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Steampunk convention tinkers mightily

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Steampunk has been described as a “step sideways in time.” It’s certainly not a regressive subculture- one peek at the kinds of clockwork corsetry and hydraulics operated moving machines that steampunk tinkerers fashion will convince you of that- but rather, a rethinking of where technology could have led us. It’s a topic that’s figuring prominently in the minds of many these days, which means this year’s New Albion Steampunk Exhibition (begins Fri/12) promises to be more whiz-bang than ever.

Picture, if you will, a mass of punks and nonconventional individuals in Victorian garb and laboriously created wings, monocles, wrist weaponry and whatnot, all milling about to waltz music in a very conventional hotel convention space. Surely, unsuspecting squares of Emeryville will be freaked.

Three tracks will guide tinkerers through the exhibition; one for DIY-ers, one for those with an ear for scholarly discussions of steampunk and another that focuses on the give-and-take of expert panel discussions on the culture. Participants can also pick and choose among the bounty- after all, who could miss discussions on steampunk philosophy featuring the movement’s great literati, James Blaylock? Or a rundown of the history of man powered submarines, classes on leather working, the regal history of steampunk, a panel who will dissect and illuminate “steampunk garb for life on a budget,” a look at the observatory as “science temple”, a museum of curiousities? Impossible, you must go to all.

After the learning, ballrooms galas and drink and meets will keep participants busy, just like at any other convention. Well, except for the fact that this gala will include prizes for the “most workable wearable invention” and meet and greets will center around self propelled three story Victorian houses and feature drinks served by robots.

Just a simple step sideways, really. 

Now Albion Steampunk Exhibition

Fri/12 (through Sun/14), $20-50

Hilton Garden Inn

1800 Powell, Emeryville

www.steampunkexhibition.com

Live Shots: San Francisco Bombers vs. Red Devils, Kezar Pavilion, 03/06/10

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Guardian photographer and writer Charles Russo sent over these pics of this Saturday’s roller derby match between the San Francisco Bombers and Brooklyn’s Red Devils.

Appetite: Taking vodka to the next level

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On February 22, 42 Below Cocktail Competition at the Regency Center was nicely spread out in two large rooms, plenty of space to taste and view bartenders make New Zealand vodka creations. Some of our best local talent competed to go to nationals, which take place in NYC, then on to finals which happen in 42 Below‘s native land, New Zealand.

It takes skill to bring layers of flavor out of vodka and this group delivered. Certainly, there were other spirits mixed in and some real creativity set to a rowdy, live rockabilly/punk band. Congrats to the two winners: Michael Callahan of Gitane, created a fresh, aperitif-like concoction using, among other things, lemon and fennel root. Josh Harris, of 15 Romolo, once again pulled a win with his nuanced “Bridge to Terabithia” (loved that book as a kid), which contained everything from his own fennel syrup to 42 Below’s Kiwi Vodka, dusted with masala chai.

Josh Harris goes for the win. Photo by Virginia Miller.

I loved straight-from-the-orchard apple freshness of Spruce’s Brandon Clements’ cocktail – his answer (or welcome antidote?) to Apple-tini requests. I commend the use of cherry jalapenos in Chase Williamson’s (of 21st Amendment) Wha Rua (“42″ in Maori).

My favorite was also the biggest adventure: Tavern at Lark Creek’s Joseph Parrilli’s Waggle Dance (name inspired by bee action) is a floral/sweet creation of vodka, Fever Tree ginger beer, wildflower bitters, Wedderspoon Manuka raw honey, topped with sugar-crusted, gold-dusted bees. Yes, bumble bees (stinger removed). I dove right in an ate one. Cute, crunchy, without much flavor, it’s kind of like eating a grasshopper, like I’ve had in Southeast Asia.

Chelsea Handler bang bangs

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Witness, if you will, the cast of the Jersey Shore‘s interview with Chelsea Handler. “I was excited to see what your body looked like in person, and I must admit I’m pleased,” Handler greeted Snookie, MTV’s bowling-ball-shaped Guidette. The host immediately progressed to feeling the neo Italian clan’s gel heavy coifs and commenting on Snookie’s famous roundhouse to the face made famous by the show.

It was an inspired conversation. The Jersey Shore cabal is blessed with a singular sense of humor about the deprecating whirlwind of fame that surrounds them these days, and Handler has built a career on being frank with her party girl lifestyle. After all, one of her three books was titled Are you there Vodka? It’s me, Chelsea. As the only female in the late night television game, lady’s got to be tough. And her show Chelsea Lately, a cross between the standard interview format and entertainment news hash-out, has carved a niche for itself based largely on Handler’s biting wit, self awareness and willingness to take it there. It continues to soar in ratings and ad revenue, even from its non traditional nest on the E! network. She’s bringing the noise to Davies Symphony Hall this weekend (Fri/12), so raise your glass to the lady of sass. 

San Francisco Bay Guardian: It’s already been quite the year. Which celebrity news story of 2010 have you had the best time covering on “Chelsea Lately”?

Chelsea Handler: I guess Tiger Woods. That story officially started in 2009, but it’s carried over into this year. He made my job easy for weeks. I didn’t need to think, I just needed to go on line and there would be a new VIP hostess telling yet another humiliating story about him giving her an extra big tip.

SFBG: Your upcoming stand up show sold out real fast in SF- so fast you scheduled a second. The gays just love them some Chelsea, don’t they?

CH: I think they all assume deep down I’m a lesbian. Which I’m not…unless you count college, which I didn’t even go to.

 

SFBG: Is this what you wanted to be when you grew up?

CH: I just knew I wanted to leave New Jersey. I couldn’t handle my father humiliating me anymore. I figured I’d either do something in the entertainment industry or take over for Julie McCoy on the Love Boat. I just always wanted to sit on the Captain at the Captain’s table. Once that dream died, I went for plan B…not the morning after pill; my actual plan B.

 

SFBG: I just got done reading “Memoirs of a Beatnik” by Diane di Prima and the author was sharing her sex life in explicit detail even back then in the 1960s. Will the kind of sexually up front, unapologetic humor that you do ever NOT be considered shocking, coming from a woman?

CH: I don’t think so. For some people, sure…but there will always be a large percentage of people who think a woman shouldn’t talk so openly about those things. I just disagree. Once I figured out what I could pull off in a room by myself, I knew finding a boy to do it with could only make my discovery that much better. Why wouldn’t I want to talk about it? If talking about sex saves at least one virgin in her late twenties from carrying out that whole “not before marriage” thing, then my work is done.

 

SFBG: I read an online review of “My Horizontal Life” that suggested the book might “inspire bad girls to more bad behavior”- but what is a ‘bad girl,’ nowadays?

CH: The only “Bad Girls” I know are the one from that Oxygen show, and they seem really annoying.

 

SFBG: Your show devotes a large amount of time to celebrity news, or rather, to mocking our obsession with celebrity news. Has there ever been a time when you’ve felt the brunt of paparazzi or had a ridiculous story about you hit the news?

CH: Perez Hilton once reported that I had vaginal rejuvenation surgery. So, there’s that.

 

SFBG: How do you get the celebrity guests on your show to get off the talking points they walked in with?

CH: The person that prepares the interview usually lets the guest know that I like to talk about things that wouldn’t normally be talked about on other late night shows. I think they’re usually prepared for my sense of humor. I don’t necessarily want to know about somebody’s new role in a movie, but I would like to know how they got their body or who they porked on set. So I just ask.

