Let's say we're all bees. Each and every one of us is buzzing about- buzz buzz buzz. The honey that we make is our lives. Experience has taught me two things...
KILLER BEES MAKE THE MOST DELICIOUS HONEY
...and LIFE is only as yummy as you make it!
Are YOU a Killer Bee?
bee my guest?
Howdy Beezers! I'm excited to share something new with you... Over the upcoming months, most of the content you'll be seeing here will be from special guest contibutors! This is sure to add a new texture to this thing we've been weaving over the years. I know that many of my readers (yes, you!) are writers, artists, musicians and filmmakers. PLEASE feel free to contact me if there's something you'd like to contribute! I'd be most honored to pollinate... send me a note: m.mckinley@rocketmail.com
A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us.
Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.
-- Albert Einstein
The first time I walked through the threshold and into the foyer, I knew instantly I had to live here. It was visceral. It would have seemed that any number of barricades should have prevented me, so the sheer fact that my wish came true (and in such a timely fashion) is proof in the pudding that this was a match meant to be. Built in 1927 with character to spare, this Spanish Storybook gem had been a builder's showcase on a block that was the 1928 Milwaukee Parade of Homes, and was now on the National Register of Historic Places. And I now have the privilege of living here. Yes, me!
Fast forward just over a year when my friend Marianne Kohlman recommended me for a weekly feature in The Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel called "At Home With". I was hardly photography ready, but the idea of publicity for the shop was too hard to resist. So I kicked it into a high gear and with a little help from my friends, I completed a slew of projects in just 4 weeks- burning the midnight oil on several nights. Do you know what I learned? I'm not 30 anymore. I'm still recovering!
Special thanks to Nancy Herrick for writing such a nice piece, and to photographer Gary Porter for taking such awesome pictures. You can read the full article here, and there's a full gallery here.
Finally, I have a little story to share.
Shortly after moving in I decided the house needed a name. It's so that kind of house. Over the last 15 months I've tossed several monikers around, but nothing sounded right. Then just before the photo shoot, I learned that Paul Jewell had passed on. Paul lived here with his wife Sharon for 4 decades, and they raised their family here. I was thinking about how Paul and Sharon had so lovingly cared for this very special house, and suddenly her name became crystal clear; I would call her Jewell Box. And so it is.
Since the house was so clean and there were fresh flowers about, I took a bunch of pictures of my own and put this little video together...in Paul's memory.
My friend Richard recently shared this un-aired treasure from 1965 on Facebook. Who knew that Bette Davis had ever filmed a pilot for television...produced by Aaron Spelling?! Its rather delightful. What a shame it never saw the light of day...until now!
"Especially something British with allot of grey going for him in the temples."
Trust me, if you have a few minutes to be entertained, you'll want to watch part 2 and part 3 as well...enjoy.
I remember the night Cassandra came next door for dinner and she told me her radio show was ending. She looked at me silently with a peaceful expression of "knowing" that it was time, even if it was tinged with "So now what?" I told her that this would simply be the catalyst to a new era for her. "Sweetheart, you belong on television anyway." Another silent, knowing stare..so now what?
Several weeks after that conversation we started filming This Is What I Know So Far and what I knew instinctively was confirmed for the world to see. Not only was she a natural for television, but that the camera would love her. A few months later (and with some crazy leap of faith) she asked me to manage her. I said yes knowing only that I couldn't say no. It had never occurred to me to "manage" someone before! I had been put in position. So now what?
It was August 2010 when the call came from FOX that they were developing a new morning talk show, and that they wanted to talk to Cassandra about being a part of it. We thought it had the potential to be a hit. What it became was a local phenomenon. At the desk, the chemistry between Katrina, Nicole, Rob, and Cassandra (and with Tony Clark on the road) was instant and infectious. The show is incredibly popular, and a consistent ratings champ. In the last year and a half Cassandra has had a slew of lovely press, not to mention her Shepherd Express nominations last Fall for Female Vocalist of The Year and Jazz Artist of The Year.
Can you tell I'm just a little proud? (Insert smiley face here.)
