A Wednesday welcome to you, my collector friends! It's getting to feel like peak season around these parts, and I'm not talking about leaf-peeping. There's a new round of Hey, Hot Shot! open, we're prepping for the gallery's upcoming Nina Berman exhibition and, of course, we're hard at work lining up some primo 20x200 editions, including some intriguing benefit editions with fantastic organizations. My first to-do for today? Presenting this week's photography offering from New Jersey's very own Jason Burch to all of you fine people.

Natural Selections XI and Natural Selections XIII are my selections from Jason's ongoing series by the same name. As he explains it, the series "explores interventions in the landscape and the photographic frame through the withdrawal of information. The process at once removes objects and highlights their presence through that absence."

Jason's work offers a fresh, and often humorous, post-photographic take on many of the themes that are of enduring interest to contemporary artists: juxtapositions of constructed and natural landscapes, humankind's impact on the environment, suburban desolation. His work is challenging; it takes me out of my comfort zone, but because it's conceptual without being impenetrable, and smart without being condescending, it's just the kind of stretch I'm so often looking for.

As is well-documented via my curatorial track record, my instinctive photographic affinities run towards lush landscapes, wordplay and the animal kingdom. I am a fan of beauty, and whether I can live with a piece of art is usually high on my list of evaluative criteria. I'm also someone who is easily bored, and who functions best off in the deep end, figuring things out as I go. Because Jason's work builds upon familiar foundations, it provides a portal into concept-based work that, quite frankly, can often be intimidating. (I like to be challenged, but, like most people, I hate feeling stupid.)

The manipulations of Natural Selections inspire me to make alterations of my own. Seeing how radically his selective exclusions alter perspectives and anthropomorphize the excluded objects makes me want to transform my own environs similarly. Eliminating objects in this way alters things in entirely improbable ways, and yet improbability reveals real things that might be otherwise overlooked. It's a new way of seeing, delineating the aforementioned contemporary themes in an accessible way.

This is the part where I'm like, "Did that make any sense?" Hopefully something in there did, at least a little bit. If not, feel free to enjoy the photos for their aesthetic value — I personally love the color palette, and find the overall effect of the removed portions of the photographs to be reminiscent of coloring books. Those two things alone make them wall-worthy in my book!

That's it for now, but like I said, I'm back tomorrow with a bonus edition. See you then!

Tuesday greetings collectors! The world heaved a collective sigh of relief yesterday as the Dow rallied. Unsurprisingly, the mood in New York was markedly different; it's amazing how tense things become when everyone's holding their breath for weeks on end!

The skeptical (not to mention cynical) New Yorker in me poked fun at the "don't forget to breathe" mantra that was oft repeated when things got tense at the San Francisco start-up I worked at over a decade ago. Now that I'm older, wiser and, believe it or not, less cynical in some ways, I can grudgingly admit to finding some wisdom in this idea. Turns out that breathing in, breathing out and how you do it is an awfully powerful thing.

This is no news to artist Ann Tarantino, whose work I am delighted to present to you today. She has built an artistic practice that honors and examines the power of this function that's at the core of our existence. The ink patterns of Far and Wide and Flying Colors map the patterns of Ann's breath on the paper.

This is how I described her technique when I first introduced Ann's work* to 20x200 collectors just over a year ago: The Breath Portraits are the product of a new kind of action painting: the foundation of this series is patterns Ann creates by blowing ink through a straw. She goes on to embellish the work with paint and ink, adding purpose and intention to the (somewhat) random outcome that her breath initially creates.

It's an interesting contrast - the idea of the control of one's breath and yet only having so much power over its outcome, which is then followed by the attention and focus of emotion and intellect. It's an exercise in letting go and also taking charge of what you're able to. There is something of an Eastern vibe, which makes sense, considering that Ann started working on the series while residing in Kyoto.

Ann has further extended her practice via a collaboration with fellow artist Kate McGraw, creating a body of work which is now on view in Washington D.C. at Andrea Pollan's innovative gallery, Curator's Office. A Washington Post Express Critic's Pick, Potential Energy — A Collaboration, features work that "is essentially rooted in acts of performance and a reflection upon the simultaneous vulnerability and power of the physical self."

The influence that each artist had upon the other was clearly profound, and the results are stunning. Ms. Pollan, in describing the collaboration, writes: "During that time, their separate processes - indeed, their identities - were fused into something new that has become a meditation on the act of exchange, process and conversation." If you're going to be in D.C. sometime before the exhibition closes on October 25th, I urge you to check it out in person. Alternatively, you can browse the works online.

