NIKE BE FREE: BY barnaby roper & tristen bechet



here is another one by the dynamic duo barnaby roper and tristen bechet (services),  for nike. this, to our understanding, was one of the very first times the duo worked together. the film was commissioned by nike and creative directed and produced through the new york agency ceft and company. it made the top 10 list at number 3 on “fashion film network top 10 fashion films” losing the top-spot to non other than our very favorite lady…. gaga’s: “born this way” filmed by nick knight. the photographs associated to the film were taken by french art photographers denis darzacq. the best part is that the entire series were presented as 2 ipad apps allowing interactive features. keeping an eye out for barnaby’s next great thing. by xy

they don’t make ‘em like they used to. while metal rusts and muscle weakens, the junk yard is not always the fate for our auto motive history. this killer art-deco motorcycle was locked in a crate after its production and stayed there for over seven decades. in 2005, that crate was cracked to expose this automotive work of art, the 1934 BMW R7 motorbike by bn

christina kruse ruse

not just a pretty face. christina kruse is someone i’m sure you’ll recognize from fashion and advertising over the past many years, but did you know she also makes art? supermodel + artist, what a thing to envy! i recently came across some of her work which you can see here, i hope it’s more than another style of visual stimulation. if anything the results have an atmosphere that speaks of identity and emotional travels.  by kl

fruitophobia: why i can’t stand fruit


a fruit and a woman’s hand… when i was a child, i’d be taken along on “friend and family” visits with my mother. this was sort of special as i felt i was being paraded around as the “good son”, granted there were no other male sybling. it was a bore to be sure… sitting around a bunch of women all much, much, older than i was, but the one part that i can clearly recall to this day, was that in each adventure, we would inevitably end up at some standard living room, with a fruit bowl proped on some low table at the center, and a sofa, and some chairs standing guard around it. my mother would settle into a low propped chair and go on talking to the host about all sorts of weather and i would often begin staring at the carpet and phasing out the sounds around me. time would drip away and id be lost in a gaze… usually around this point in the sequence of worldly events, the host would lean over the table and grab a few varieties of fruit, not missing a word from the ongoing conversation. the selection usually consisted of a pear, an orange, a banana, and on occasions a pomegranate. she would then proceed with pealing them one by one, cutting them into bite size pieces while the juice from the fruits would slide down her long red finger nails in slow motion, curving in and around her silver and emerald rings, and onto the plate joining the other fruits… and their juices. i would stare at this phenomenal across the table, through the sun-rays and dust particles from the long curtains. being a fussy child i would dread the inevitable, the moment where Id be offered a piece of that  magic brew… and that moment would come. out of politeness i’d be forced to oblige and pick up a pear, soaked in orange juice and pomegranate and rubbed against a banana, all at that familiar body temperature of the hosts hand, and laced with where ever her long hands had been. needless to say this effected me just a little bit… and forever deprived me of enjoying any type of fruit.

to this day if i’d ever eat an apple (it has been years since) i’d want it to be near freezing temperatures! by uh