imbued with brand equity.  I’m talking about her actual government name, that has as much cache as a swoosh or an apple.  She’s the cool kid that is furthest from trying to be, and that’s why the big dogs lean on her – because her aura and credibility are contagious, she has that “touch” that anoints the trickling-down of the trend forecasting pyramid.

She’s an artist and DJ and summons the uber-everything partgoers from coast to coast.  Friends with all the right people, at the right place, at all the right times.  She owns and directs her brand, Violette.  Vashtie is an accomplished music video director.  She’s the face of this, the unofficial figurehead of that.  And a few more sizable resume boosters are in the works that I’m not at liberty to talk about.

Let’s just say she’s working on finding a bigger apartment.

(Vashtie takes a quick call with her manager)

One of her latest collaborative projects is between Violette and Beats by Dre, being sold exclusively at the Beats store in SoHo.  She keeps it New York, obviously a thematic undercurrent throughout her life.  Vashtie went with a NYC cab motif with the checkered pattern and contrasting yellow accents.  Smart enough, kooky enough, comprehensive in design and brand.

Vashtie has a gift for me.  It’s a pin she found the day before when she was out in L.A.  She notes the irony of finding me a gift in my hometown, but she didn’t want to host me in her city empty-handed.  That’s the kind of person she really is.

She gets another text, and then a phone call.  Her driver is waiting for her just up the street.  She’s being tractor-beamed into her next meeting somewhere up in a big skyscraper, where self-important people with obnoxious budgets will do their best to understand her and align themselves with her.  How can one person have that much of an effect on what happens next for everyone else?

By being themselves, I guess.

by bobbyhundreds

And this is Jay.  Jay Howell.

A year ago, Jay and his girlfriend Ruth moved to Los Angeles.  Before that, they lived in San Francisco; that’s where they met. Turns out they were also native to a small town in Massachusetts but neither of them realized that ’til later. So they live here now, with their dog Street Dog.  They found him as a newborn (umbilical cord and all) clawing to life in the middle of Sunset Blvd. not long after moving to L.A.

In San Francisco, Jay worked at a gallery and drew characters and stuff, while Ruth shot photos.  He started a ‘zine that became very popular called Punks Git Cut, but his real launching pad was an animated series, “Forest City Rockers,” that he created with his friend Jim.  He was soon recruited to develop the characters for a Fox sitcom you may have heard of called “Bob’s Burgers.”  And then he began working with Jim on a proposed kid’s cartoon for Nickelodeon.  I guess you can say this all happened very fast but Jay calls himself a “late bloomer.”

Meanwhile, Jay doesn’t consider himself an artist. He likens himself at best an illustrator or cartoonist. The “artist” badge just weighs so heavily, you know? This is his kitchen in his apartment in Silver Lake in Los Angeles.

Every morning Jay wakes up and he commutes ten feet from his bedroom into the living room. He sits at this desk and watches a lot of television and draws.  What’s the equivalent of chain-smoking, but Netflixed TV serials instead of cigarettes?  That’s what Jay does for hours on end as his characters come to life across loose leaf paper and sketch pads and torn-out pages of silly teenaged romance novels.  The figures’ characteristics are not unlike his: elongated with spaghetti for vertebrae, gangly and rattled, plus bearing a prominent schnozz.  But!!! friendly and familiar and always open to a fun time.

Jay Howell uses acrylics and spray paint to render his universe.

The book thing started because he was already dreaming up ridiculous, made-up novels as backdrops for his character work.  Then he realized that the books existed in real life, so he sourced them and re-appropriated the pages between.   You may remember some of the final pieces being featured in the Fecal Face show up north.

Jay did an awesome t-shirt for us that’s available now in limited quantities.

Today I got to see the original artwork for our collaboration together.  This is one of my favorite artist projects we’ve done with The Hundreds just because I’m such a fan of Jay Howell’s work.

And this is a bike that’s in the process of becoming very cool: a project with GT.