One last note before I go: Those of you who aren't frequent readers of the 20x200 blog probably missed out on our Weekend Special, announced there late on Friday afternoon. It's not too late! The offer has been extended through midnight tonight. Use code 20off2k at checkout to get 20% off when you purchase any of our large prints.

And with that, I'm off till tomorrow, when I'll return with this week's photography offering. Look for me then!

*A few prints of Breath Portrait (favorite colors), which is a lovely companion to today's two prints, remain. "Collect the whole set!" sez I.

Thursday bonus greetings, my collector pals. I'm really pleased to have a new edition from the lovely and talented Ms. Mickey Smith. Not only is the edition fantastico, as you are seeing with your very own eyes, it also gives me the opportunity to tell you about all of Mickey's upcoming projects and events. (There are lots!)

Let's start with the edition, MORE BOOKS, which is our second offering from Mickey's ongoing series, Volume. When I announced WORD STUDY from Paris last November, I talked about my word nerd ways, my love of crosswords and my geeky interest in etymology. Unsurprisingly, this love extends to books themselves, the wonderful objects that they are.

MORE BOOKS, I always want more. It requires considerable force of will to restrain myself, and my acquisitive desires often win out. I never feel bad about it though, because books are good for you! My recent short, unsatisfying affair with the Kindle only made my love for the printed medium that much stronger. There's really nothing like a book, and let's face it: books don't need batteries.

Alas, the whole point of Mickey's project is that there are ever fewer books, which is really quite tragic. Make no mistake, I am no Luddite. I'm pretty much at the top of the cheerleading pyramid when it comes to technology, the internet and the democratization of media. The simple fact is, however, the transience and mutability of digital media can't hold a candle to the books lining my shelves. Those shelves hold knowledge and memories and connections in a way that a generic electronic device just doesn't, and I find comfort in their existence.

Bibliomania is a common affliction, which probably has something to do with how wildly popular the Volume series has been. And what a series it is! With your taste whetted here on 20x200, you might be wanting more Mickey. Lucky you, there's lots to see!

First and foremost, anyone within driving distance of Woodstock, NY should get their butts there this weekend. (I'm trying to figure out how to get there myself!) The Center for Photography at Woodstock is hosting Mickey's Collocations exhibition through October 30th, but this is the absolute best weekend to go because Saturday evening is their 30th Annual Benefit Gala and Auction. The auction includes tons of spectacular works from established and emerging artists alike, including Ms. Smith herself.

It doesn't stop there, though — Mickey is showing work all over the world right now, at an impressive array of venues. I'm personally most excited about her NYC solo show, You People, which opens at my friend Ben Tischer's new gallery, Invisible-Exports, on November 14th. You can read up on all the details of Mickey's exhibition schedule on the 20x200 blog or pay a visit to her own site.

Now that you've got lots of reading material to keep you busy, I'm going to skedaddle. Be on the lookout tomorrow though, because I have another surprise up my sleeve.

Wednesday greetings, my collector friends. As regular readers of the newsletter know, this is the part where I talk about the weather, which is cool and crisp today. Of course, like everyone else I know, I am more than a little preoccupied with our economic and political climates. It's a serious and uncertain time, and it seems odd to not acknowledge it. So here it is, acknowledged and largely beyond our control. While it's impossible to cast worry aside entirely, I am putting my money on hope and change.

We're in onward and upward mode at JBP HQ, and it feels exactly right. Our new Hey, Hot Shot! site went live yesterday, and we've got lots of great 20x200 editions coming up, along with a surprise or two. First things first, though! Let me tell you about today's editions from winter '07 Hot Shot Jeffrey Krolick.

Fence by Railroad Parcel, Ashland Oregon and Driveway, Ashland Oregon are from Jeff's series entitled On the Edge of Town. In his statement, he cites "Walt Whitman's stance of treating all moments as of equal consequence" as inspiring his approach, which makes total sense to me. Jeffrey's photos remind me a lot of the work of my own favorite poet, Frank O'Hara, which might seem like a confusing correlation at first blush.

O'Hara is most well known for his Lunch Poems, a small slim volume of his "walking" poems that he composed while on his lunch breaks in midtown Manhattan, where he was a curator at MoMA. In my mind, Jeffrey's images are visual versions of these poems, albeit executed in a very different milieu. Both artists are celebrating the every day in their work, venerating small things and reminding us to look closer.