 

SFBG: You’re not exactly tip-toeing around a lot of your guests’ egos on the show- has anyone ever had an adverse reaction to your brand of humor?

CH: Probably, but that’s why I don’t read my e-mails.

 

Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang Tour

Fri/12 10:30 p.m., $49.50- 75.50

Davies Symphony Hall

201 Van Ness, SF

(415) 864-6000

www.livenation.com

Zaccho Dance keeps it in the family

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Thirty years of surviving and thriving in an area as competitive as dance, and twenty year of community involvement is more than enough of a reason for a party. Let’s say a big gala with invited donors who can help balance the budget? A retrospective of what has gone well? Nope. That’s not how Joanna Haigood’s head works. For her, it’s a reason for “Family Day,” an open house for the community with classes for the youngest and those a little stiff around the edges. So how about Movement and Storytelling for kids, hip-hop for teens, a Dance Work Out for a sedentary parent, and Circus Art for grandma. She won’t swing from the trapeze, but her spirit will get a boost. Each 45-minute class starts on the hour, and food and refreshments are provided.

Sat/6, 10 a.m.-4 p.m., free

Zaccho Dance Theatre Studio

1777 Yosemite, Studio 330, SF

(415) 822-6744

www.zaccho.org

 

 

Elmwood emerges

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By Robyn Johnson

After months of restoration, the corner space that used to be Ozzie’s Soda Fountain has finally opened this week to reveal an upscale French-style cafe. While many may lament the closure of Berkeley’s last soda shop in favor of a yet-another coffee joint, Elmwood Cafe does offer something quite unique. According to the little paper pamphlets available on the counter, the shop will donate half of its profits to charities. I’m really excited (and curious) how this business model will work out in the long run.

I was also charmed by the bright, cheery interior—the owner decided to keep as much of the original 1920s architectural details as possible, right down to the red stools that line the counter—and, of course, the food. With quite a few Cafe Fanny veterans at the helm, the conscientious menu reflects that establishment’s renown for the healthful, hearty, and organic. So be prepared for dishes like porridge, paninis, soups, salads, and stews.

I tried the cappuccino—good but nothing totally remarkable—and the cranberry coffee cake, the customer (and barista) favorite so far. It truly was tasty, with a delicate, crunchy top speckled with powdered sugar and a rich yellow cake that enveloped gobs of tangy cranberry.

The only foreseeable issue is the relatively high price (the cappuccino and coffee cake set me back about $7), but considering half your expenditure goes to charity, it might be a worthy treat.

Elmwood Cafe
2900 College, Berk
(510) 843-1300

Tying one on with Dave Attell

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Dave Attell had my dream job. In the Comedy Central series, Insomniac, from 2001-2004, Attell took the typical travel show concept and gave it a degenerate edge, showcasing the people and places that come alive in towns across the country after midnight. The show was a smash hit in its own right… but I think he’s tired of talking about it now. So more importantly, he’s a super sharp stand up comedian with a rather dead pan manner and a knack for making hecklers feel like fools. He rocks the USO circuit on the regular, but he’s doing a civilian show on a stage near you shortly (Fri/12 & Sat/13, Cobb’s Comedy Club). He asked me to let y’all know that he’ll be performing new materials- so all the real comedy fans, come out and play.

San Francisco Bay Guardian: So we’re all really stoked you’re coming to San Francisco…

Dave Attell: I love SF. That’s where I started headlining. That’s probably where I’m going to end headlining, too. I have nothing but good thoughts about SF- even though now that it’s all fancy and PC it’s not as fun anymore, everyone knows that.

SFBG: How long have you been doing standup?

DA: Twenty years.

SFBG: Oh yeah, some change has gone down then. The thing I keep reading about you is that you’re a comedian’s comedian. What does that even mean?

DA: It means you can’t act. I can’t. I’m a horrible actor. I like jokes, I like writing jokes. But yeah, I don’t really know what that means. It’s a compliment, I hope.

SFBG: Has your comedy matured/grown over time? New themes?

DA: That’s a great question and the answer is no. Being in your mid forties and still talking about drinking and porn, I’d say the answer is no. I’m a good comic, not a great comic.

SFBG: Who, in your eyes, are?

DA: There are so many great comics. Everyone says Richard Pryor, George Carlin, which is true. The longer I do comedy, I realize it’s hard to always come to the table enthused. Bill Hicks, who was an amazing, important part of SF comedy. He was another guy who was ahead of the curve. But I’m nothing like those guys, I go for dirty humor. I can spread the word about them, though! There’s so many new guys- and I know people don’t like dragging their ass out to a new club, but that’s how it’s supposed to be done, club experiences. Cobb’s is a club where you do that, where you can bring out the new material, it’s great. Every year or so I check in at Cobb’s. 

SFBG: I have to tell you, I have a not so secret dream to be a travel show host. I loved Insomniac, was that a fun project to work on?

DA: Yes. But I’m too old to be a travel show host, I’m a has been. I encourage you to go out and do it, though. We need to see a woman’s perspective. I would go to the Middle East. It’s rough out there, but there’s a few places where you can party. Abu Dhabi and Dubai. It’d be a lot of money, but…

SFBG: Dubai! All I always hear about are those apartment islands they’ve built in the shape of the continents.

DA: Well their economy is in the shitter too, so they’re not building land masses anymore. It’s weird for people who fear God to act like God. Building the earth, isn’t that his job?

 

“I realize it’s hard to always come to the table enthused.” 

SFBG: Were the cities featured ones you were familiar with before the show? How’d you scout the locations and people you talked to?

DA: I mean, it wasn’t magic. It was hit a bar, talk to folks, get a couple shots, roll out. The part no one talks about is the late night jobs. There’s a lot of shows that focus on different jobs now, but I think we were unique on that.

SFBG: Were there any jobs you featured that you could see yourself doing?

DA: Not the coal mine. I hate being trapped. The coal miners have these sleds that go into the mountain, and then after twelve hours they pull them out. I have serious claustrophobia, couldn’t do that. I’m not a big fan of the water either, so not the ocean jobs. Of course, [we did the show] back when there still were jobs.

SFBG: I hear you are a fixture on the USO circuit. What’s that like?

DA: Ah good, a new topic. I’ve done four shows in Iraq, five in Afghanistan. I don’t know if they’re going to want me back, I’m kind of dirty. But really, it’s hard for the troops because it’s really boring, but really, really dangerous. You get a perspective on what these people do and how cool they are. Everybody talks about how “amazing” they are, but they keep it low key, do their jobs, and then come back for more- some of these guys are doing second, third tours of duty. The Olympics, they fill you with pride, but the army… it does, more.

SFBG: Lots of different acts do the USO tour, right? Were you traveling with, like, a bunch of cheerleaders as well?

DA: Being in the USO, you get to see a lot of other acts. The last one I did was with Billy Ray Cyrus. We never would have met otherwise. The thing is there’s USO stuff going on all over the world and the people that do it are really, really cool. The USO has a small budget, its not a government thing, it’s privately funded. I mean, I’m really a nobody in that scene. Robin Williams, Dane Cook, they do it. That’s amazing. The troops, they’re in the dirt, the mud- and all of sudden they look up, and there’s a star.

SFBG: Do you have family that were in the military?

DA: My dad was in the Navy, he told me some great stories. He wasn’t a career man though. Retail was his real calling, him being a Jew.

SFBG: How’d you get into the USO gig?

DA: Why wouldn’t I? I’m too old to fight. I’m lucky to have the opportunity to go over there and do it. These are the times we live in. This is what we do during a war on terror, whether it’s wrong or right. It comes down to; either we have to end the war or I need to get more material.

