Pretty awesome name for the group of benefactors of Performance Space 122, a non-profit arts center in the East Village in NYC serving the dance and performance community.

Performance Space 122 (formerly a public school), by the way, is where MGM filmed the original "Fame" in 1979. Very cool for anyone who a) loves performance art b) loves New York c) loves creating.

Photo: "Friends with Benefits" reserved couch seat at P.S. 122.

Image from the audition for 101 Dalmatians, which will be playing at the WaMu Theater from 4/7/2010 to 4/18/2010.

Yep, you heard right. Dog auditions.

Held in the Park Avenue Armory, the Y3 show was probably one of the coolest shows all week. Give me fashion. Give me history. Give me music. Give me lasers.

Yes, that's right, lasers.

While I was too mesmerized to take what I would consider a good photo of the lasers, let me give you kids a bit of info.

First of all, you have to understand the space. I mean, it's an armory for goodness sake. Built between 1877 and 1881 by architect Charles Clinton, the 55,000 square feet you see was used as a drill hall for the 7th New York Militia Regiment. While it's one of the only places left in New York where you can find such vast, unobstructed space, the Armory in its entirety spans a city block - between 66th and 67th and between Park Ave. and Lexington Ave.

Secondly, with the beginning of each look segment, the runway of light was encased in three lasers, creating a three-dimensional frame. With restricted areas all around the floor, each laser cut across the space to meet its set point within the figure. And you guessed it, a 3-D frame in a space that huge looks awesome. Larger than life models all the sudden became a small and unique piece inside the borders. To be totally honest, the fashion was my least favorite part of this whole experience.

Did I mention designer Yōji Yamamoto chose some Paul Simon tunes to send his fashions down the runway? Oh and that there was a choreographed martial arts performance piece between looks? Yōji kicks the crap out of some model, some other model comes and kicks the crap out of Yōji, then the fashion show resumes. Oh God was this chick stoked.

Why can't all designers be this cool?

Top photo: First piece of the show.
Bottom photo: Open drill hall in the Armory (i.e. space without fashion show), photo courtesy of nytimes.com

Rehearsal for the Y3 fashion show at the Park Avenue Armory - February 14th, 2010.

Two looks from the Y3 fashion show at the Park Avenue Armory on February 14th, 2010

Y3 fashion show - Park Avenue Armory - February 14th, 2010.

Ms. Kelly Osbourne's hands. The combination of energy, texture and color makes this one of my favorites from Fashion Week.

Ms. Kelly Osbourne.

Sean Lennon and his girlfriend, model Charlotte Kemp Muhl, await their car on the streets of New York, post-Fashion Week event. I love his pinstripes, her mink and the tail lights behind them.

Charlotte Kemp Muhl and Sean Lennon select some tunes for a Fashion Week party on February 13th in New York.

Sean Lennon. Possibly the best DJ ever.

Although the shadow was an initial error in lighting judgment, I can now do nothing but giggle at giving John Lennon's son a cartoon-like mustache. I feel he would be amused too.

(L-R) Diana DeGarmo and Jeannette Bayardelle hug after a performance of "Let the Sunshine In" at the press announcement/photo call of the new cast.

The new cast of Broadway's "HAIR" with Diana DeGarmo, Ace Young and Kyle Riabko.

Proposal at Rockefeller Center on Valentine's Day. Gentleman, propose this way at your own risk.

Rockefeller Center on Valentine's Day.

Posting this photo only to prove I'm not delusional. There WAS a skating cupid at Rockefeller Center on the 14th. Please ignore the lighting/frame.

My dear friend Greg Scaffidi of the New York Times lost a photo assistant Tuesday night (He could have sworn he put him in his left coat pocket!), so yesterday morning, starting at 6:30 a.m., I stepped in to give him a lighting hand with Tory Burch's Fall 2010 presentation in Bryant Park. Greg has been at the tents* everyday for the past week doing a ton of "First Look"** shoots for the Times and guess what, they are all pretty awesome. So awesome, in fact, that the Times selected one of the First Look: Tory Burch photos as one of their global photos of the day.

To see more of Greg's beyond beautiful work, please check out the links:

February 17, 2010 NYT Pictures of the Day (#12)

NYT "First Look" slide show: Carolina Herrera

Obviously Herrera is my favorite so far, both in Carolina's designs and Greg's lighting, but if you wish to see more of his "First Look" slides, just use the drop-down menu on the right side of the page. Totally worth the 68 seconds it will take you.