I welcome these kinds of reminders, because sometimes I am going so fast that I forget to look around. I read without comprehending, or barrel through a day without noticing whether the sky is blue or not. Remembering to look is grounding, comforting and often inspiring. You should never be bored, or lack for beauty. It's around us, everywhere, all the time.

An autumnal "Aloha!" to each of you! (And an alliterative one at that.) It's sweater weather at long last here in NYC and I know for I fact that I'm not the only one awaiting the comforting clank-clank-clunk of the steam pipes awakening from their summer slumber. While the nippy clime might make the floorboards a bit too chilly for lounging about the house, it's absolutely perfect for the urban exploration and country road trips depicted in today's duo of prints, The Weight of the Bridge and Mercedes Planter, by Amy Park.

The Weight of the Bridge gives us a fresh perspective on the iconic Brooklyn Bridge, both literally and figuratively. Amy's distinctive palette and her amazing way with watercolor, first introduced to 20x200 collectors with her earlier edition Corner Light Monadnock, infuse the cityscape with a gravitas and moodiness that make me look at our fair city's monumental structures in a whole new way.

With Mercedes Planter she marries her signature architectural angularity with a loosely rendered, bright palette. Her effortless execution of a rather precarious balancing act is inspiring, echoing the city vs. small town question that so many urban denizens struggle with. Our inner city mouse and country mouse might be able to co-habitate peacefully after all!

Amy's renderings of NYC subjects have a film noir feeling, but they're resolutely contemporary. Her restraint and the control she exerts over the imprecision of watercolor are impressive. With all this angularity and restraint, you might begin to think that someone is sort of uptight. Maybe the city's gotten to them, in not such a good way?* That's why Mercedes Planter is like a sigh of relief. Ms. Park has taken her rigor for a ride, and the fresh air does it a world of good.

Speaking of which, the pooch is agitating for her afternoon walk, so I'm headed off for a bit of fresh air myself. I'm back tomorrow with our photography offering of the week. See you then!

* Having met Amy in person, I can assure you that she isn't uptight. I am so totally projecting here!

A wordy Wednesday welcome to all of you! We're bringing the verbosity this week in 20x200 land, following up Linzie Hunter's immensely popular Coney with two photographs from Kotama Bouabane which also play with words.

Just Let It Go and I'm Not Mad are two of my favorites from this Toronto-based photographer's witty series Melting Words. I first saw Kotama's work a few months ago on the excellent design blog Swiss Miss and was immediately smitten. Words! Photography! Humor! Ennui! These are a few of my favorite things.

The phrases in the series are stand-ins for the estranged, with their muffled emotion quite literally melting away in the places where lovers might meet (a bed) or part (over lunch, in a public place) or, once alone, reflect (staring out a window.)

The scenes and phrases from romantic squabbles are instantly recognizable, and look at how they linger: solid, then soaking in as they dissipate before entirely taking their leave. Ice, it turns out, is a particularly poignant and fitting medium for these words.

It's all kind of bleak, huh? And yet: the photographs are not! They're funny, albeit in a way that makes you a little uncomfortable. As Sara just said to me over IM, it's funny because it's true. And finding humor in life's uncomfortable truths is, ultimately, optimistic.

On that bright note, my work is done here for now. I'll be back next week with more more more. In the meanwhile, there's plenty of 20x200 to keep you busy: browse the archives, read the blog, or join us on Facebook where you can send some virtual 20x200 love to your friends.

Tuesday greetings, collectors! NYC is quiet today, as many people are ringing in the Jewish New Year (L'shana Tovah!) while the rest of us are collectively holding our breath, waiting to see whether the Wall St. roller coaster will dip or creak upwards today.

Today's edition Coney honors the home of that other legendary (and legendarily creaky) NYC roller coaster, The Cyclone. As per usual, our editions are archival pigment prints produced on 100% cotton rag paper and are available in three sizes:

11"x8.5"
Edition of 200
$20 each.

22"x17"
Edition of 20
$200 each

40"x30"
Edition of 2
$2000 each

The fate of Coney Island, along with that of its bedraggled and beloved amusement park, Astroland, has been hanging in the balance for a couple of years now. As of this writing, it appears that Astroland is closed for good as of the end of this season. (But really, who knows? We've heard this story before.) Breaking IM alert from across the room: Bloomie wants a reprieve! (See what I mean? Only in New York, kids.)