Behind it is one of the series of snowboards he made with Burton.

Like I said, Jay watches a lot of television but he also has fine taste in music.

Jay is constantly apologizing for his “boring life.”  (It’s not nearly boring).  And then Jay is constantly apologizing for Street Dog. It’s like he already reads your frustration over this hyperactive mutt, so he fires off preemptive strikes like “He’s not usually like this!” or “He’ll warm up (once he bites off your fingers).”  But Street Dog is a sweet dog and Jay is a rad host.  He’s a little edgy and there’s the nerves.. but when he channels that into his work, the result is a captivating, energetic universe.

I didn’t even realize so many of these collaborations existed.  Dream projects with Anti-Hero:

The “Jew-lien Stranger” landed him in a little bit of hot water, but it was worth it.  Awesome.

And then there was the Trash Talk x Creature collaboration that also resulted in this epic music video.

Jay takes that photo of Picasso everywhere he moves.  The artist, chillin’ like a bawse, his legacy and conquests surrounding him.  It’s great motivation.

Silver Lake is home to Los Angeles’ creative community.  Northwest of downtown, the hipsters, displaced Lower East Side dilettantes, and SF transplants, chase their passions to this diverse neighborhood.

To accommodate the forward-thinkers, Silver Lake has got some great places to eat, like Local, an organic, locally-sourced restaurant serving delectable fare like this vegan club sandwich and lemonade.

After lunch we walk back in the direction of Jay’s studio and further down the path to Jim’s house.  Jim, the dude I mentioned before, the clever animator who mobilizes Jay’s drawings.  Jim lives here, facing the noisiest leg of Silver Lake Blvd., in a sterile apartment that looks frozen in time. I ask him if it’s a fake place and he laughs.  (I think it’s a fake place)

He keeps Jay’s past ‘zines and books around.  He sells some of them, including Jay’s first book Negatron, HERE.

Jim then takes me through the process, from Jay’s illustrations which are scanned into Photoshop and dismantled, then mixed with After Effects.  Jim didn’t intend to be an animator, he had always imagined himself a documentarian.  But the pay is undeniable and he’s having too much fun, so he’s sticking with it, working on projects with everyone from Neckface to Skinner to Vans.  He really wants this Nickelodeon show to take off.

So Jim and Jay are a team.  Jim blindly reached out years ago as a fan, and Jay responded to his e-mail in a drunken stupor by asking if he was looking for money and that he didn’t have any.  Somehow they made it work, created incredible cartoons, moved to Los Angeles, and are staying insanely busy living the dream. T E A M W O R K !

Of course the greatest work of all isn’t in 2-D, it’s right here in real life.  Jay and Street Dog.  You couldn’t write a funnier show.

by bobbyhundreds

The first time I met Jon Buscemi, it was outside of a party at Union, and I was genuinely intimidated by the guy.  He was a mountain of a man, eclipsed by an oversized Yankee fitted pulled low, with a voice as loud and big as his personality.  That was back when the native New Yorker was still putting in work at DC Shoes, and that’s also around the time the genesis for a new brand sparked.

The idea was this: firstly, an homage to his Italian heritage and appreciation for the cuisine (as evidenced by the name) and secondly, a footwear line that took cues from classic sportswear and fashion pieces and upped them with a contemporary twist.

In the mid-2000s, he discovered that two other bald-headed, Italian-American, streetwear design luminary friends (Greg Lucci and Greg Johnsen) shared a similar brand concept – the three partnered up, all with the understanding that it was their own individual idea – and opened the house of Gourmet:

Since then, Buscemi has become a good friend, a reliable friend, of The Hundreds. And that’s not so outlandish considering he’s loved by all.  He’s a character – all 3 of these guys are – and ripe for a reality show. (In fact, the pilot for one does exist in this world, reluctantly shelved because it was produced at the same time another Italian-American reality show unexpectedly lit up the airwaves…)

This morning we are sitting in Gourmet’s office and creative space in Hollywood.  The early daylight filters through the front windows, broken up by the movement of luxury automobiles, aspiring actors, and big-ticket callgirls sewing up a ruptured night.  It’s the promised land of broken dreams and the gnat-ridden Wisconsin license plates are proof of that.  In the heart of L.A.’s greasy underbelly, Gourmet comes together one stitch, one premium leather, one meticulous design concept at a time.