SFBG: Or we need to get the draft going, new audiences, right?

DA: Right. What we should do, all the people that lose on the Biggest Loser, we should send out there. We should say ‘you can go on this show, but if you lose you have to go to war.’

SFBG: Or how about all the reality shows! There’s your draft.

DA: Right.

 

And so! Dave Attell and I = Problem. Solved.


Fri/12 & Sat/13, 8 p.m. & 10:30 p.m., $35.50

Cobb’s Comedy Club

915 Columbus, SF

(415) 928-4320

www.cobbscomedyclub.com

Uproot: Little City Gardens gots to get paid

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By Robyn Johnson

In a manifesto of sorts released by Civil Eats, Brooke Budner of Little City Gardens, co-owned by Caitlyn Galloway, lays out the farm’s intention to create San Francisco’s first for-profit urban micro-farm in that generates a viable income for farmers, thus paving the way for more potential urban farmers follow suit:
       
“Our approach to growing the urban agriculture movement is based upon the premise that urban food production will not reach its full potential unless there are avenues in the local market economy for growers to make a living through the sales of their produce. Currently, San Francisco’s urban agriculture is largely anchored in the realms of education and non-profit work. While a substantial amount of food can be grown […] the quantity pales in comparison to what could be grown if farmers could earn a living wage through the cultivation and sales of food in the city.

She admits that the concrete details outside of their business plan are a little vague and that a time of trial and error lies ahead. But the energy behind their can-do-ness and optimism is infectious, and especially invigorating in these crisitunity-loaded times. With others exploring creative economics—take Mission Street Food’s radical new model relying upon 100 investors or even People’s Grocery alliance with for-profit grocery store in West Oakland—perhaps it’s time to be a little open to out-of-the-box possibilities.

Their fundraising campaign (they’ve been unable to apply for loans as an experimental business) has already met and exceeding its target by at least two months in advance. So clearly, the community has got their back.

What do you think? Can Little City Gardens foster a sustainable market for urban farms to thrive in San Francisco?

Trash Lit: Grafton’s craft in ‘U is for Undertow’

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U is for Undertow
Sue Grafton
Putnam. 403 pages, $27.95

I love the Sue Grafton books. I bought A is for Alibi in 1983, when it came out, and I’ve read every one of them since. Unlike, say, Patricia Cornwell, whose characters age (and get crabbier) as time passes, Kinsey Milhone is eternal, always young, always living in a town called Santa Teresa that’s a lot like Santa Barbara, always living with her old (but never dying) landlord, Henry, always eating at the foul Hungarian restaurant down the street. Milhone is a comfortable protagonist, never deeply tortured, but never exactly adjusted either, and even her OCD habits (locking her car – and telling us she locked her car – about 50 times a book) are endearing.

This one’s set in 1988, where Milhone is quite at home, and in 1963-1967, where Sue Grafton is less so. Grafton’s got a problem with hippie chicks – one of the central villains in U is for Undertow is a girl named Shelly who later changes her name to Destiny. She’s an almost embarrassing parody of how middle America saw flower children in the late 1960s – except that she appears in 1963, before there were a lot of real hippies about in the land. To make matters worse, she brags that she was part of the beat scene in San Francisco and slept with both Ferlinghetti and Ginsberg – which is fairly unlikely, even in fiction; I don’t know who Allen Ginsberg, a proudly gay poet, was fucking in 1963, but I don’t think there were many hippie chicks on the list.

The horror of the dirty girl is almost too much to believe! Destiny is living in a bus with the son of a respectable family who dropped out of college to join her – and she has a child by another man who’s left the picture! And she’s raising her child (gasp) a vegan! And he runs around naked! And she’s preggers again, this time with his kid, and she insists on natural childbirth! She is, of course, also a total beyotch, who doesn’t respect the mother of the once-nice-young-boy loser who is under her hippie-chick spell.

There’s other stuff I didn’t love in here – one young character, who hates his stepmom, gets in trouble at his fancy private school and is forced to transfer to the horrors of a public school, where he of course meets awful bad kids who corrupt him entirely and turn him into a druggie.

In and around all this, though, is a fascinating mystery. It involves two kidnappings from the ’60s, a guy who might or might not have fabricated repressed memories, a dead dog in a dead girls’ grave, and a tangled tale across three decades that weaves the lives of the good and the bad (and it’s deliciously hard to tell which is which) into a first-rate detective story.

We also along the way learn some new clues about Milhone’s past (great trivia about Aunt Gin for serious fans of the series) and get a couple of excellent Grafton comments about the important things in life:

“At the time, I’d introduced [cancer patient] Stacey to junk food, which he’d never eaten in his life. Thereafter, I tagged along with him as he went from McDonald’s to Wendy’s to Arby’s to Jack in the Box. My crowning achievement was introducing him to the In-N-Out Burger. His appetite increased, he regained some of the weight he’d lost during the cancer treatments, and his enthusiasm for life returned. Doctors were still scratching their heads.”

Hippie-chick sex. Hippie chick seduction of a high school kid. Sweet Kinsey-shoots-murderer scene. (“It’s only in the movies the bad guys keep firing. In real life, they sit down and behave.”) I almost gagged on the ’60s stuff, but I stayed up way past my bedtime to get to the end.

Gamer: “Heavy Rain” review

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By Peter Galvin

Heavy Rain
(Quantic Dream)
PS3

A new game where you wiggle and waggle your controller in time with on-screen prompts? No, it’s not a new Wii game. Heavy Rain for the PS3 is a dark thriller from the people who brought you the sleeper hit Indigo Prophecy. With the technology developers have at their disposal these days, it’s become feasible in many ways for games to truly resemble the cinematic experience of a feature film. Heavy Rain takes that idea one step further by playing out much like an interactive movie.

Players switch among four main characters as they unravel the identity of the “Origami Killer,” a psychopath who has been kidnapping children and drowning them in rainwater. Playing as multiple characters is essential not only in covering the amount of ground the game wants you to experience, but in making the game as choice-based as possible. Developer Quantic Dream boasts that the decisions you make as you play have heavy consequences affecting the game’s outcome. At particular moments, main characters can even die and the game will continue on without them. The killer is almost a MacGuffin for these choices, giving characters a reason to go from place to place and perform tasks.

All that sounds well and good, but whether or not it works is another matter. Despite trumpeting a new-found level of choice and consequence in the gaming world, Heavy Rain is actually not as singular an experience as you are led to believe. Time-based button prompts are the backbone of the gameplay, yet often a missed button prompt will have no real consequence. When I’m speeding down the wrong side of the freeway, dodging cars, and the game tells me to press right to not hit a road worker, I fully expect that messing that up will result in that person’s loss of life. Instead nothing happens. The game continues, as I expect it does for anyone, to the pre-determined conclusion.

How much this loss of choice affects your playing depends on how you approach the title. If you ignore the widely-publicized levels of choice and personalization that the game touts and choose instead to play the game as an interactive movie with Simon Says-style prompts to ramp up the intensity of the action, the game succeeds admirably. The story is intriguing and the many action-oriented scenes are tense and exciting. The on-screen prompts, no matter how simple or arbitrary, do personalize the player’s actions, increasing the unfolding drama — especially when those movements are 1:1. But as a groundbreaking experience about choice and consequence, Heavy Rain is all smoke and mirrors.