Opened, closed or under renovation, Coney Island holds a special place in the hearts of every person here at JBP HQ. Ms. Wendell very recently got engaged atop the Wonder Wheel. That's the very same Ferris wheel that I delighted in riding with my grandfather as my grandmother and brother watched from below. (Chickens, the both of them!) Raul goes there frequently with his brood.

That's just scratching the surface, of course, as each of us has had more than a few memorable adventures along those boardwalks. The truth is that almost every New Yorker has a soft spot for the place, and it also lives on in the memories and imaginations of people all over the world, including that of our artist, Scottish-born Londoner Linzie Hunter.

Linzie's previous 20x200 editions, Say Goodbye and Boundless documented an entirely different kind of carny freak show, namely the strange universe of spam. These two worlds are currently colliding in an exhibition evocatively entitled Hot Rods and Hairy Beasts, which is on view at London's Coningsby Gallery through this Saturday, October 4th. For more details check out Kara's post on the 20x200 blog. If you're going to be in London, it's closing soon, so get yourself over there!

As for Coney Island, with its fate clearly uncertain, I encourage everyone to make their pilgrimage now, while the weather is still fine and the Wonder Wheel is still turning. Also now going, going and sure to be gone in not too long is Ms. Hunter's edition. Buy one now, while you still can.

I'm back tomorrow with words and pictures. (And, in fact, pictures of words.) See you then!

Wednesday greetings to all you fine collector folks. Did you know that today is National Punctuation Day? I did not, but was thrilled to discover it. Grammatical goodness and elephant appreciation all in one week!? Mercy me, I'm overcome. Next thing you know, someone will email me a link about Frank O'Hara appreciation day being this Friday, or some such thing.

In other appreciation news, I proclaim it JB BFF Appreciation Week here on 20x200. Today's photography editions Needle-Needle-Nee and Close Call are by Coke Wisdom O'Neal, who went from being Facebook friend number eight-hundred-and-thirty-something to #1 favorite on my iPhone in record time. It's a fitting follow up to yesterday's bookish editions from #1 girl crush Ms. Jane Mount (who assured me via IM that the feelings are mutual. Phew.)

In spite of their very different approaches, these two artists actually have more in common than being objects of my unending affection. Both are creating portraits of people via their things, providing glimpses into what Coke describes as the "unguarded identity" of their owners.

Another BFF of mine, David Steward, once described New Yorkers' preoccupation with fashion and appearance as "carrying their houses around on their backs." With most of us living in cramped quarters, we tend to convene in bars and restaurants for our socializing. An invitation to someone's home for dinner is a rare thing indeed, making access to someone's medicine cabinets (or bookshelves) an unusual happenstance in and of itself. Who can blame us then, for seizing upon these infrequent opportunities to plumb the depths of our hosts' psyches?*

Coke's side job as an architectural photographer has given him ample opportunity to plumb these depths, and plumb them he has. I'm particularly taken with the narrative and cinematic potential contained within each portrait. As I've mentioned before, I love an image that tells a story, and these images are particularly ripe with potential plot lines.

The prints themselves are pretty amazing too. Coke chose to make digital c-prints, using a metallic paper that works perfectly with the surfaces of the cabinets and their contents. Even better, the image dimensions of the largest prints in each edition are the exact size of the original cabinets, giving a well-trimmed print a sort of tromp l'oeil presence.

As I mentioned, Coke and I met via Facebook. I added him since I was familiar with (and a fan of) his work, and he subsequently messaged me, suggesting that I should develop an iPhone app. I countered with a suggestion that he do a 20x200 edition. He ponied up with the editions right away, but the iPhone app is still in development (really!) Not wanting to appear app-less, I created a 20x200 application [note: you must be logged in to Fb for that link to work] which allows you to share 20x200 art with your Facebook friends.

That's 4 prints + 1 app so far this week, which is a whole lotta 20x200 love. But that's not all, I've got more love to give — there's a bonus edition coming from a 20x200 fave on Friday, so keep an eye on your inbox and look for me then.

*Naturally, I'd never crack open someone's medicine cabinet for any reason beyond needing an Advil or two to address a splitting headache, but I do confess that I've removed a prospect or two from the dating pool based on my evaluation of his library.

Autumnal Tuesday greetings, collectors! The fickle weather has made my iced-or-hot coffee decision unpredictably variable, confusing the counter people at my morning haunt. After polishing off a piping hot cup today, I returned home for a costume change. My dog-walking chic ensemble discarded, I am now outfitted in my beloved motorcycle boots, an engineer-striped skirt (a more fashionable interpretation of the ubiquitous overalls of my early 20s) and a long sleeve tee.