Greg Lucci is an enigma all his own.  Guarded by heavy sunglasses and a flashy exterior, the gruff Bostonian is scarce on words, but loud on resumé: a background that consists of the legendary Chaos skate shop, Rosasen, and Zoo York, where he acted as Vice President.  His design influence is found in all the nooks and crevices of your Streetwear drawers, yet you’d never know it. Because like I said, Lucci lets his work do the talking for him.

Exhibit A:

Exhibits B-E:

Somehow Buscemi packs 300+ pounds into little-man vehicles.  Puzzling.

Gourmet is shoes, but Gourmet is also Italian-American life.  We walk around the corner to Café Med for nothing short of an authentic Italian meal. By happenstance, we’re next door to buildings featured in “Scarface.”

Buscemi and Lucci are accompanied by longtime friend, Gino Iannucci.  The storied skateboarder is the athlete of lore, barnacled by past transgressions but still as fervently amazing at his craft as ever.  As the skate world anticipates a splashy return, Gino sits on years of priceless video footage that’s prepared to set everyone else back a notch.

Al dente flat noodles, generously tousled in a creamy tomato sauce. This is the tagliatelle at Café Med, and comes highly recommended by Buscemi. The bons vivants are trustworthy with the eats, especially when it comes to their own.

Smoke break.

And a quick layover at Buscemi’s house where he lives with his wife and son.

I kid you not, we’re watching “Drumline.”

Of all the novelties and collectibles in this house, this might be the best.  A little bit of Streetwear history, Gino immortalized by Freshjive’s 12″ Seditionist action figures.  The Mike York figure was also ill.

Just a stone’s throw from Buscemi’s digs is his friends’ boutique, Feal Mor.

JP (not pictured) launched this boutique with his wife Shaheen (here photographed with Sarah). Translated as “No land, no borders, only faithful to the sea,” the shop not only showcases the Feal Mor collection, but vintage, and friends’ creations that all relate to JP’s interests and lifestyle as an internationally-minded curator and artisan.

The guys are here as friends, as fans, looking to be inspired, looking to partake.

One of Feal Mor’s signature pieces, the peacoats with contrasting plastic zippers.

The Feal Mor kids’ collection is just as eminent.

And Buscemi plays father first.

Support the creative doers, the ones who change the game from the outside.  Support independent brands like Gourmet.

by bobbyhundreds

Moving pictures of our day with Steve Berra, onset with Pepper in downtown Los Angeles:

This isn’t a story about skateboarding.  It’s a story about a skateboarder.  This is a story about Steve Berra.

On this day, just like any other day, he begins here.

Here, in his house in Hollywood, California. It’s not very well lived-in, it feels staged and bare.  Here, Steve Berra begins, with no TV, emotionally reeling mere hours after his 18-year-old daughter walked out of her room, rest her hands on his shoulders and flatly stated “Dad, I’m moving out.”  Not just out of the house, but out of the city, out of the state.  Leaving Steve out of his mind.

“This is the worst day of my life.”

Cafe Gratitude is nearby.  Everyone knows him here, all the buoyant waitresses and busboys give a nod, a wink.  This is his Cheers or Peach Pit (or Max), but he’s soon absorbed by his text messages and another unfolding maelstrom of personal relationships and emotional matters.  Today he is coordinating a project with a new upstart agency he’s founded, working on creative endeavors with the likes of DC’s Ken Block and RED.  On top of all this, Steve, along with skateboarding legend Eric Koston, helms probably the most prolific skateboarding media on the planet, The Berrics.

