different kinds of porn (part 2)

as we all know
(or as all the people who are googling this phrase and coming to my site seem to know)
porn is a wonderful thing.

it is defined as : creative activity (writing or pictures or films etc.) of no literary or artistic value other than to stimulate sexual desire.

which, for the life of me, does not sound like a bad thing. or a non-artistic thing.

for example:


that there, my friendlets, is ultimate fighting champion, somebody or the other. and while his purpose in life may be to rip the heads off of other guys in a cage match or to conquer the spartans or to simply make gerard butler look like a wimp in real life, he pretty much rocks the real life porn category.

in the same way the boy below does. only more in the alien pouty lips/scary fine cheekbones, so pretty you want to put it on a shelf. or mess it up a little. or a lot. depends on the day.


and then there's this:

is he mormon? is he a skinhead? will you care when you get it to yourself? i don't think so.

on a side note (why not, landis? you're in a rambling mood today) my tastes range wildly. always have. and there's not much more fun than "window shopping" like this. i mean, you don't have to try anything on, but the merch sure looks good from the street, don't it? ;)

there's also fashion photography porn. that insane world where anything can happen, as long as it happens in clothing that costs a mortgage payment, with perfect bounce cards all around to light the scene, and everyone looks like your ideal catwalk moment brought down to . . . well, in this case, the mud. gotta love the mud and a couture gown:



much love out to mr. meisel, for his particularly skewed take on, well, everything. in some ways it is my favorite kind of porn, it takes you radically out of the "real" and settles you in a place where possibility is the only guide, and perhaps the only expectation.

ooh. i like that. where possibility is the only expectation.

like on a real couture runway:

gaultier is a master at this. a gold leafed hand on his couture runway simply caught my imagination up and held it for days. it was a russian icon come to life, a hindu blessing in motion, a false idol given a momentary truth.

or, even, PLEASE, tiny bells down the back of a pair of hose. i mean, you can HEAR the walk, you can feel the metal weight, you can imagine the simple naughty joy they would bring. even in the supermarket. perhaps most of all in the supermarket. life needs more moments of random beauty, of things that aren't SUPPOSED to be. but simply are. so there.


and i'm not sure why, i'm not particularly enamored of this gown. it's tricky. it's not technically beautiful. but i find it almost viscerally thrilling. i WANT to know the feeling of wearing something so ridiculously impractical and so wrong to the eye. something more barbie cake topper gone rebel, and yes, that lifts it into the nearly pornographic for me. transgressive in a frothy way feels more modern today than all the leather and straps could, it breaks boundaries for the eye and for the body in a new way. i adore.

and in smaller ways, i find porn on the streets. in the day to day hit of a BIG RED BAG on a pretty girl:





and yes, i do think suri is in that bag, but still. who wouldn't secretly kill for a birkin the size of their . . . toddler? it's WRONG. but they all are such stop signs in the world of street reality that they create enough frisson to be new porn.


but here's the porn that breaks my heart. it's "porn" because i find myself going back to it again and again, stumbling over it and gasping a little, wondering if they know how wonderful, how beautiful, how slightly erotic, how alive they make me feel. it's "lost friend" porn, the kind where you find a photo of someone you once were very close to, or perhaps knew only slightly but felt connected to, or a stranger you see on the web and somehow know in a way you can't describe. it's the human web, brought to film, caught in a moment, wrapping itself around you and pulling hard. it is the frisson of life that you cannot predict, it is the gift of a www stumble, and it is indescribable.

so thank you , my friends, for these kinds of forbidden shared moments:


the ever beautiful sandra durham and her husband pete, lost to me for awhile, turning up in amsterdam, living what i can only tell is an amazing life.


the smoky and talented, rough and tumble, delicate and lively jennifer parke,
daughter of my first mentor, frank,
and a constant source of surprise.


and of course, my argentine muse, julia francioni, on some sojourn in berlin,
giving another moment of inspiration,
of colorful delight,
and probably unaware of the impact she has.

these, my friends, are the best kind of different kinds of porn.

