Posts tagged with sky dylan robbins
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![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/89e554707ab850a5d45ce103da3d5680/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o7_r1_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://24.media.tumblr.com/350e9c2803b37378e65efb22f086b236/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o8_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/7829ce5cc7a3f66d179f113e579c62b3/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o2_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/75e3e4e651ddc6ea1c4deb9b8cdfae6c/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o4_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/744574ce3fc80b9a28eeefd17dc14ffc/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o10_r1_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/76c3634e358d926298453e5caa63a0d9/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o5_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/b4246c7ddfbcc5bdaeeda75952b8b255/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o6_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://24.media.tumblr.com/0de7e8833592b242d67604212d940ad1/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o9_1280.jpg)
Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
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The Fine Art of Coffee Portraiture
Here’s more evidence to back up all those studies on boredom inspiring creativity: Meet Mike Breach, barista extraordinaire, who “paints” everything — and everyone — into his lattes. “I’m an esspressionist,” he proudly proclaims. Just last year, Breach was idling away his customer-less hours in the back of a hotel kitchen with only a dormant espresso machine for company. He was “so, so bored.” So he taught himself how to inscribe ornate hearts in coffee foam, with a bamboo skewer as his paintbrush. “People got so excited about it!” says Breach. He took it further; out came the teddy bears (“the girls just love those”), a portrait of that hotel boss (“I didn’t show it to him, but my coworkers and I laughed about it”), and Salvador Dalì, and Edward Scissorhands, and Beyoncé.
We’re at the Smile To-Go, and he’s frothing some milk behind the counter; the shushing of the machine almost drowns out his words. He reflects. “It’s like, if something is lacking, you’ve got to find a way to make it exciting and fun. Right? I mean, I’m so happy that my old job was so boring! Otherwise I wouldn’t be making these! And this is just the beginning. I want to start a movement.” The milk is now pillowy, foamy-soft — perfect for the latte Breach is about to pour. He stares into his empty chestnut-colored canvas, and suddenly looks up. “I’ve been wanting to try Snoop. Let’s do that, yea?”
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At Dirty & Rowdy, California Wines Made Simple
This story was co-published in partnership with Bon Appetit.
One late, breezy Southern evening in 2009, Hardy Wallace — a Massachusetts-born oenophile, working in marketing at Kodak — was sitting at his desk when the phone rang. It was his boss, who was deeply sorry to inform Hardy that times were tough and — like most of his marketing pals at an already troubled Georgia company — he was going to be let go. Hardy vividly remembers the call — his manager’s sympathetic tone, his own ‘thank you’ back to a company he’d been a part of for years. “And then I told him, this was the best day of my life.”
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Strumming Along With Musician Andrew Bird
Once upon a time (the mid 90s) in a gloriously music-laden land (Chicago), a lanky, sharp-witted, sharp-featured tenderfoot (Andrew Bird) graduated from Northwestern’s acclaimed music conservatory and dove into the sea of indie rock. Inhabited by hard-edged musicians who took pride in their lack of skill and almost-affected amateurishness, it was about passion — forget technique. Live shows were supposed to be truly live, and in-concert mistakes were nothing less than standard. “Experience the sound in its raw, unadulterated form,” they’d say. And Bird — despite his “super-trained” background — fit right in, rolling with the sonic tides to the eventual mid-ocean calm of celebrated musician status.
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Chad Hartigan Talks ‘This Is Martin Bonner’
Writer/director Chad Hartigan was our first interview at Sundance this year, and he was perfectly happy to talk at length about his second feature, This Is Martin Bonner. The film was an official Sundance 2013 selection, and it went on to win the Best of NEXT Audience Award. Bonner follows the title character (Paul Eenhoorn), an older man forced to change jobs and cities, as he establishes an unlikely friendship with a recently released convict (Richmond Arquette). We talked with Hartigan about making movies, making friends, and disintegration loops.
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Wall Dogs: The Midair Muralists Who Paint New York
It’s 8am in Soho, the thermometer reads just above freezing, and the sky is bleak. Taxis splash down the streets; New Yorkers stride with their heads down, leaping over puddles, carelessly bumping into each other. Everyone wants to get out of the cold, out of the rain, into the warmth.
Ten stories above — on a long, skinny platform hanging from the facade of a building at Canal and Mercer in downtown Manhattan — it’s a different story. Climbers’ ropes secured around their torsos, Jason Coatney and Armando Balmaceda stand in a melange of open paint cans and brushes. These two muralists of Colossal Media, the largest hand-painted advertising company in America, are heavily layered in sweatshirts and raincoats. But in this industry, c’est la vie. Paintbrushes in their fingerless-gloved hands, earbuds in their ears — “I like to start out with Miles Davis in the morning,” Coatney smiles, his breath visible in the frigid air — they begin yet another workday in the sky.
It’s the third morning at this location, and the duo are on track, despite the rain, to complete a 30x18-foot mural — commissioned by Etsy to advertise a holiday pop-up shop — by the next evening’s deadline. Coatney carefully bends down, dipping the tip of his brush into a ruddy orange. “It’s a really weird mix of things that makes an artist like a wall dog,” he says.
Some say the origins of the term is derogatory. “Wall dogs” were the unofficial names of the men who were, almost literally, chained to outdoor facades to hand paint the enormous signs still decorating the faded exteriors of today’s landmarked buildings. But these days, the name is a sign of professional pride.
Before vinyl posters printed and hung by a couple guys and a crane became the norm, this was the way big-city advertising was done. Common practice in the decades before the Great Depression, painting these signs took days, perhaps weeks, of hard labor and skills that took years to hone.
Despite a couple updates (they now use motorized pulley systems to raise the building rigs, instead of pulling them up themselves), Colossal is carrying on the tradition, just as their predecessors did more than a century before. Paul Lindahl and Adrian Moeller cofounded the company nine years ago (a third cofounder tragically passed away in a subway accident) by pooling together their savings, a few thousand dollars, and leasing a large wall on 14th Street and 6th Avenue. “Hanging banners is faster; there are less variables. Everyone just told us to take a hike,” recalls Lindahl. Finally, months later, someone bit –- Rockstar Games, of Grand Theft Auto fame -– and they were so taken with the medium that they commissioned Colossal to paint 30 walls.
Moeller chuckles proudly as he talks about the past. “For the first few jobs, we couldn’t even afford a pounce machine,” the little contraption that burns holes into the life-size sketch they make for each job. They’ll spread this out and rub it with charcoal dust to get a faint outline when they’re on the rig, to help get the proportions right. “So Paul used a thumbtack. You can imagine, that’s a lot of holes to make for a 20x30 foot wall.”
No more thumbtacks. Today, Colossal is a $10 million company, with over 150 walls around the country and 30 wall dogs to fill them. “It takes years and years of practice,” emphasizes Coatney, still on the Etsy rig, who’s been doing this for 15 years. The rain has abated, and he’s added the finishing touches to the “always handpaint” lettering of the Colossal insignia. He pauses, his brush hovering in midair. “There are a lot of talented people waiting to get up here, you know? A lot of talented people.”
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