Appetite: Hungry for Oscar coverage

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Food lovers can be film lovers, too. So in an unconventional “Appetite” this week, we go to the Oscars. Despite unworthy nominees and a slew of lackluster films, as a lifelong film fanatic, I still relish the event every year. There’s fun in joining with like-minded film buffs and fashion hounds to rave and rant about all the missteps or underdogs who should have won. And I’ll take any excuse to dress up.

This year I’m hoping the dynamic duo hosting team of Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin will add some spark to the hours’ long telecast. I’m more skeptical about the first go-round of 10 Best Picture nominees, however. We may not be Hollywood, but SF still gets into the act with events to suit everyone: those who want to enjoy the Oscars in style and those who want to bash the hell out of them.

Old Hollywood Glamour at Top of the Mark
Pull out your vintage or evening gown attire for a night of “Old Hollywood Glamour” at Top of the Mark. With the glorious lights and waters of SF shimmering below, enjoy champagne, Tsar Nicoulai caviar and other hors d’oeuvres. There’s no admission cost, rather, you order a la carte off the regular menu or from special menus like “The Nominees Are…”, including a bottle of Piper Sonoma Brut and shrimp cocktails ($60), or “…the Oscar goes to”: Moet & Chandon Brut Imperial with 1 oz. of Tsar Nicoulai California Estate Osetra Caviar ($110). With friends or that special someone in tow, pretend you’re at the Oscars as you watch from two screens near the dance floor, mentally composing your own Oscar acceptance speech. 

Sun/7, 5-10pm

Top of Mark/InterContinental Mark Hopkins

One Nob Hill, SF

(415) 616-6916

www.intercontinentalmarkhopkins.com/top_of_the_mark

Up the Oscars Benefit Bash at the Roxie
For 18 years running, dingy but loveable Roxie Theater is the place for all you haters… or rather, true film buffs who can’t stomach the idea of James Cameron winning any more awards. With the playful moniker of “Up the Oscars Benefit Bash,” you’re actually encouraged to shout at the movie screen, critique gowns or choose sides on the Best Actor front (Firth or Bridges?) There’s prizes and a costume contest, so come in anything from Cher-like weirdness to favorite film character. Shawerma-type snacks will be provided by neighboring Truly Mediterranean, but you can also bring your own food and drink as it’s gonna get long. You’ll need your energy for expressing outrage that a movie lacking plot, acting or substance, could (once again) win Best Picture.

Sun/7, 3:45pm (Red Carpet at 4pm; Oscars at 5:30pm)

$12-$15

Roxie Theater

3117 16th St, SF

(415) 863-1087

www.roxie.com

Appetite: Hungry for Oscar coverage

0

Food lovers can be film lovers, too. So in an unconventional “Appetite” this week, we go to the Oscars. Despite unworthy nominees and a slew of lackluster films, as a lifelong film fanatic, I still relish the event every year. There’s fun in joining with like-minded film buffs and fashion hounds to rave and rant about all the missteps or underdogs who should have won. And I’ll take any excuse to dress up.

This year I’m hoping the dynamic duo hosting team of Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin will add some spark to the hours’ long telecast. I’m more skeptical about the first go-round of 10 Best Picture nominees, however. We may not be Hollywood, but SF still gets into the act with events to suit everyone: those who want to enjoy the Oscars in style and those who want to bash the hell out of them.

Old Hollywood Glamour at Top of the Mark
Pull out your vintage or evening gown attire for a night of “Old Hollywood Glamour” at Top of the Mark. With the glorious lights and waters of SF shimmering below, enjoy champagne, Tsar Nicoulai caviar and other hors d’oeuvres. There’s no admission cost, rather, you order a la carte off the regular menu or from special menus like “The Nominees Are…”, including a bottle of Piper Sonoma Brut and shrimp cocktails ($60), or “…the Oscar goes to”: Moet & Chandon Brut Imperial with 1 oz. of Tsar Nicoulai California Estate Osetra Caviar ($110). With friends or that special someone in tow, pretend you’re at the Oscars as you watch from two screens near the dance floor, mentally composing your own Oscar acceptance speech. 

Sun/7, 5-10pm

Top of Mark/InterContinental Mark Hopkins

One Nob Hill, SF

(415) 616-6916

www.intercontinentalmarkhopkins.com/top_of_the_mark

Up the Oscars Benefit Bash at the Roxie
For 18 years running, dingy but loveable Roxie Theater is the place for all you haters… or rather, true film buffs who can’t stomach the idea of James Cameron winning any more awards. With the playful moniker of “Up the Oscars Benefit Bash,” you’re actually encouraged to shout at the movie screen, critique gowns or choose sides on the Best Actor front (Firth or Bridges?) There’s prizes and a costume contest, so come in anything from Cher-like weirdness to favorite film character. Shawerma-type snacks will be provided by neighboring Truly Mediterranean, but you can also bring your own food and drink as it’s gonna get long. You’ll need your energy for expressing outrage that a movie lacking plot, acting or substance, could (once again) win Best Picture.

Sun/7, 3:45pm (Red Carpet at 4pm; Oscars at 5:30pm)

$12-$15

Roxie Theater

3117 16th St, SF

(415) 863-1087

www.roxie.com

Fatty Starbucks: Yet another reason to drink indie roasts

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By Robyn Johnson

Last week, Call Me Thirsty, a drink enthusiast blog, released a nutritional chart of the 10 fattiest Starbucks drinks. For those who have plugged their fingers into their ears in response to the consistent media coverage over the years about the caloric excessiveness of the Starbucks menu, the numbers can be quite eye-popping. (Be aware, though, that the chart refers to the venti size and opts for whole milk when applicable—Frappucinos are typically made with reduced fat milk, but all that cloying syrup, whipped cream, and chocolate more than makes up for it.) As a former Starbucks employee, and as supported by the chart, I can tell you straight off to avoid any drink with white chocolate syrup and most Frappucinos outside of the plain version—yes, you can order them plain and also without whipped cream. And let’s be honest, without all the bells and whistles Frappucinos are about as thrilling as a glass of Quik.

I don’t want to proselytize here too much and I think it’s obvious that like other fast foods places, Starbucks sells processed drink items that have questionable nutritional value. But for you diehard fans of the monster chain, consider exploring the complexities of coffee at local indie cafes and microroasteries like Blue Bottle, Ritual Roasters, Four Barrel, Philz, etc. Just sayin.

DC’s Newseum is a real headliner

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It’s a lot to take in for a cub reporter. Seven stories of news. 250,000 square feet of news. Just down the street from our country’s Capitol Building, the Newseum is probably the most comprehensive, evocative look at the power and responsibility of the journalist under one roof that our country has yet produced.

What’s so impressive about the museum? Put simply, breadth and depth. Today’s front pages from around the US and world greet you to the museum. Inside, you journey through a carefully sculpted continuum of information and artifacts.

First up, media coverage of events that changed the course of our country- beginning with the manhunt for Lincoln’s killer and continuing through instances of incisive reporting (the role that news played in broadcasting the civil rights movement) to dark moments (a memorial to reporters who’ve died in the line of duty, threats to our Bill of Rights over the years).

There were even shades of grey- best embodied in the interactive “What Would You Do?” ethics game, which lets you weigh in on real world moral dilemmas that professional journalists face. I’m totally one of those, so I thought it would be a snap. But there were no easy answers. When it came to the iconic photo of an emaciated Sudanese baby crawling away from a vulture, a heartbreaking image that nonetheless has raised awareness of the plight of refugees the world over, I had to admit I would have swooped in to help, scattered the scavenger, before setting up the shot. So would 72 percent of the general public- but only 28 percent of the professional journalists surveyed agreed with me. The photographer who snapped the shot, Kevin Carter, won a Pulitzer Prize for his efforts- but committed suicide soon after.