the kinds you never see coming.

flying west, looking down -

there is no better way to see this country than from the air.
here's why:





everyone see the heart? come ON, you cynics, look for it. revel in the sweetness:

pit ball part 2 -

tim puts his exercise ball up so the dogs can't get to it,
and grr decides that if she can't PLAY with it
at least she can keep it company.

and stake claim to the lounge.

smart dog.

lounge lizard / pit bull hybrids :

i like this species. they seem friendly.

in that loungey/pit bull kind of way.

the origins of names, and winter in chi-town -

dance dance, bitches. we're going to chicago for a DAY and a HALF
for meetings and running around . . .


ah, how i have missed the skyline:


the chance to wear fur.
wait.
i just did that in nyc.

the chance to wear fur again.


a chance to see tom!
dinner at bistro 110, and a moment to breathe and catch up . . .


a last minute dinner with cindy! a last minute dinner with cindy!
(of course at blackbird. it's cindy. i had the pig dinner. suckling pig starter. pork belly entree. beignets with caramel, oranges and BACON ICE CREAM. can i hear it for bacon ice cream? seriously, y'all. it's freakin amazing. it's like bacon, but in ice cream form with maple syrup. did i mention it came with beignets. which is creole for "donuts"?)


and then,
i looked over, and remembered that summer night,
waiting for a table, when i said to tim
"you know,
that would be a cool name for a dog . . . "

this is what we all do the work for :

this makes me happy. thanks editrice.

you made my week by sharing this post:

http://fashionista.com/2008/02/post_857.php#more

moments i don't want to forget about my first time directing:

the feeling the first day that it wasn't real. literally waking up and thinking "i'll be able to check email between shots like i always do".

standing on set with darius khanji, my director of photography, the man who shot "seven" and "evita", and watching him creating light in space that i thought didn't need light. and then learning what light really meant.

the way darius would look up at me after each take and say "you are happy? what else should i do?" and thinking to myself "oh god. he's asking ME."

the night i went out with paul norman and we talked about how it was going. and he told me i was doing well and that people liked working with me. and i told him i could tell a good story, i could pick talent, i knew my music, but everything else? i was just blessed to have people better than me, teaching me. cause that was what was going on.

the flow of the amazing argentine crew by day one. the way we got TWICE the shots we ever got with any other director. the models who had never acted, yet were more natural on camera than most actors i've ever cast. because i just told them to do what they would do if they were really in the situation. and to not do anything else.

the constant, constant support.

shutting down diagonal norte, the main boulevard of buenos aires, and spending the day shooting set up after set up down the length of the street.

sam and nina. their simple, friendly, joyous chemistry. the way it radiated through the lens. that day was simply magic.

the way every time sarah ruba got on camera, i barely had to direct her. the way she reworked a scene to make it more comfortable for everyone, including me. just on instinct. the way the camera "ate" her every expression.

the stairwell at that one location, that made me feel "blade runner" but see "breakfast at tiffany's" every time nina scampered down them.

looking up and seeing connie watching me, carefully, between takes. then handing me a water bottle to keep hydrated. then sending me to bed early.

hanging butterflies on the bedroom wall, randomly, and seeing a room come to life with richard's art direction.

watching Lights perform on film with a big crew for the first time. this little pint sized powerhouse with a voice from out of nowhere. and connie and michael manacop rockin the all asian backup band, black lips, extentions and all.

the way the crew would smile after each take.

the day people started introducing me as "the director", and i didn't know how to respond.

the day people started calling me "sir", and i still didn't know how to respond.

the way i never ever felt truly tired. i felt alive. i wanted more.

the way kira would smile at everything i asked, walk away and get on the phone, then later, calmly say, "it's done, love".

the way phillipe, the assistant cameraman, and i grabbed a digital handheld and ran to an alternate location with yamila and karim, a grip, rita, richard, and a bounce card, and rattled off two critical sequences on the street while the rest of the company made a move to another location so we could get the shots and keep the schedule.

creating alternate takes on the fly.

