This week’s topic for Illustration Friday is imaginary friend. I hope the image speaks for itself, it was a lot of fun to make. As always click on my contact page if you want to buy a print of any of my illustrations on this website.
I fell in love with Hong Kong, when I was wandering through the alleyways and navigating the circumspect and meandering hallways of its endless apartment blocks. The city present infinite options for those looking to get lost. It’s an artist and photographer’s dream, an urban kaleidoscope. There are people everywhere, at all hours, usually ignoring you and your camera.
The city has that odd dreamless quality that Manhattan used to have, before Giuliani kicked out all of the homeless and itinerant people and turned New York City into a tourist attraction. It never feels safe at night, there is always an element of discord, but it’s beautiful and shocking in how it surprises.
The odd juxtapositions, of rich and poor, foreigners, ex-pats, Cantonese speaking locals and the influx of mainland Chinese speaking Mandarin makes Hong Kong an incredibly diverse and miscegenated city. The intense competition for real estate on a tiny island keeps the price of owning a home out of the reach of most, but that is in turn what leads to the maze-like halls and paths of the city’s clustered apartment, stacked and teetering like so many matchboxes over above the bay.
As always, all my illustrations are available for purchase as prints. If you see one you like, contact me. Thanks for reading, and get in touch.
This post is for the bibliophiles. If you find yourself wandering around the stacks of a second hand bookshop in a city you don’t live in, after midnight and a few glasses of wine, this post is for you. Title is self-explanatory.
1.Shakespeare and Company, Paris, France
Obviously, this is the sexiest bookshop in the world, the history of Joyce, Stein, and Hemingway. The inspiration and setting of many a Hollywood romance, if you haven’t been you’re missing out. Also, Sylvia Beach was a legitimate groundbreaking and rule breaking publisher, which is beautiful in and of itself.
2. Cafe Pendulo, Mexico City, Mexico
Cafe Pendulo is a booklover’s wet dream, a place where you can have a cappuccino or a glass of wine. There is a veritable hanging garden and incredible collection of Spanish language and foreign books; also, the location in Polanco has got to be one of the poshest bookstore in the world.
3. Munro Books, Victoria, BC, Canada
This one is a bit of an outsider, like Canada, it’s a bit drab and plain, housed in a turn of the century bank converted by the Munro husband and wife. Munro Books is famous now for its former shopkeep, short story writer of New Yorker and later Nobel laureate notoriety, Alice Munro. It is a bit out of the way, and beautiful in a very understated Canuck way, but if you find yourself on Vancouver Island, it is worth a visit every time.
4. Spoonbill & Sugartown Booksellers, Brooklyn, NY, USA
This is one that probably shouldn’t have made this list, and definitely wouldn’t have made the list, if it was someone else’s list, but I love the place. Less well known than the bigger Strand on Broadway, these lovely booksellers in the heart of hipster Williamsburg always have a gorgeous collection of art and coffee table books, and there’s usually another cute page flipper or two around, to catch eyes with while you peruse.
5. City Lights, Chinatown, San Francisco
If this list were about the best, or most valuable or important bookstore in the world, I would definitely have City Lights Bookstore at number one. Home to the readings of Kerouac and Ginsberg and the Beat Generation’s founding publisher, Lawrence Ferlinghetti has a street named after him, and if you’re lucky you might still see him hobbling around North Beach. It’s not just a venerable institution, though, the upstairs reading room, looking across Jack Kerouac alleyway at his old haunt, Vesuvio’s bar, really is beautiful.
The wildcard: Libreria Acqua Alta, Venice, Italy
I’ve never been to Libreria Acqua Alta, but by all accounts it is the bookstore of mine and your dreams. Gorgeous, on the canals of Venice, you can drift lazily up, ferried by a gondola to the front door, with espresso in hand, to have you pick of the day’s paperbacks.
This a trip I’ve taken a half dozen times or so in the last decade. It can be absolutely magical, or it can be you stuck in a cramped eurovan with people puking out the window. I don’t think there is a rhyme or reason. But the views from San Jose del Pacifico, so named because you’re supposed to be able to see 120 kilometers to the ocean from the top of the mountain, make the drive worthwhile. You can fly if you want, but don’t believe the nonsense about a “big highway under construction to the coast”, connecting Oaxaca city to Puerto Escondido. This is bullshit, they’ve been talking about it for a decade or so, and if it eventually happens, it will ruin some of the appeal of Puerto Escondido by mobbing the small city with crowds of local tourists.