Again, the responsibility of the press, a lot to take in for the young pup. But a great museum, and one that, regardless of your profession, will make you feel something.

Graffiti covered pieces of the Berlin Wall are another of the Newseum’s highlights. This was the easiest museum ever to take photos in- freedom of the press, baby!

Sections of the lunch counter that figured in the Greensboro, North Carolina civil rights sit-ins are accompanied by a news reel on the movement

Daniel Pearl’s passport and laptop, testament to the risk journalists run to inform the world of it’s most dangerous conflicts

Not the place where you want to be right before closing, when the Newseum has all but emptied out… Ted Kaczynski’s Unabomber cabin is part of the “G-Men and Spies” temporary exhibit


555 Pennsylvania, Washington D.C.

Open: 9 a.m.- 5 p.m., $19.95

(888) 639-7386

www.newseum.org

Behind every good neighborhood…

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“Like a wild garden full of it’s own offerings” says Mission Muralismo editor Annice Jacoby of the neighborhood that gave birth to Balmy Alley, Carlos Santana and countless rolls in Dolores Park’s grassy knolls. The Mission’s street art really does bear fruit, and this Friday will be an excellent chance to check out the women behind all the flowering at the de Young’s “Muralistas: the Mission and the World,” a continuation of the museum’s tribute to the neighborhood’s art that began last year.

In a recent KQED interview, Jacoby told the story of a mural of a motorcycle riding “chiquita” mural that was painted off of 16th Street and Mission. With her “derriere” in the air, the skimply clad painting had offended some of the neighbors that lived by the display. The artist’s solution? Merely to plump up those panties “with a few strokes of the brush.” Chiquita covered, community’s calm restored.

The neighborhood’s community-art feedback loop will be the subject of Jacoby’s talk on Friday, as well as other artists’, like Juana Alicia, painter of the much loved La Llorona on the corner of 24th and York. The beloved, building sized piece used to evoke the dangers of pesticide use for the farming women and families of Latin America, but when water damage threatened the mural, Alicia chose to paint a new scene in the area. Instead of “redefining my own existence,” as the artist called the process of doing spot touch-ups on La Llorona, Alicia painted over the old piece with one that was more relevant to her today- La Lechugeras: Sacred Waters, which focuses on water security issues on a global scale.

Just in time for International Woman’s Day, Friday’s event at the de Young will highlight just these kinds of human ties to art. Also featured will be a talk by Mona Caron (of the stunning Duboce Bikeway Mural), live Pakistani music by Riffat Sultana, an all female live-painting mural collaboration, and a projection show on Wilsey Court of work by various female artists featured in Mission Muralismo. All this, coupled with the regular Friday nights at the de Young lineup of cash bars and free admission to the show, a masterpiece if we do say so. 

And the street art/high art love doesn’t stop here! Check out the de Young’s continuing tribute to Mission art. Next up: What’s So Funny: Mission Comix Style (April 2).

 

Friday Nights at the de Young presents “Muralistas: the Mission and the world”

Fri/5 5- 8:45 p.m., free

de Young museum

Golden Gate Park

50 Hagiwara Tea Garden, SF

www.famsf.org

Foam, creams, Commis, and me

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Oh, Commis, why couldn’t you have been holding down your current patch of Piedmont Avenue when I was spending much of my time in a teensy one-bedroom nearby? Then I could have swung by and experienced your wonderful food on a regular basis, that much sooner.

Here in this spare, elegant, moderne space, you get a three-course prix fixe, period — but what an often fabulous fix to be in. On a recent evening, I got to sample the dishes that earned Oakland native chef James Syhabout — a veteran of renowned molecular gastro epicenters El Bulli, the Fat Duck, and Mugaritz, as well as Coi and Manresa — a Michelin star. It’s the only one in the East Bay apart from Chez Panisse’s — and you can see, and taste, why the inspector was seduced.
The meal unfolded with a housemade soda and amuse-bouche: this time it was a light and lovely hibiscus and lime soda. The amuse-bouche: a much-commented-on regular that wittily mimicked a poached egg but subbed the white for an onion puree with a sprinkling of granola — it was a kind of unveiling, a brief tribute to breakfast, and you immediately yearned for more.

I coveted my neighbor’s incredibly complex, flavorful cabbage soup, poured over with a green garlic custard. It was much more interesting than my own appetizer: sweetbreads that were rich and meaty but not intriguing enough to surpass the soup. My entree, however, was all mine, thankfully: the duck, rare slices and shredded sections from the leg, was utterly delicious and perched on a bitter counterpoint of pureed parsnip. Black cherries and arugula offered small explosions of sweet and peppery flavor. I could take a pass on my savory dessert of warm Carmody cheese on a kind of pastry, accompanied by still more arugula — instead I would have gladly tucked away my dining companions’ delightful, refreshing panna cotta and chocolate tile with vanilla ice cream and yet more signature crunchy bits. The absinthe gelee made the perfect little finish. All said, Commis is challenging — as befitting Syhabout’s time with chefs like Ferdinand Adria (read: foam alert) — intense in its flavors and whimsical in its textures, at moments incredibly delicious, and an actual bargain at $59, judging from the epicurean ride you’re taken on.

COMMIS
3859 Piedmont Ave., Oakl.
(510) 653-3902
www.commisrestaurant.com

Chatting with “The Yellow Handkerchief” star Eddie Redmayne

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English actor and model Eddie Redmayne isn’t yet a household name, but he’s achieved rising star status with a string of much lauded roles in indie and mainstream films. After playing Edward Wilson, Jr. in The Good Shepherd (2006) and murderous son Tony in Savage Grace (2007), he returns to American film as colorful outcast Gordy in The Yellow Handkerchief. I spoke to Redmayne about getting a handle on his strange character, which meant doing road trip research and adopting a Southern drawl.

San Francisco Bay Guardian: The character of Gordy is a rather unusual one. How would you describe him to someone who hadn’t seen The Yellow Handkerchief?

Eddie Redmayne: Good question. I would say he is an open-hearted eccentric. He has spent his entire life as an outcast. He’s trying to find his own way, so he’s never fit in really. But he has an open heart, which is often misunderstood.

SFBG: So what drew you to the character?

ER: What drew me to the character was how utterly ridiculous it was that they would consider the idea of an English actor to play the part. When I read it, I thought that’s the most absurd thing in the world, I will never get it. So I went into the audition without a sort of care in the world, assuming that it was madness that they would consider me. I suppose what drew me to the part was how far from me he was.

SFBG: Is that a challenge for you, playing American parts? You’ve kind of shifted back and forth — do you see yourself doing more of that in the future?

ER: For me, what I love about my job is, I love storytelling. And if the story’s a good one to tell, then I’m incredibly proud to be a part of it, whether it’s English, American. It’s neither here nor there, really. I found this one a specific challenge and working on the accent was challenging. I had a great dialect coach. And also you feel a responsibility when it’s someone so far from where you are. But you have to actually go under the skin of it. So I did go down to Louisiana and do a road trip from Oklahoma through the Osage nation reservation and then down into New Orleans, so at least I could get a sense of the geography and the kind of places this guy was growing up in.

SFBG: How much of that were you able to use in creating Gordy’s backstory?