P.S. - It's kinda cool to know you participated in an NYT global photo of the day. You helped make the day's news, less than one second in the history of the world. Crazy. Weird. Awesome.

*Arrangement of tents in Bryant Park which bi-annually hold New York's biggest fashion shows. Thhhey're pretty fun.

**A preview shot of each model's "look" prior to being presented on the runway. You know, sneak peak, first photos - same idea.

Photos courtesy of nytimes.com

(L-R) Designer Prabal Gurung and Hanuk at the 'Fashion Loves Hanuk' photography exhibition and party at Bellhaus on February 12, 2010 in New York.

Pre-event photo of the 'Fashion Loves Hanuk' photography exhibition and party at Bellhaus on February 12, 2010 in New York.

Internal view of the Timo Weiland Fall 2010 after party at The Wooly on February 15, 2010 in New York.

The focus is a tad too soft to have posted on Getty's website, but I love it. If you look closely you can see the corner of his smile.

(L-R) Designers Timo Weiland and Alan Eckstein attend the Timo Weiland Fall 2010 after party at the Wooly on February 15, 2010 in New York.

Self-explanatory.

Brooke Shields at the Choo 24:7 launch at Saks Fifth Avenue on February 11, 2010 in New York.

(L-R) Brooke Shields and Jimmy Choo Founder and President Tamara Mellon attend the Choo 24:7 by Jimmy Choo launch at Saks Fifth Avenue on February 11, 2010 in New York.

Keith Richards' daughter, Alexandra Richards, DJs at the Jimmy Choo event held at Saks Fifth Avenue on February 11, 2010 in New York.

Part of the Jimmy Choo event held at Saks Fifth Avenue on February 11, 2010 in New York.

After staring at my computer screen in stressed debate about whether to post Paris or the onset of NY Fashion Week, I racked focus toward a tiny icon on my desktop aptly named according to my latest archiving system: poutineMTs.jpg.

And [insert All-Mighty Power Du Jour] hath spoken.

Poutine - 1
Paris/Fashion Week - 0

Some might call this procrastination or perhaps avoiding an inevitable decision for just one more day, but I call it priorities. No, no... I call it necessity. I will try to write a wee review tomorrow, but right now, my eyes aren't focusing in the same place and I, yes me, have to go to sleep prior to 4 a.m.

Hmmm achievement? Surrender? A surrendering achievement? An achieving surrender? I don't know, I'm just plum tired.

Snowy village. I'd write more, but I'm at the beginning of a very important time in my life.

Watching.... The Goonies.

Hm. Accumulation not bad for having poured the first day, wiping out day one on the slopes. Funny how the last day is always when you desperately wish you could have the first day back. Four days? Not exactly what one would call enough.

Photo: Photo trek while skiing back down to the lodge. Gloves on this time.

Ok! It's -8 outside, but gee-golly, that sun is a-shining!! What a great day to ski with your camera! All right, let's try a few lift shots. Poles secure under thigh, one glove alllmost offf and HOLY CRAP I can't feel my hand. Whatever. Onward! Unzip camera bag, adhere naked hand to camera body, wrap Nikon strap around wrist multiple times, expecting the unexpected, and frame shot! Snappy snap snap snap snap.

Wedge camera out of unsheathed hand, recognize lack of response from stiff fingers, calmly panic, pray to God your glove is still in lap (success!), wiggle glove back onto frozen digits, fumble camera back into bag with mobile hand, zip up bag,

decide not to do that again.


Photo: Looking west on the north side of mountain from ski lift.

Come on Blog! Keep up!

Looking down the southern side of the mountain with Lake Tremblant below us.

Top photo: black and white
Bottom photo: altered black and white

Daylight version: Cathédrale Marie-Reine-du-Monde, Montreal. ID courtesy of John... what teamwork!

And again, ladies and gents, I will end up much farther behind on this blog than I'd like. Hmm I haven't even posted anything from Mont-Tremblant. And yes, I'm off again.

This time overseas and leaving the computer at home. Truly an experiment of disengaging.

Photo walk on our way to get dinner. In this case dinner meant fondue and, more specifically in my case, a ham/swiss/spinach crêpe doused in maple syrup. Heaven in my mouth.

As a side note, lighting in most of these establishments of deliciousness was less than ideal, which explains my choice to pair architectural photos with words longing (I repeat, longing) for regional cuisine. I'm very sad about it too.