You can catch minibuses from any number of companies, all of which leave pretty early, stop a bunch on the way, and have parking garages where they depart a few blocks from Oaxaca’s centro.
Oaxaca is a beautiful city, so if you never want to leave, don’t bother. But there are parts of Puerto Escondido, especially around Las Puntas that have great, laid back, zero fucks beach vibes.
If you’re driving yourself, you can stop in a few towns known for art, black barro negro ceramics and alejibres are both made in Oaxacan villages. There isn’t much too see on the road before you hit the mountains, but most drivers will stop somewhere for a snack, usually fruit or packaged goods, maybe a home cooked meal at a stand. Through the mountains, if you don’t get swallowed up in the frequent fog and the torrents of rainy season, there will be gorgeous vistas peaking out from hairpin turns and switchbacks that cut up the ascent.
There are regular pick-ups and drop-offs, as many of the villagers this far south in the state don’t own vehicles, and have to rely on the transports to get to work, or to go into town for doctors, markets and any kind of entertainment.
As always, all my illustrations are available for purchase as prints. If you see one you like, contact me. Thanks for reading, and get in touch.
I’m feeling very tired and unhealthy after a long week, but I am really happy with how my illustration friday turned out this week for the ‘health’ topic. I chose to do a yab yum tantric illustration, which to me was the picture of health, Buddha, nirvana and ecstasy. So enjoy your health and your weekend and this:
I’ve been experimenting with different animations and styles variations for the last little while. Also, been wanting to share some Pascal ‘Spicy P’ Siakim art for a minute. He’s exploded from an off the bench option into a lethal triple threat starter for the Raptors in his third year. The whole city loves it when Spicy P goes to the rim and shakes and bakes with his patented extra spicy spin move, and today is his 25th birthday!! Happy Birthday Spicy P Pascal Siakim! Toronto loves you man, thanks for the hard work.
I was having a tough time figuring out what to illustrate for this week’s illustration friday, until I watched the new Game of Thrones trailer. Then I knew immediately. Tyrion in the dungeon. It was just a matter of deciding, which of the many scenes of him in a dungeon best suited. I’ve always been a huge fan of Peter Dinklage, he can be hilarious and infuriated, serious and snappy, even when he’s playing himself. The guy is an incredible actor, so I got really excited about heightening and exaggerating his already emotive and expressive face in this scene.
I’d been thinking about making the trek up to the Beijing 798 Art District for my entire week in the old city. I spent most my hours circling around the historical remnants of ancient empire, which was gorgeous but obviously collecting dust under the museum glass within the old city’s walls. Then I wandered the traditional hutongs in search of what it meant to be a Beijinger today, looking for bars or noodle houses that would shed some light on a completely different culture than the one that had raised me, I was curious to see the new or edgier parts of the city, or to find out if they even existed.
Where were the youth and the upstarts hiding? So far I’d only seen them at the immense nightclubs, getting out of flashy Italian cars at valet stands and disappearing into VIP rooms.
I didn’t know much about 798 Art Zone, (Chinese: 798艺术区; pinyin: 798 Yìshùqū). It was about an hour or so north east of central Beijing, about fifteen or twenty kilometers away – too far for a moped rental, and too expensive for a taxi. But the subway in Beijing is full of bilingual signage and easy to navigate, as long you don’t travel during the immense crush of rush hour.
789 Art Zone started out as an artist collective in army factory 798. After it had fallen out of use, the artists moved into the cheaper and abandoned industrial zone. It’s a pattern of urbanization that happens all over the world: old meatpacking districts in Toronto and New York have gentrified, likewise the infrastructure of former government industry in Berlin and Beijing and Poland has become cool and desirable after its property value plummeted.
I’d heard that at one time Ai WeiWei and all the international Chinese art stars of his generation had got their start in the district, but it was currently occupied by international gallerists who’d moved in and were making a killing selling to the nouveau riche of Beijing. If you didn’t know, Beijing currently has more billionaires than any city in the world. There is more than enough buying power to support a thriving art market. But I’d also heard that the famously inconspicuous eviction notices, which appear before rezoning, had started popping up in the 798 Art Zone.
What I found was interesting, almost like a fine art community, but community is the wrong word. It was more like a showroom, a grand outdoor fair, or an elaborate centerpiece to show off to a new guest. Tons of galleries packed in a walkable 6 or 7 block area. No traffic and pedestrians strolling and relaxing on the patios of restaurants and casual bars. In other words, totally unlike the rest of Beijing, it felt like a Western art theme park.