ER: Well, I don’t know if you remember the [sketchbook]. That was something that, when I did my road trip, I collected myself. I went and used all these disposable cameras and took photos and did drawings and messed around. Which was a lot of fun, and a way of building up a backstory for who he was and who his dad was and what his life story had been. For the audience, it’s kind of extraneous, I suppose, but for me it’s important that I knew where he was from.

SFBG: I wanted to commend you for your performance in The Yellow Handkerchief, but I also thought you were great in Savage Grace. You seem to play these characters who aren’t always relatable or even very likable to an audience. They’re interesting, but they’re not necessarily people you’d want to spend a lot of time with. So how do you find that balance in making them sympathetic but also difficult?

ER: [laughs] I know what you mean, and certainly with Tony in Savage Grace, that film wasn’t written as a psychological discussion as to how this person had ended up there. It was a cold detachment on what this life was, and what happens when relatively talented people have so much money that it catalyzes inertia almost. There’s nothing to do with your life because you don’t have to do anything. I suppose what I try to do is not to judge the characters that I play, and just present them honestly and hope that, certainly more so in Yellow Handkerchief, that the audience does eventually, despite feeling alienated and isolated from this guy to begin with because of his quirks and his eccentricities, that eventually they do see that there is an openness they can relate to.

SFBG: Going back to The Yellow Handkerchief, I wanted to ask for your opinion on why this unlikely trio forms. Obviously there’s some attraction on Gordy’s part when it comes to [Kristen Stewart’s character] Martine, but what else is there that links them together?

ER: For me, the film is about chance, really. It’s about chance and circumstance. And what I love is, it hopefully feels like this is a story going on in the world that the camera stumbles across, travels with, and then lets go. It’s really about the truth of those moments in life that it is through moments of luck or passing or who you bump into on the street or whether, specifically in Yellow Handkerchief, a rain storm causes these people to end up in a car together for three days. It’s as simple a conceit as that. But I think it plays truthfully in its idiosyncrasies almost.

SFBG: Can you talk about developing chemistry with your co-stars, William Hurt and Kristen Stewart? How did you form that bond, both on-screen and off?

ER: Well, what was wonderful is, Kristen is magnetic and an incredibly wonderful person, very open and lovely, and we got on very well form the outset. William is someone I’ve admired for a long time and have worked with on The Good Shepherd, although I’d never acted with him. What was great is, firstly, we had two weeks rehearsal, which is rare on film and something that William insists on. So we got to know each other. But also, three of us sat in a car in the incredible heat in Louisiana, passing through these extraordinary landscapes. It’s a way to bond quite promptly, and so the chemistry built really through spending an intense, really quite intimate time together.

SFBG: I wanted to close by asking what’s next for you. You’ve done your fair share of theater, so I was wondering if you might be returning to the stage anytime soon?

ER: Actually, I open a play on Broadway [on March 11] with Alfred Molina. It’s a new play about Mark Rothko, which we just finished a run of at the Donmar Warehouse Theatre in London. It’s called Red, and it’s about Rothko and his assistant. So I’m lucky enough to act on Broadway in two weeks time.

The Yellow Handkerchief opens Fri/5 in Bay Area theaters.

Bombers kick off derby days with home opener

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Perhaps the snarling theatrics of Whip It have rubbed off on yours truly, but I think it’s no stretch to say that the upcoming bout between the Bay Bombers and the Brooklyn Red Devils (Sat/6, Kezar Stadium) will not only be a showdown between east and west, but also a fight between good and evil. This is co-ed roller derby at its most epic. Why? Your ignorance is regrettable, but forgiven. Let me brief you on the history that has lead up to this momentous event.

Jim Fitzpatrick, an ex firefighter, current general manager of our American Roller Skating Derby home team and a Bomber himself from 1977 to 1987, was injured on his day job years ago. After a long struggle with physical therapy and attempts to regain his athleticism, he was offered his old team’s GM position in 2007. He’s never looked back, winning the league championship and GM of the year award every season since. “Roller derby might seem like a strange outlet,” Fitzpatrick humbly says, “but if I can inspire someone go forward and not give up- no matter how difficult life can be at times- then I’ll feel I’ve accomplished something special.” Fitzpatrick’s daughter’s Alta Loma middle school band will be playing the national anthem before the Bombers’ bout on Saturday. Let’s say it all together; awwwwww.

 

Bay Bombers bust out their league champion blocking skills

And who is his team defending these hard-won accolades against? In the other corner! The Red Devils are managed by the “Demonic Dame of Derby,” Georgia Hase, who started skating professionally in 1964 but rose to fame as a supervillan on the ‘90s TV show Rollergames, where she screamed at her own players when they fell, broke up sister-sister teams and made families everywhere screw up their faces at the boob tube and say “I don’t like her at all!” And she’s started taunting our Bombers already, people! The Red Devils’ website says “our skaters are taught to skate hard and dirty the way we want them to- not the way the pansy San Francisco Bay Bombers or those San Diego Firebirds are taught to skate.” Oooooo! Talk bad about California, will you?! It’s on!

This year marks the return of Bombers stars Roman Lacson and Brian Perry, plus the newly signed speed skating champ/derby legend Patsy Delgado. The SF team, who have been in the bay since 1954,  longer even than the Giants, will also feature seven rookies who made it on the team fresh off of this winter’s banked track boot camp. The team is offering wannabe bruisers like yourself the chance to skate their track before this weekend’s game- the perfect chance to see for yourself what it feels like to bomb. 

 

San Francisco Bay Bombers vs. Brooklyn Red Devils

Sat/6 8 p.m., $10-20

Kezar Stadium

755 Stanyan, SF

www.arsdbombers.com


Let’s all read Sand Paper

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Charmingly disheveled Adobe Books, strung as it is on the alcoholic’s crucifix known as the cross-section of 16th and Valencia, has become a beloved sanctuary for readers, drunkards, and occasionally homeless individuals alike. I always look forward to Adobe Books’ events because you can never predict who among the circus just outside will enter and join the fun. Not many bookstores on this dry earth permit customers to imbibe openly from brown bags of Colt 45 during poetry readings. Adobe Books’ Dickensian squalor places it fondly in my heart even as its floorboards sink beneath the weight of dusty overladen bookshelves — and when the smell of stale beer and, somehow, cats, forces me to breathe through my mouth while I peruse.

On Monday, March 1, Adobe Books will host the San Francisco launch party of three new books from Sand Paper Press. It’ll be worth holding my nose to dive in.

Known for featuring and promoting the works of writers associated with Key West Florida, Sand Paper is not as provincial as it may seem. Key West is like Iowa City in that both localities are marked by a disproportionately high writers-to-population ratio. Elizabeth Bishop, Wallace Stevens, Tennessee Williams, and Earnest Hemingway have all served as pro tem Floridians. This upcoming Monday, books by Stuart Krimko, Shawn Vendor, and Arlo Haskell will be presented and read at Adobe.

Stuart Krimko, currently based in Los Angeles, is the author of The Sweetness of Herbert, a collection of poems loosely inspired by the works of Welsh poet George Herbert (1593-1633). Herbert was remembered for his fancifully monastic poems about the existence of God, and his influence is most evident in lines by Krimko like “(As God in the form of a nauseous wave cast Jonah out.)/ That’s what aggressive living is about.” Readers should note that the collection’s title is intentionally misleading; Herbert’s allusion is tangentially related to a work that is richly imbued with Krimko’s own personality.