On Friday afternoon Cassandra was honored by the USPS for "Putting Her Stamp on Metro Milwaukee" in recognition of her Outstanding Achievement in Media. In all there were 14 women honored for their achievements in various fields, and the lovely presentation was well attended. The chicken wasn't bad either.
Here's a short news clip from Friday night-
With Real Milwaukee Co-Hosts Katrina Cravy and Tony Clark, and Producer Sara Smith
They have allot of fun on REAL MILWAUKEEit's true, but the following clip from last week illustrates the kind of intelligent and thoughtful conversations that Cassandra and her equally articulate co-hosts are having on the show as well...and clearly shows why she's so deserving of her award. You GO baby!
Finally and last but not least, we relaunched Cassandra's website this week. With a sophisticated new look created by the multi-talented Cindy Malin-Peterson and au courant photography by the uber-gifted Douglas Krimmer (Who's the man behind The Bees original photo shoot), the new look rolled out on Thursday. Be sure to stop by and CHECK IT OUT!
Something starts to stir in my soul around the middle of October when the days grow noticeably dimmer. I always say that Fall is my favorite season, but honestly Winter runs a close second. In the 21 Midwestern Winters I've now seen through, this California boy has embraced what many choose to flee. Some people find the short days depressing and they feel anxious. Not me. I look forward to Daylight Savings Time, to the long dark nights of December and January that wrap me in the comfort of their cocoon. But it's the light, the Winter light, especially in its last hour- that is truly something to behold...
For the last couple of weeks I've been completely preoccupied with preparing my house for a photo shoot which will be featured in the newspaper. As I was upstairs in my bedroom painting radiators and ceilings, I noticed the delicious Winter light filtering through the window, casting long and gorgeous shadows. Realizing the Season for it would soon be coming to an end and wanting to savor the moment, I grabbed my camera and turned off the flash...
The luster of Winter light creates a sense of mystery that I love. Beware its piercing shimmer can blind you...
The crocus in my yard screamed hello as I sprinted past them on my way out the door this morning. It was good to see them. I didn't even need the denim jacket I wore, as it was warm and buttery for my 9 block walking-commute to the shop. I suppose in the same way that Winter inspires me to go inward, the advent of Spring reminds me that renewal is constant...and that's very much a comfort. It may come in as third choice on my menu, but I think that's only because in southeastern Wisconsin it's all too fleeting. That simply means I'll have to savor it too. So on that note and on this first day of Spring 2012, Jackson and I would like to wish you all a glorious start to a new season. Anew.
By the way, I'd like to thank the fabulous Teamgloria(and all that gorgeous, histophabulous photography) for inspiring this post, which is rather different fare 'round these parts. I just might do more like this...
If we listened to our intellect, we’d never have a love affair. We’d never have a friendship. We’d never go into business, because we’d be cynical. Well, that’s nonsense. You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.
Origin: 1880–85; < Italian < Latindīva,feminineofdīvusgod;comparedivine
I'm one of those gay men who does all that stuff that gay men do well, well. You see contrary to popular belief, we all don't. I'm not pulling the diva card here, its just the cold hard facts.
Do you know how many gay men I've met who can't match a pair of socks let alone a bedding ensemble, and still believe they're God's gift to interior decoration? True story. You know the types. They bring 7 Layer Dip and Fritos Scoops to cocktail parties and call it haute cuisine.
Many years ago I used to pal around with a swell couple names Christopher and Ruby. They were a transgendered twosome who had actually met in a gender reassignment support group. You can't make this shit up. Anyway, they thought my propensity for making everything perfect was so precious that they bestowed the nickname "Martha" on me. At first I thought it was cute, but once it started catching on with other folks it quickly became an irritation. Don't get me wrong I loves me some Ms. Stewart, but she comes with a crystal clear connotation of controlling, privileged, and aloof. Like Diana, I'm a people's princess. I ain't got time for that.