When I refer to this "side-by-side" shooting, what I mean is one's compatibility in shooting next to another dude/dudette with a camera. Sometimes it's a major fail and sometimes the dynamic takes some time to grow - almost never is it an immediate success. Generally fearing the worst in this realm of professional observation, I've only tried this a few times - John being my 4th, I believe. What frustrates me the most about it is conversation, because it's the best part about it too. You don't want that person to stop talking, but you swap the facts you should be collecting for his/her thoughts. A fair trade, I suppose, but then the writer (me) looks like an asshole. Honestly, I wish I had three more ports in my brain to process all of the information to take a photo of something you know nothing about in a place you know nothing about. You are all at once trying to digest your thoughts, your technical decisions, your buddy's thoughts, your collected information of subject and worst of all, your stupid back-burner brain that loves to heat itself up from time to time.

Like every good relationship - and I consider my photo partnerships to be very important relationships - usually all it takes is time and a desire to watch how someone else is seeing the world in the exact place and at the exact moment you are. If you think about it, it's a completely awesome experience. Just takes some Effort. Capital E, my friends.

So here we have another photo about which I know nothing. Yes, yes, of course I'm annoyed, but not really in a bad way. All I know is there are some sharp lines, some high contrast, a nice moon and a solid conversation all in this photo.

Freezing our butts off to get some solid night shots in Montreal - the side-by-side shooting experiment continues.

Coooppppyyyy cool construction in Montreal on our quest through the city to find what we were told was the best poutine on the planet.

Again, way to go with the interactive art, Montreal.

Sweet mural, Montreal.

Finally got the clip below up and running thanks to John's Vimeo account. Many apologies for error. Check it out.

Sequence 1 from John F. McClellan on Vimeo.

Annnnd I'm on another train. This time northbound to Montreal and this time, with a buddy! Big steps for me... this travel with someone thing. I'm a pretty laid back traveler, but let me tell you, John takes the cake. Ahh haaa...ugggh... I'll explain it to you someday when you are older.

Though we will be spending a night in Montreal, our main expedition lies in Mont-Tremblant, a gem of the Canadian ski scene. Now, I am a proficient and experienced skier, but my (currently passed out) partner in crime to the right of me here, is basically a polar bear with an insatiable desire for all things surf and ski related. Our skill sets in this instance? A bit different. Our goals? The same. Pop in the headphones and boogie down the slopes. Good times, good times and more good times.

And the above? I adore this love/hate relationship. So much passion! So much motivation! So much dedication! Oh, and quite funny too.

Video: One of my favorite silly clips from Turbo. Gorgeous ski film, by the way. Many thanks to said Polar Bear for introducing me to it and for cutting it to post to the blog.

Designed by American artist/architect/OSS member/silk entrepeneuer, Jim Thompson (I highly recommend clickling), this angel hails from a most unlikely place - Bangkok, Thailand. While I am unfortunately not in Thailand at the moment, this little love delicately traveled back from Asia with me in February 2008 to remain in its permanent home in Monessen, Pennsylvania.

Since I was unable to see my family over the holiday season and the show is now over, a lovely trip to Pittsburgh was in order to celebrate a very belated Lutheran Christmas, a slightly belated Orthodox Christmas and Russian New Year (also referred to as Old New Year).

And actually, Russian New Year is the reason for writing today. I spent the day in the angel's home yesterday, which is owned by an angel of other sorts. A 92-year-old woman who lives alone, cooks, cleans, bakes, trims shrubs, cuts her hair, knocks icicles off her gutter (with a broom stick) and says the rosary religiously 1-3 times a day. As you can imagine, these feats also come with the necessary amounts of stubbornness and determination. The woman still hand-washes dishes faster than me.

No part (to our knowledge) of our family is directly Russian, but we are primarily Eastern European by descent, which explains why my grandma met my grandpa at a Russian New Year dance on January 14th, 194_. The year, in this case, is irrelevant, as she was simply glowing all day on January 14, 2010. She had recently cut her hair to suit a left-side-part and placed a crystal bobby-pin on the right, not for decoration, but for efficiency. She looked beautiful. Just as you can hear a smile through the phone, if you missed the light in her eyes, you could taste her happiness in her pirohy* yesterday.

Oh pirohy, pirohy... heavenly pirohy.

My pap-pap passed away in 1997, truly a man with the heart of gold. One of the first stories she told me yesterday was his arrival to her house on that January day.