living COMPLETELY IN THE MOMENT FOR SEVEN DAYS STRAIGHT.

convincing people we needed sequences in slow motion, and watching their faces when we did playback.

watching richard creating a traffic jam. and a garage. and a jewelry store. and a neon-lit chinatown. and gasping a little inside every time i walked up to them because they were so real, and yet too beautiful to deserve "real".

watching the style team cry as we played the raw footage back on the wall of the alley the last night.

feeling the crew applaud me at wrap. and knowing they deserved the lion's share, but were generous enough to literally share.

dancing in the street after the final take to michael jackson's remixed "i want you back".

saying to myself "that's my film".

and having paul say "no one can take that away from you now."

LANDIS SMITHERS 2.0 - "Director"

the most unexpected part of this argentine shoot,
the part that changed me the most,
involved taking a risk.

in one of those classic, last minute, down to the wire moments,
our cinematographer fell out.
kira brought us darius, under the wire.
and through a series of other events and bumps and slight bruises,
we looked at each other as a team, and decided to do things differently.

we brought along the production team that knows us so well,
we had found killer talent,
we were shooting the whole thing on camera RED, hd digital, for the first time,
and the team let me direct the film.



which even though i am holding a clacker, actually meant that our team worked harder and tighter than we ever have. richard brought beauty to the world in all the production design, betania found the talent we needed, connie locked down the music and created puppies and change from thin air, kira found land rovers in a country that didn't even import them and moved schedules to make scenes work, paul norman kept us on time and the talent on point, rita brought out emotion and subtlety in the actors, sara fisher was an actual weather witch on at least four occasions, and we collaborated every inch of the way.


you know, that is simply a recipe for heaven.


my biggest task? keeping the bigger picture and guiding the performances.
with everyone else around me at the top of their fields,
loving their game, they made it easy.


i now know that i do two things, and i do them very well:


1) i tell a great story.


2) and i know how to find people better than i am to bring that story to life.


it was the most intense time i have ever had in my career.

And because of the faith of my friends,
and the support of a brand like old navy,
it was also
the best time i have ever had.

the old navy episodes : the urban explorer commercial pt. 4

one last shot to polish off the episode . . . a little "abbey road" homage with the old navy girls:


some self styled goofing with nina keita, sara ruba, and yamila:


ah, my girls!
(catch our new shopping bag . . . not bad . . .)


and here is the last shot of the day,
lovely sarah, wandering pensively down the long gray wall in her red suit.


so chic. we've come a LONG way in a year.



(and remember, you can see it all, including lookbook and cast and music,
at: www.oldnavy.com/next)

the old navy episodes : the urban explorer commercial pt. 3

let's take it to the streets. . .
you'll remember we shut down diagonal norte for a day to shoot our ourdoor locations, and this leg of the urban explorer exploded around a vintage land rover (which we repainted to match the collection. sigh. not that i've been influenced by the movie auntie mame and the fact that rosalind russell changed everything around her every time she changed her hair color. not kidding. whole park avenue apartment redecorated to match your hair change. wardrobe too. talk about severely traumatizing a twelve year old boy. i couldn't change my SOCK COLOR in jesuit high school, let alone my non-existent park avenue apartment. is this my revenge? i don't know.)

we start with nina rocking the "urban jumper":



and let me tell you, nina keita can rock an urban jumper. dayam.

yamila in more safari wear. oh wait, look at the subtle/not so subtle branding in the background, that somehow never made it into the edit because we didn't end up shooting in that direction. sorry richard. oops.


ah, yamila, sara, sebastian, and nina. waiting. what for?


permission to get into this:





yeah, sara. i wanted to ship that baby HOME.

talk about things everyone wanted to ship home:


i'm just sayin.

here i am telling the group how to get together for a "group photo". see. . .you hold the camera like. . . this . . . rita, translate this for me, will you. kira? anyone?



ah, they figured it out.


and let's not forget the real "urban explorers".
i owe em everything:



(and remember, you can see it all, including lookbook and cast and music,
at: www.oldnavy.com/next)