We talk about skateboarding.  I guess we talk more about skateboarders.  Me, I’ve intentionally distanced myself from as much of the skateboarding industry as I can. Not because of hate, but because I love skateboarding so much and am tired of confusing heroes with villains.  I’d like to remain a fan.  Skate, like street, is a dog-eat-dog community, primarily dominated by male ego and hubris.  The relationships, and breakdowns of such, suffer from the politics and backbiting.

But Steve Berra is the exception, not the rule. He’s always been a cool, regular guy to me, as a teenaged follower, now as a professional peer.. And that goes a long way in defining success. Not just by career, but of personhood.

The business end of The Berrics lives downtown in a cold, mildly azoic, facility.  Behind every door, there’s a desk, a computer, and another skateboarder.  These skateboarders work diligently on maintaining the #1 skateboarding website on the Internet.  And whether they like it or not, every skateboarder in the world – if they don’t check it twice a day – well, they’re keenly aware of it.  That’s how big and influential The Berrics is.

Outside waits Pepper.  I can’t exactly say he’s homeless (you’ll find out why, later) and I really can’t say he’s poor and destitute.  He’s sound and coherent and maybe the happiest person I’ve met in a while.  This man is rich with life and joy.

Pepper is the mayor of Skid Row.  He can’t move 500 feet downtown without whistles and shout-outs; they come from all directions, the confines of cardboard boxes and street corner hookers and lackadaisical police officers parked curbside.  Even Saber made a mini documentary on Pepper.

As it turns out, Pepper is the subject of Steve’s project this afternoon, a piece for RED, some kind of chronicle on Pepper’s life.

For the next hour and a half we navigate the serpentine halls of Skid Row and San Julian out the back of a moving car, verbally accosted, mean-mugged, lives threatened by downtown’s dwellers.  But Pepper keeps the barks from bites, he’s the star today.  ”I’ve always been the star!” he proclaims to the streets.

Now it’s Steve’s turn to play catch-up.

The Los Angeles River is webbed by a series of historical bridges built in the early 1900s. Some of the most recognizable have been subject to car commercial shoots and explosive movie chase scenes.

But one, in particular, is home to Pepper.  Every night the urban nomad returns to this arch a half-mile down the bridge, disconnected from civilization, his head lying less than ten feet from semi-trucks barreling down the road.

Steve directs.

It’s been a long day.

Some awesome light this afternoon.  A perfect day for filming.

I guess this encapsulates Steve’s day.  Or life.

After dinner, Steve wants to show me (and you) The Berrics’ new home, offices and park combined.  It’s a massive space, clean, ideal for events, and plenty more room to ride.  Set to open within the next few months…

Next level.

From skateboarder to actor, filmmaker, entrepreneur, businessman, visionary… I really enjoy watching my friends elevate and excel in their game.  The movers and shakers like Berra are the reasons why I get up every morning. I want to be like this dude, do what he’s done, think young, piss off the old guard, setup the upset, upset the setup. Win.

The night winds down at Giovanni Ribisi’s house.  The accomplished actor and Berra have been friends for almost two decades and they’re trying to piece something together.  There’s lots of discussion, a sharing of ideas; creation.

Skateboarding is a story of its skateboarders.  Skateboarding is a story of Steve Berra.

by bobbyhundreds

Had an epicly delicious meal at Cafe Gratitude this afternoon and walked right into Pete and Yasi outside.  Yasi – you remember Yasi – well, now she’s gone and started an online magazine of her own: Cultist Zine.  Everyone’s talking about it so don’t get left behind. Cultist Zine.

by bobbyhundreds

If you’re a fan of dance music and electronic culture, Pasquale should be familiar.  The founder of Insomniac puts on such events as Electric Daisy Carnival and Nocturnal Wonderland; he’s pretty much the leader of the entire movement, mainstream and underground.

The Jenn Klein and TK prove that love is blond.

by bobbyhundreds