Tights and boots season, at long last! Such bliss, especially after exceeding my (admittedly low) threshold for high heels yesterday, teetering about in them long after the Important Meeting I donned them for was through. In keeping with back-to-school vibe that such seasonality inspires, I have two bookish editions to introduce today.

The utterly charming Bookshelf 29 and Bookshelf 20 are print editions based on original watercolors by Renaissance woman Jane Mount. I discovered Jane's work via the very enjoyable art and design blog my love for you is a stampede of horses and snapped up one of the originals via Etsy. Having judged her by her bookshelves, which held much in common with my own, I wanted to know more. A cursory Google-stalking of Ms. Mount and suddenly I had myself the biggest friend-crush I've had in a long time. (Who wouldn't?)

I don't use the term Renaissance woman lightly in describing Jane. An artist at heart, she's enviably accomplished in a variety of disciplines, tackling web, print and interior design with equal aplomb. I'm especially appreciative of her talents since my own ability to produce anything visually appealing, by my own hand, is limited to my excellent penmanship. Then on top of it, she's got a way with words! And she's an experienced entrepreneur and a stylish dresser to boot. She even knows a thing or two about wine, knowledge that she's generously shared with me since we took our relationship from the virtual to the real. (I'm not one to let a crush languish for long.)

Jane came into JBP HQ for a meeting several weeks ago; we talked about working together on one small design related project. As if! Flash forward to now: she's involved with almost every project we've got going (and you know that's a lot) and I'm courting her to come work with us full time.

That she's talented makes her a great addition to our team, but her omnivorous curiosity is what brings her into the family fold so easily. We're all possessed of similarly voracious appetites for a wide variety of things: architecture, art, photography, dumplings, champagne, shoes, ferris wheels, letterpress, Coke in bottles, apple-picking, bridge-crossing and naturally, books — all these things inform our work in one way or another. We've all got bookshelves with an eclecticism on par with Jane's, which is part of why these editions are so appealing.

The neat row of well-used notebooks was an instant favorite in the office. Moleskine fanatics one and all, each of us has a different favorite. Lately I'm a fan of the pocket-sized reporter, while a friend has been making some charming drawings in the storyboard version. We gave our Hey, Hot Shot! panelists craft-paper covered cahiers customized with 20x200 stickers at a recent panel review. The Moleskine dream? Custom embossed ones, with the 20x200 logo of course!

The Moleskines are in good company with the architecture-heavy shelf we chose to feature. I encourage you to check out any one of the titles depicted; they're bound to get the creative juices flowing. Thanks to the hard work of Ms. Distin, we've got a linked up reading list to share, listed left to right:

S,M,L,XL
John Pawson Works
(Un)fashion
A Mysterious Unmarked Slim White Book
McSweeney's Issue 13
Elysian Fields
Chemistry Book
Acme Novelty Datebook
1000 Extraordinary Objects
Moleskine Red Pocket Daily Planner
Mutations
Experience and Nature
Art As Experience

Having filled your day with art and books and art of books, I'm going to skedaddle. I'm back tomorrow with another double photography edition, one that I'm also quite excited to share with all of you.

Greetings collectors! Welcome to your Wednesday dispatch from 20x200 land. I'm a bit bleary-eyed today, having indulged in a night out on the town that kept me up past 2 a.m. One of my favorite things about NYC is that you can stay out till the wee hours on any night of the week; there's always something entertaining going on, usually lots of things, in fact. I might not do it all that often, but there's something comforting about knowing that it's there.

This need for 24 hour living is integral to my city girl identity, which means that all my country living fantasies are just that. I must confess, however, that today's photographs are gorgeous enough to make me consider turning in my night owl wings for a more bucolic life.

Hay Harvest, New Jersey and Cotton Field, Mississippi are from Farms, an evolving body of work by Shuli Hallak. Shuli is a Summer '07 Hot Shot, a recent SVA MFA Photo grad and someone who I happily run into out and about at various photography events in New York City and beyond.

Visually, this new body of work might seem like a dramatic departure from the hard-edged nighttime shots of her Cargo series, but it is gorgeous and monumental evidence of Shuli's ongoing investigation of what she describes as "nearly invisible networks that we depend on but of which we know very little."

The Farms series is particularly resonant for me right now since my literate lefty leanings having me thinking, reading and talking a lot about Slow Food, sustainable agriculture, CSAs and really getting to the bottom of where bacon comes from. Being a city girl makes all of this stuff that much more of a mystery, giving me a voracious appetite for words and images on such matters, not to mention its delicious results. (Although I'm not unquestioning about the inherent privilege of being able to preoccupy myself with such things.)