As long as we're talking perfection. Divas also have a reputation for perfectionism. Isn't it ironic that the people who care the most always get persecuted for it? Believe-you-me I've suffered my share of badgering for wanting to "make everything nice". Well as the kids say nowadays, haters gon' hate. Actually one of the most beautiful things about arriving at this place in my life has been letting go of perfection. Of allowing things to be exactly what they are. Because creating the illusion of perfection is truly exhausting. It so much easier to be Michael these days.
I'm even claiming that with diva-like conviction.
An ex once told me that the only reason I liked to entertain was to show off my culinary prowess. He didn't mean it as a compliment, nor did he understand me very well. Sure my ego gets a gentle massage when the 7th person moans in literal ecstasy over my pumpkin cheesecake (with the gingersnap crust), but I also derive a tremendous amount of pleasure and satisfaction from feeding people I care about delicious food, because it makes them happy. Its a gift from my heart that comes through my hands. When a design client calls for the third time in a week to let me know how much more they're now enjoying their home because it not only looks beautiful, but it's working better- I know I've done my job.
Divas get a bad rep. Thank you very much Aretha Franklin.
It isn't an exercise in self absorption to give the Universe proper recognition for your own gifts, its a celebration. I say learn to celebrate you and others will too. There's a difference between "owning it" and showboating. A real diva knows the difference.
Because I long ago learned to embrace my inner diva, I can own my stuff! I'm a gifted Interior Designer, a burgeoning painter, Christmas isn't a day- its an event, and if you've been to my house for any manner of a meal then you know that I know my way around the kitchen! I also write, direct videos, design furniture, and can wrap the fuck out of a package. I don't sew though. I have people for that.
The only thing I can't seem to do well is keep a husband, which is unfortunate because divas need love too.
After losing 40 lbs last year I discovered that crow's feet had been lurking beneath the plumpness of my now less ample visage. A real diva would never admit that. "Marcella, book me at week at the Capri Anacapri."
These fierce divas show us just how its done. You see its not about an age, its an about an attitude. More importantly, its not about an affectation, but an expression...how authentic are YOU on the outside? Exactly who are you going to be, if not you? Thank you Chris Harper for sharing this with me, so that I might share it here! How very, very lovely.
With Spring mere weeks away, your mind may have recently drifted to thoughts of housekeeping and purging. My mother always said "You're either a stower or a thrower." She was definitely a thrower. I am too.
The other day my friend Ron Morris shared this delightful new documentary short film on Facebook. I'm always game for the goodness Ron pollinates, so I clicked play and settled in to be entertained for 6:48. I had no idea what a gift I was about to receive...
About 1 minute into it, the thrower in me started cringing as flashes of television shows like Hoarders and Clean House started pinging off my frontal lobe...and then suddenly I found myself completely charmed by the generous and loving spirit of one Anthony Pisano. I guaranteeyou will be too, this guy is a Killer Bee for sure.
Thanks to Ron for pollinating, and thank you Anthony for sharing your home with all of us. The next time I'm in New York I intend to stop in and say hello.
There once was a time here on the blog when I wrote frequently about design. In fact at one point I was planning to launch a spinoff blog, Interior Motives. I may still do that.
I'm also an artist, and believe with all my heart in the freedom of artistic expression. But lately the popularity of one medium in particular has me scratching my nearly barren scalp. I don't know, maybe its my age. I am 40 now. The world is inking itself, and for some reason its getting under my skin.
Every one's got 'em these days- from celebrities to my sister's kids. And my brother's kids. Most all of my friends are embellished somewhere, and yes many of you my gentle bleaders are too! My handsome nephew Matt has "sleeves" on both of his arms. The detail is just extraordinary. The last time I saw him I reveled in their sheer beauty but never asked why. Trust me, when I see him again I've got questions!
You see when I specify wallpaper for a client's home and they hesitate to sign off, I always remind them that if they want to to do something different 5 years from now its only wallpaper and it can easily be changed out down the road....
Metaphorically, I think of my body as the dwelling in which my spirit, my soul inhabits . It's temporary housing if you will. This house is my responsibility because its the only one I'm going to get- and I don't know how long I'm going to be needing it. Over the years my own track record for maintenance and general housekeeping has been spotty at best. Judge not, young man!