Lots of the galleries are big names, PACE, Ullens and bla bla bla to name a few, and there was, to be fair, lots of beautiful work being shown and, of course, sold. Leaning into the tags on the walls, it wasn’t out of the question to see prices in six figures, which is admirable. I respect an artist getting their share of a cultural glut and financial windfall. But I was left wondering just exactly who or what was the main draw at 798 Art Zone?
Go see for yourself. 2 Jiuxianqiao Rd, Chaoyang Qu, Beijing Shi, China, 100096
All illustrations on my website are available for purchase. Message me through the form on my Contact page for pricing, sizes and shipping info.
When I first moved to Mexico, I was broke. Not like, I was only eating tacos and drinking six packs of beer and staying in hostel dorm rooms, I mean literally, I had no money. I was young, in my twenties, and I had saved a few hundred dollars in cash doing odd jobs after winning a scholarship to write a book, which I never finished. I decided to go by train south from Canada to Mexico, mostly because I was going through my first really bad breakup and, also, because I didn’t respect myself enough to care what happened.
My heroes were the poets of the beat generation, Kerouac, Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, and their crew. I knew that they had all at various times escaped the realities of America by heading south. I was enamored by the Infrarealists of Mexico City, who roamed the streets of Distrito Federal at night, slept all day, then wrote poems at the cafes every evening. I would do the same. My first stop was El Paso, Texas. I decided not to cross over to Juarez direct from the train station because the lineup of Mexican labourers on day visas returning home was too long. It was nearly sundown, the light low over that famous bridge to Juarez, which was more dangerous and violent than Iraq at the time.
I met some homeless, punk girls from Kentucky, and we had a few beers at a truck stop bar, then went to a parkette across from a Bank of America that was being gutted, post-2008 crash, and drank from the gallon of honeyshine they’d brought from home. Some local meth heads came by to smoke and started a scrap with us after trying to steal a knapsack. I ended up in a rundown flop house, sleeping with my cash rolled up in my fist and my clothes on. If I hadn’t heard about the ‘Couchsurfing‘ website, from a young drifter who’d been crashing on a boat in San Francisco, I have no idea what I would’ve have ended up doing. My first few months in Mexico, I was blessed with free beds and I subsisted entirely on bananas and instant coffee, both of which cost pennies.
The point is, I spent years in Mexico, eventually learning the language, living in a house full of college students and artists it was hard not to become fluent with a little patience. I fell in love, got a job teaching English at a small college, and later, much later, became comfortable enough that I could afford to do the expensive, touristy things that most travelers do everyday on their holidays. It’s hard for me to say if El Balcon de Zocalo is actually as good as I feel, but I love it. It’s a sentimental spot for me. It’s on a rooftop, at the height of excess, it’s full of “rich” people, and foreigners. But it does, without a doubt, have my favourite view of the Cathedral and Zocalo looking through a porthole. And it’s one of those places, where the Chef has clearly decided that every plating has to be equally as beautiful as the environment, which speaks to me as an aesthete. I’m a sucker for beauty, and the food here is beautiful.
Whether it’s dressed up octopus tacos, tacos de pulpo, or breakfast, avena y semillas con frutas, or one of their many gorgeous salads, this restaurant aims to make the guest feel luxurious. It serves cocktails on wood blocks, and tacos on marble slates. It’s one of those places that was instagrammable before photo apps were a thing. So, if that’s your thing, and you’re a selfie shark, then you should at least stop by for a light lunch.
On my first visit, I was with a rich friend from Vancouver, whose parents have oil & industry money. He treated me to guacamole peppered with grasshoppers, and overpriced Coronas, while we watch a youth soccer match. I was being spoiled, and I enjoyed it. Since then, I have returned many times over the years, my girlfriend once got violently ill after ordering raw tuna here, but in general, it’s a bad look to order raw fish in a landlocked Southern city.
In a sentence, if you want a nice setup for your photo collection, and you want to be pampered a little, El Balcon de Zocalo is your spot. But skip the fish, there’s two coasts in Mexico, and the city ain’t on either. Unless, you can get a reservation at Contramar.
Prints of all the illustrations on this website are available for purchase, please use the Contact page form to contact me directly for pricing, sizing and shipping information.