Key West poet Arlo Haskell’s collection Joker is lovely. John Ashbery once commented that Haskell’s poems “conjure an ambiance as temperate and welcoming as ocean air.” Ashbery was correct in the sense that Haskell’s poems have a flowing and pellucid quality to them, best seen in phrases like “Imagination is our hard respite/ and the birds in the trees are one of a kind: loneliness./ Our law, like love and lust, is liquid”. However, Haskell’s work is not always temperate nor welcoming; they are frequently political and incisive. Despite Haskell’s aptitude for a pretty turn of phrase, he is not afraid to stir the water. Nor is he apprehensive in revealing what lies beneath.

Along with Haskell and Krimko, young writer Shawn Vandor will also be at Adobe, reading from his collection of stories Fire at the End of the Rainbow.

Sand Paper Press launch party
Mon/1, 7pm, free
Adobe Books
3166 16th Street, SF.
www.myspace.com/adobebooks

High on Fire’s latest is divine

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Wielding his custom-made nine-string axe, churning out tone so thick it could flaunt hot pants in a rap video, and crafting an ever-expanding arsenal of neck-snapping riffage, High on Fire guitarist Matt Pike has done it again.

His playing on the Oakland trio’s new album, Snakes for the Divine (Koch Records), surmounts a new, fiery height. That the things he already did well (effortless, legato hammer-ons, heavy-handed, scything chords) are done better is hardly surprising – it’s the expanding versatility of the snaggle-toothed shredder’s songwriting and technique that impresses, along with his ever-improving vocals. Though Pike’s work in Sleep will inevitably serve as a preamble, it is likely that the virtuosity and creativity of his High on Fire output will reverberate longer, and heavier, in posterity.

The album’s production, courtesy of Slayer knobsman Greg Fidelman, strikes an agreeable balance between Steve Albini’s uncompromising, abrasive work on 2005’s Blessed Black Wings (Relapse Records) and the enveloping warmth of Jack Endino’s Death Is This Communion (Relapse, 2007). Fidelman’s task is made easier by the fact that High on Fire are a power trio that sounds like a power octet. Nevertheless, he replicates the commendable work he did on Slayer’s World Painted Blood (American/Sony, 2009), wringing vast, organic-sounding potency out of the drums and amplifiers without sacrificing instrument separation.

Bassist Jeff Matz deserves plaudits for his reverberant, foundation-shaking appearance in a supporting role, anchoring crucial chord progressions and driving thunderous grooves as Pike ascends into the sativa stratosphere. One-guitar bands often lose momentum during leads and solos, and the fact that High on Fire never does is a testament to Matz’s quality, along with that of drummer Des Kensel. One of the hardest hitters in the business, Kensel’s truncheon-like approach is complimented by the exorbitant circumferences of his cymbals and toms. He and Pike have long enjoyed a striking musical understanding, exemplified by the lockstep concordance of the former’s riffs and the latter’s barbells-in-the-dryer tom runs, and the connection has rarely born riper fruit than the meter-bending wallops of album’s title track, along with the drummer’s effortless shifts into double-bass driven double-time later in the song.

Following immediately after the eponymous opening salvo, lead single “Frost Hammer” kicks off with cascading drums before settling into a propulsive, downbeat-heavy groove, delivering an arena-ready shout of “frost ham-mer!” at a number of key junctures. “Bastard Samurai” starts as a doomy, meditative plod before erupting into strident, lost-face anguish during the choruses, and is soon followed by reckless, frantic thrash of “Ghost Neck.”

Closing track “Holy Flames of the Firespitter” begins with a riff that hearkens back to the band’s previous albums, reminding old-school fans that even as High on Fire evolves, they remain relentlessly true to their hard-scrabble roots. Don’t expect them to be changed by a new label, a big-name producer, or last year’s arena tour — they’re a band that eats Motorhead, drinks Sabbath, and bleeds Slayer, and Snakes for the Divine proves that they are at the absolute pinnacle of their game.

So long, Bryant Park: SF students show at Fashion Week’s last season in the tents

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As the New York fashion world flicked a sassy over-the-shoulder wave and bid its Bryant Park home goodbye — Fashion Week will move to Lincoln Center starting next season — six students from San Francisco’s Academy of Art University fretted and beamed as their projects took the stage before the eyes of famed industry professionals.

For the past five years, AAU has been showing select student’s work during New York Fashion week, to give promising graduates exposure and to lure new students out to the Bay Area. Bethany Meuleners’ story is a case in point: three and a half years ago, she secured a seat as a prospective featured student, sat in the audience, and dreamed of seeing her own designs on the runway. Serendipitously, she graduated just in time to have her goal realized. “I can’t believe I’m here! In Bryant Park!” Meuleners told me before the show. “It’s such an iconic thing.”

It’s difficult to piece together a coherent narrative from the collections of six individual designers, but this season seemed to play a gothic darkness (three of the students’ offerings were almost entirely black) off a theme best summed up as “monochrome time traveler.”


The most captivating and curious of the black camp was the work of Sabah Husain, which seamlessly distilled the glitz and glitter of India into wearable yet sophisticate outerwear. Husain brought the cut glass of a chandelier that had dazzled her back to her native India to be replicated into gemstones that she sewed into her designs — long felted jackets dripping with jewels, coats fit for a king. “This was my journey of moving from one aesthetic to another,” explained Husain. “In India, garments are largely draped, while in Western culture, they are all constructed.” Hopefully her cultural fusion will continue on in future garment construction.

Meuleners’ designs went for disassembled gothic, characterized by dark metallic bodysuits, lace dresses, and worn combat boots. Haphazard additions in flowing black silk chiffon created a perfect wardrobe for a sparkly vampire. It is a strange reality from a vision of an innocent child’s game. “I like having a story in mind when I design,” she said. “This was about a little girl playing dress up in her mom’s closet, throwing on clothes.” Meuleners mentioned that she used to shop her own mother’s closet for formals… the mother of this collections’ closet may need to have her fangs filed.

A departure from the shimmer and shine were the sculpted knits of Steven Oo. Creaturesque sweaters gave girls stegosaurus spines, and coned details on shoulders scratched towards wearer’s necks. Oo’s commanding demeanor (crucial for survival in the fashion world) may serve him better than his diligence or technical experimentation. Calm and collected backstage, he stood with a tie purposefully undone over a printed t-shirt, waving a lint roller over garments as he talked. “I was most worried about fitting with the new models,” Oo admitted. “But the knits treated me well.” Each piece took 40 to 60 hours of hand- and machine-knitting to create.

The work of the other students was a spray of light colors — whites, grays, and tans — on a trip: up to space, out on safari, and into the past.

The standout collection among the students consited of the six sculptural, cosmically conceptual looks that sweet and quiet Hyo Sun An sent out. Ornately fringed jumpsuits constructed from one continuous piece of fabric brilliantly transposed form over figure. An was searching through a science magazine for inspiration. Intrigued by the concepts of the Mobius strip and Klein bottle, An chose wool and jersey in gorgeous and complex gray tones to explore fluidity in fashion.

Lady Grace met desert expedition with Marina Solomatnikova’s sand suede suits. “I wanted to play between masculine and feminine,” she said after the show, still shaking with exhilaration. Masculine elements were present in heavy tailoring and femininity shown through in organza ruffles and deeply cut backs, resulting in six outfits that would be perfect for a duchess on an African safari.

Naomi Sutton, with an easy laugh that kept her blond hair shifting over her delicate shoulders, recounted her numerous trips to Bay Area vintage stores and fabric remnant warehouses to find the white and cream velvets and laces she printed with delightful images of chubby children playing, based on of her childhood memories. Traipsing down the runway, models became enchanted sleepwalkers dressed in ghosty gauzes. Aprons and silky ribbons gave a sense of nostalgia. Stepping into Sutton’s dresses is stepping into a whimsical past.