Then there's the whole fetish angle. Tattoos have long been considered to be the branding on a brute, the calling card of a Bad Boy. But how edgy can a tatt be when your Aunt Helen has one too? As an art form, the tattoo has gone viral.
I had a most enlightening conversation with my friend David recently about his bodywork, which is actually more extensive than I had realized. I got the skinny on each and everyone of his unique festoons which are all beautifully executed by the way. Each one had a point and a purpose, a symbolic, emotional backstory. As he shared these stories with me the symbology became quite powerful.
David's reasons were sound and moving, but I'm still not convinced. Of all the ways to communicate or express yourself, why through body decoration? And why does it seem that nearly everyone now has one? Is it because its finally socially acceptable? Would we have been just as adorned 200- or hell even 50 years ago, if it had been culturally admissible? Have we all just been waiting for the stigma veil to be lifted so that we could participate in a very primal inclination to self decorate? Apparently, the day has dawned. I can pack away my Beadazzler now.
As a designer I try to give my clients a look that suits their personalities and tastes, but will also stand the test of time. I can't help but wonder how these young people are going to feel about their bodies when they're seniors! Beauty is and always be in the eye of the beholder, but lets be real. The ravages of time and a life lived are not typically kind to our skin. Ladies, if your fortunate to live long enough, saggy boobs are bound to be on your horizon, and remember gentleman- nothing's going to look hot when your this or that is faded and shriveled. Placement, or as we say in my business, space planning- is key. Don't get me started on the excessive piercings, or those giant ear plugs and the boon that's going to turn into for plastic surgeons the world over.
Forget the housing metaphor. You're a flower.
If you're already a lily, why get gilded?
It must certainly be my age. I am after all 40 now.
Who am I? Have I officially become tragically un-hip?
Truth is I'm completely preoccupied with other people's preoccupation with the surface of things. Physician heal thyself! Do I need an artistic enlightenment, a spiritual attitude adjustment about the whole thing? It really does keep circling back to artistic expression, and this is what I know about the power of art; In its constantly evolving myriad of expressions, art possesses the emotional muscle to transform and to heal things...bringing much joy into our world along the way. So can there really ever be enough?
Maybe what I need is a tattoo of my own?
Yeah, maybe what I need to do is my part!
Clearly if I'm still tripping over this subject, my own house is in need of renovations. I dunno, it might be best for me to keep working from the inside out. Speaking of tattoos, someone needs to get a sandwich in Angelina Jolie, stat.
When Killer Bee Cherrie Hanson speaks of the magic behind her amazing bubble photography, it goes something like this...
"The alchemy of air, water, and soap bubbles form an endless variety of reflective, luminous globes. Mother Nature's daily diversity varies the unique background tones and graphic surface of the delicate bubble membrane.
Bubbles have a short life span; mere moments to dazzle those who are paying attention. Their circular shapes symbolize wholeness, unity, and infinity. I was compelled to record the existence of these simple, yet profound spheres of light.
Bubbles,Ink is a photographic anthology of soap bubbles in flight over a summer lake. The images were born in nature, not photoshop, and given life in ink.
The bubbles were studied and shot for one week, for 5 consecutive years, in the same location. The names of the photographs pay homage to the spiritual journey the artist was on at the time of conception."
Personally, I think of the peace and tranquility of the lake where they were photographed. Of the bond that was formed on a pier in the middle of Wisconsin. Of the atrophy in my wrists as I tried like hell to produce as many bubbles as possible before she lost the precious end of day light! Of squealing with delight as we reviewed "the dailys" in the viewfinder of her camera each night by the light of the bonfire. Of the honor and privilege to be just a small part of something so incredibly special.
And mostly, I think of how proud I am of my friend and her brilliant artistic endeavor. YOU GO BABY!
The amazing thing about these photographs isn't their exceptional beauty, but how people react and relate to them when in their physical presence. Everyone I know who's seen them 'has a bubble' all their own that they identify with...will you find yours at Bubbles, Ink. ? I have no doubt you will.