She smiles, looks at her latest batch of beef soup, looks up at me, smiles even brighter:

"When he showed up, I thought (groans)... he was wearing a sport coat and all the other men going to the dance had rented tuxedos. It was the new year! You were supposed to dress up!"**

This woman is a perfect example of why I don't believe in the description of true love that subscribes to one spouse passing soon after the second. Last time I checked, it was 2010 - thirteen years after his passing and she is just as wonderful as ever. Sure, her body isn't as strong as it used to be, but she has one of the greatest, simplest philosophies I've ever heard: "I'm just grateful I can get out of bed in the morning." - says the woman, who, when she can't sleep... bakes pies. Actions speaking decibels louder than words.

To get back to our friend pictured above, we didn't have a candle to light for Pap-Pap, but I did have my camera and we did have the angel. Very cool to think that I wouldn't have been sitting there with her if it hadn't been for yesterday, over a half century ago. You can say that about a lot of things and a lot of dates, but it just felt poignantly cool yesterday.

*Common to most Americans as pierogies, its singular in Slovak, piroh, is sadly as unknown as canolo/cannoli is to Italian-Americans.

**In relaying this story to my parents later that night, my mom knew it and my dad, haha, my dad just smiled a deep, soulful smile and said, "I loved that man."

One of the classiest joints in which I've set foot in NYC. I will not disclose the location online of said night-spot, just know that it is definitely open on Sunday nights and definitely a place one should keep on the hush-hush.

And to think, my day started with "Batman"! How does your wintry, non-snowy day get better from there? Elementary, my dear Watsons. Your partner in all things exploratory, wild and fun says, "Hey, I just bought a few rolls of film, I've got my Lomo, grab your baby (for new readers, 'tis nothing less than my camera) and let's go."

While it took a little more than that to drag me away from Batman (the lack of quotes is not an error, I repeat, not an error), I hopped the 4 to the J to meet John on the frigid corner of Delancey and Allen to begin implied photo journey.

It should be mentioned that I am on two very personal quests to be accomplished in the next five years. I partially agreed to this frolic in the frozen air to further one of the two goals to teach myself to not be ridiculously cold anymore. The other has to do with snakes. I'll keep you posted on both, not to worry.

Traipsing around the Lower East Side, we allowed the cross-walk man to guide every step. I like to pretend that I make choices on my own, but that little LED man has led me on more expeditions so far than any other single factor in New York. While he guided us in the direction of the Flatiron, I remembered that there was a delightful joint called the Rye House, which had garnered much respect from the New York circuit of Pennsylvanian transplants. Supposedly it was a suitable representation of some of our weird customs. Me being me, I knew of its existence and I knew the neighborhood, but had no clue of its precise location. Rather than dragging John across the universe, I made a wise decision in these modern times. What! Heck no! My good for nothing Blackberry browser? Nope. A phone call to the one and only GianCarlo. Not only did I get the cross streets, but I got him too! How about that!?! A 9-6 advertising guy hitting the town with two freelance crazies on a Sunday night!! Very few things make me as excited as this phenomenon... and tap-dancing elephants.

To proceed, as far as I could tell, the only PA thing about this place was their use of wood in the decor - but that was it and that's a stretch. I had a local beer (local Manhattan beer... meh) called Chelsea "Hoppy Holidaze" and some clam chowder. PA? I don't think so. Make no mistake, I love New York, but select Pittsburgh breweries could hop those holidaze to beer heaven! In fact, I can hear Penn Brewery call my name! As I write this!

Just for you, I shall ignore its summons and continue.

Next? Undisclosed location above, donated to my knowledge bank by Carlo. Personal inquiries will be honored.

Photo, photo, photo... diner, diner, diner. Hollywood Diner. Yes. Nothing in the world like a Monte Cristo at 3 a.m. Monday morning with two beyond wonderful dudes - photo/camera dudes at that.

Who knew things could be better than Batman on a Siberian winter night?

Photo: Racy wallpaper - what else do you want me to say?

Ok. I lied. Tomorrow is the day.

Until then, the only thing I can say is all I've ever really wanted is a tap-dancing elephant.

Happy, oh so very happy. I wonder what he charges for lessons.

Locomotive Breath. Jethro Tull.

Too much of a glare to edit photos on this westbound train. The stories of perfect Sundays shall resume tomorrow.

Headphones in, heater on (obviously I mean my overheating Macbook Pro), siesta - now.