The six students are all back in San Francisco, frequenting their favorite inspiration spots — city beaches, Union Square — while the current class has its eyes locked on Lincoln Center and next season.

Come flash the friendly skies

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I was bopping my way out to the East Coast yesterday when I had to pass through a telephone booth that could see through my clothing. It wasn’t as fun as it sounds.

Apparently the scare over the Christmas Day plane bombing attempt has wrought some interesting technological developments in SFO. Namely, the implementation of the millimeter wave scan machine, which allows Homeland Security employees to see through your clothes in order to make sure you’re not carrying any shoe bombs, rifles, letter openers, etc. We’ve made the decision that we Americans must be perved on for our own safety. Even the Pope will tell you that’s a bad idea!

What’s up with these things? The machines, which are now being used in 19 US airports, rely on “millimeter wave radio frequency energy in the advanced imaging spectrum [beamed] over the body’s surface at high speed from two antennas simultaneously as they rotate around the body,” according to the TSA website. They create a detailed, three dimensional image of you in your birthday suit.

Here’s a sample scan, posted on the TSA blog by a genial chap named Bob, who cheerfully ventures “Mikhail Baryshnikov may have exposed more in his ballet costume than these robotic images portray.”

 

My, what lovely testicles that Mikhail has. First of all, I find it strange that X ray machines can differentiate between outer clothing (penetrate!) and undergarments (stay outside of panties!). But leaving that aside, Bob- what of us that free ball, what of us that wear no such sensible bra tops as those shown in above scans? What of the hippies, Bob, what of them?

 

Here’s what- nips away! This is not the shot that greets you on the explicatory placard in the SFO security line, by the way. And though TSA is quick to shove USA Today polls that prove it’s all okay in your face and remind you that the officers who view the scans do so from a remote location with people’s faces blanked out, those assurances are not winning over Islamic leaders (who have forbidden Muslims to violate their privacy with the machines) or good old Benedict XVI, who, although cognizant of the fact airport security is a fuckin’ head scratcher, insists “it is essential never to lose sight of respect for the primacy of the person.” I feel ya Benny- if we lose our right to go commando, doesn’t that mean the terrorists have won?

Going Rogue

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By Robyn Johnson

The second decade of the millennium has ushered in some upheavals, and whether they’re for the better or worse it’s hard to say. Tea Partiers are the new Republicans. Doughnuts are the new cupcakes. And now, beer is the new wine.

I recently attended the increasingly popular SF Beer Week, specifically the “A Taste of the Rogue Nation” event at the Rogue Ale Pub House, featuring a delightful cornucopia of their popular brews. Beer sommelier Sheana Davis of the Epicurean Connection elevated the status of the tasting from a mere beer bust to a frou-frou gourmet gathering with her artfully chosen pairings of artisan cheeses and chocolates. Although a little under a dozen samples were served, the following are the highlights — and what I could mostly remember to take notes on after several drinks. (Like true beer badasses, we did not expectorate.)
The tasting started off with Dirtoir Black Lager. Obsidian in color, it looked like coffee, it smelled like coffee, and it tasted like… coffee-ish beer: dark, roasted, and bitter. It was tasty in itself, but the lager became quite a treat when paired with the sampling of Rouge de Noir Le Petit Dejeuner—a sweet, creamy cheese with a white rind covered in penicillium fungi. Our lovely hostess Sheana told us it was mostly eaten as a morning cheese, which partially explained how well it complemented a coffee-like lager.

The Morimoto Soba Ale was also interesting, at least conceptually. A collaboration between Rogue and Chef Masaharu Morimoto (of Iron Chef fame), the specialty grain ale makes use of buckwheat—the same grain used for the flour of soba noodles. The taste was reminiscent of my favorite cheap beer, Asahi (Don’t kill me, beer aficionados, or Chef Morimoto.) In other words, it was refreshing, crisp, light, and on the dry side. I had a hard time placing the buckwheat nuttiness, though.

Not originally included in our tasting menu, John John Dead Guy Ale snuck in as an additional round. Another collaborative product, it’s comprised of Dead Guy Ale (creative contribution of Rogue Brewmaster John Maier) that has been aged in the leftover barrels of Dead Guy Whiskey (Rogue Spirits Master Distiller John Couchot’s input in the unholy scheme). It was delicate and sweet with the oaky notes of whiskey. To give us a basis of comparison, Double Dead Guy Ale was served immediately afterwards; with twice the normal amount of ingredients, it’s also twice as alcoholic. More bitter and less carbonated, it had a ghost of a caramel flavor.
 
While I did not care for the next round of Yellow Snow IPA, the immediate and bold hop flavor really assaulted my palate (for you hopheads, though, this beer’s for you), it’s worth mentioning because the cheese pairing was manna from heaven. Aged for 8 years, Widmer Cellar’s special cheddar actually develops crystals of condensed cheese, which adds a fun consistency to the concentrated, tangy flavor. It’s really the Übermensch of cheddar.

Finishing as the appropriate crescendo to the evening with rich, deep flavors, the Russian Imperial Stout, paired with Sheana’s espresso cookies, conjured up leather and smoke and the flashing eyes of Ivan the Great as he took to the battlefield against the advancing Mongol horde: earthy and full. I have to point out that at this point my intoxication level was at its peak, perhaps affecting my judgment. But the beer and its pairing were good in the way that dark, strong, and chocolatey foods are good.

All in all, my first foray into the complexities of beer and its relationship to food was edifying, especially in the case of the delicious synergism between the Dirtoir Black Lager and Rouge de Noir Le Petit Dejeuner. The conclusion? A pint glass can replace my wine glass any time.

Rogue Ales Public House

673 Union, SF

(415) 362-7880

www.rogue.com

No pixels, please — we’re plastic

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Film and prints, like dinosaur bones and fossilized treasures, seem like ancient artifacts blown to the wayside in our digital age. We lost the mystery in photography when we introduced the point and shoot, erasing not only the physical labor but the ugly smiles, blinky eyes, and embarrassing angles. Where are the mistakes? The light leaks and fuzz on the lens? They’re making a comeback.

Obscure, eerie, and beautifully whimsical images galore will be on display starting Fri/26  at the RayKo Photo Center, as part of the third annual Plastic Camera Show.

More than 100 images from Bay Area artists, national and international photographers will have you yearning to get out there, grind that advance gear, and capture a local critter with some old fashion film.

A fascination with old school cameras is growing, with updated versions of the Diana and Holga plastic models showing up at Urban Outfitters and antique versions trading online faster than they can click. A backlash to our digital photo machines, it’s invigorating to see a picture lacking today’s high standards of “perfection”, allowing the camera to steer and our imagination to follow.

Cloudy, out of focus bridges and water towers clash and mingle with oddly colored figures and landscapes. Advanced photographer and amateurs alike can find success with the plastic gadgets, yielding photos with a quality unlike any produced by the futuristic models.

The work of Czech artist, Michael Borek, will be highlighted in the exhibit, shots of hot air balloons (see above) and lazy summer days harnessing the Holga’s unpredictability with gorgeous light leaks and inspiring angles.

RayKo’s 3rd Annual Plastic Camera Show
Fri/26-April 17 (Opening reception 6-9pm)
RayKo Photo Center
428 Third St., SF
www.raykophoto.com