
mingled with the los angeles invasion at the tomio koyama gallery for mark ryden’s “snow yak” show opening - most particularly with long gone john (who i think is great) (and not just ‘coz he buys my art) - surprised actually it wasn’t really as crowded as expected - and the white fur dress code thankfully not strictly enforced - konomi and me making only a concessional effort taking along one of our cat toys (see above pic)
happy to meet the baby-faced etsuko miura - also the even-more-beautiful-in-real-life jessika scarling (who i swapped some letters with a few years back re a possible trevor brown exhibition at the doomed-to-fail marilyn manson gallery) - haha, typical trevor, just mentioning the cute girls - did swap business cards with mister tomio koyama himself - and other important people …who’ve probably discarded them already

permitted into the “private room” for an audience with the art god himself - which unfortunately in fact meant being photographed more times than was sanely judicious (i’m totally unphotogenic) - but an opportunity to get the nice exclusive photo above of mark and marion - and the less glamourous photo of the private room wall below

oh yes, had a little look at the paintings too - eight altogether - which are technically amazing of course - every square centimeter of the unusually simple “flat” backgrounds are meticulously painted - generally i like ‘em far more than the tree show things - tho much less impressed by the superfluous room of pencil/preliminary drawings - insanely priced at $10,000 a pop (i’m definitely sticking another nought to the price of my paintings now!), nevertheless half had been snapped up - and checking the price list (with no prices actually marked) when we left, just the big million dollar painting and one other was left unsold…
hidden secret revealed: the bubbles on that centrepiece painting represent the planets of the solar system

aww how sweet
reading these kind of blogs always makes me sick with jealousy >_<
i know what you mean, bonnie. “the fabulous life of trevor brown”. haha.
the closest i get is drinking a pint at TB’s pub down the street. actually that’s a lie, i’m too scared to go there. lots of rubbidubs with stabby looks in their eyes.