Above? The German-made "Grand MA" lighting console, used by a majority of large productions all over the world. Complete mastery of this board means that you are one smart, well-trained cookie. Sadly, mastery is eons away from my skill level, but I was delighted to begin to learn its basics, separate from my work with the follow spots. If the show designers had wanted to, in addition to lighting and effects, they could have controlled all the projectors through this thing too - and trust me, that's a whole lot of expensive, high-tech gear channeled through one console. I would love to bore you with specifics, but I'm still learning myself.

I often wonder if Fisher-Price models their baby tables after lighting/audio boards with all the lights, buttons, knobs, levers, drawers, dials, colors, etc., etc., etc. perhaps with the intention we all will become board ops one day? If that is indeed their intention, Fisher-Price... I salute you. What a world of fun. What a gorgeous, gorgeous world of technical fun.

Photo: Grand MA, John's hand and Act II. My station/deck was just to the left of the board, so when I rolled my chair over to try and shoot this picture, I managed to get tangled in my headset AND get my chair wedged into the platform. Grace comes in many forms, my friends, but sometimes she goes on vacation.

Note: At the time, I liked this photo better with the show in focus, but now I wish I had shot it the other way around!

Two to three times a day... for two months... this angle... long, wonderful hours.

On that note, take it away Bing!

Where it's snowing all winter through, that's where I want to be
Snowball throwing, that's what I'll do!
How I'm longing to ski!
Through the snow-oh-oh-oh-oh...

(I can find "White Christmas" and/or Bing Crosby appropriate for most any occasion, at most any time of year. Try me in July.)

She learned that from me. Forget the gymnast mother, the Cirque-act-designer father. All me. You should see me juggle flaming maracas upside down on a highwire. Defies all laws of physics, really.

Photo: Elena Lev, one of the most graceful contortionists I've ever seen, performing her hoops act for Cirque du Soleil's Wintuk.

With the Cirque schedule being what it is, it's very difficult to accomplish lengthy tasks in the hours we are actually off. Those hours, of course, not pertaining to normal human functionality, come at unusual times, where one can sleep, eat, read and not get two of his/her 16x20 photos printed. Why are we printing such large photos, you ask? New Years Eve, of course.

Let me explain. A very dear friend of mine, Mr. Chris Hondros (there's an entry on him from the summer, if you are unfamiliar) and his close friend, Mr. Todd Heisler, were throwing what was destined to be the greatest NYE party ever. Renting a gorgeous space (with multiple fireplaces, might I add) in Hondros' former Brooklyn loft building, the dynamic duo of a Getty staffer and a New York Times staffer were asking their friends to contribute his/her art to the NYE decorating cause. What a stellar idea! So I get the call from Chris, asking if I "happen to have" any 16x20 (or larger) prints of my work "lying around."

"Uhhh nope."
"Ok, Alli Harv, if a few happen to materialize in the next day, you just let me know and I will swing by to pick them up."

Yoi. How on Earth was I going to pull this off? We're not talkin' run to Kinko's/Staples and get this printed, but legitimately take the time to choose prints, tweak prints, choose a printer, choose a paper, choose an ink and choose a frame with maybe-a-border-maybe-without-a-border-I'll-see-when-I-get-there?

The truth is, I didn't end up having time for most of that. It's not really like me to crap out on something so cool, but this year it just wasn't going to happen. What I did have time for was the lengthy process of sorting through hundreds of gigabytes in order to find a print I'd actually want to put on my wall. You better believe though, that if I was dropping the cashola to do this right, that thing was going on a wall somewhere.

My stroll through digital memory lane had me stumble upon the above image - one that just didn't make the cut the first time around. I don't think this is the one I would have printed, but it was one of the first shots of a great friendship developed that summer, so I had to pull it into my "edits" pile. Just before I started writing this last night, I saw the file number on my desktop and immediately picked up the phone and called "T-Funk" as he's still labeled in my phone. I've never called him by that name, as everyone else does, but it kinda made me laugh. He didn't pick up, but I left him a stupidly long, nonsensical voicemail. Goodness only knows what I could have been talking about, but whatever it was, I assure you it was endearing.

The outcome of all this?

1. No prints with my signature on the walls of that Brooklyn loft.
2. A pretty solid reason to wear a vintage black leather pencil skirt.
3. The greatest New Years Eve I've ever had.
4. A kick in the butt to give a very good friend a call.

And I'm more than ok with all of that.