Many of the photographers that I work with are developing projects related to farms, sustainability and the environment. It's been interesting to see how each artist's individual style is manifested in the results. One of the things that I like so much about the images of Shuli's series is that they are hers, clearly kin to Cargo in spite of the very different subjects, colors, light and environment. To me, being able to establish a distinctive visual style and carry it across a diversity of subjects is one of the true indicators that a photographer is talented.

All this talk of farms and food has given me a hankering for some fresh air and fancy treats. With the editions explicated, that's my cue to take my leave and head out into the sunny afternoon to sniff out some sustenance. As always, you won't have to miss me for long; there's lots of good art in the hopper and I'll be back soon to share it with all of you.

Tumultuous Tuesday greetings, collectors! I'm sitting amidst a swirl of activity in JBP HQ, snacking on raspberries that taste like summertime. Autumn is in the air however, as evidenced by the jaunty miniature pumpkin that I brought into the office today. Now that we've finally cleared the queue resulting from a late season pile-up, Team 20x200 is fully future focused. The last of the orders which have been (uncharacteristically) delayed are on their merry way to collectors the world over, and we're stocking the shelves with all kinds of arty goodness for the coming season and beyond.

Today's eclectic editions from Jason Polan have a back-to-school vibe of their very own, in my mind at least. Back to school means field trips, and field trips mean visits to the Museum of Natural History, and regular readers know well how I feel about field trips! Combine my field trip fondness with my abiding affection for Jason and his endlessly inspiring projects, throw in a dash of birdy goodness and we get 132 Birds at The American Museum of Natural History.

As with other offerings from the mind of Mr. Polan, this edition is simultaneously dead simple and a little complicated. It's simple in the sense that he's doing that thing he does so well: cataloging something that captures his interest with his deft and charming drawings. It's complicated in the sense that he always forces us to mess with the 20x200 structure by doing things differently on every level. This particular project breaks down thusly:

The edition of 200 pieces at $20 each are booklets hand made by Jason, entitled 132 Birds at The American Museum of Natural History. Each photocopied booklet is signed in pencil with an original ink drawing of a bird on the cover. They are classic Jason lo-fi high art — humble materials assembled into something that's unique, hand made and individually signed.

The edition of 20 pieces at $200 each are original 16"x12" drawings of a single bird from the museum. (Each drawing will be of a different bird). The work will be hand drawn with a mixture of India ink, acrylic paint and other materials on archival paper. These are two examples of medium bird drawings: Barn Owl and Brandt Cormorant.

The edition of 2 pieces at $2000 each are original 29.5"x39.5" drawings of a bird from the museum. (Each drawing will be of a different bird). The work will be hand drawn with a mixture of India ink, acrylic paint and other materials on archival paper. A copy of the booklet 132 Birds at The American Museum of Natural History will be included with each large drawing.

You'd think that all this booklet making and bird drawing would keep Jason busy enough, but there's even more that he's up to! Kara's been trying to keep pace with his prolificacy, posting about his video projects, group shows and funny money over on the 20x200 blog. But wait, there's more, as detailed in a late night dispatch I received from the fella himself mere hours ago:

here are a couple of things that are
coming up. a solo show [ed. note: !!!] at glenn horowitz bookseller in east hampton. it is november 15. i am also doing the project November 2 with esopus for the editions/artists' book fair [ed note: very much looking forward to this] and the millard fillmore bills are still available too.
thanks jen. i am falling asleep right now.

As if he ever sleeps? I mean really, how could he with all that stuff to do? And speaking of stuff to do, it's time for my segue into farewell, as there's plenty to do around here too. So I'm going to hop to it, but as usual, I'll be back tomorrow with this week's photography offering. See you then!

Good day to you, my collector pals, and welcome to the Wednesday edition of 20x200. I am not going to talk about the weather today except to say that it's most fine. And I'm not going to talk about my tiredness except to say that I went to bed at 3:30 a.m. and got up just a few hours later.

I am going to apologize for teasing you all last week with word of a 20x200 surprise that was due Monday. SO sorry! We're still putting the finishing touches on the details, but I promise it's coming soon. I will also mention that Carrie Marill's show is opening at the gallery the day after tomorrow, because we installed it yesterday and wow! It looks great, super fantastic in fact, and is quite a departure from the ordinary for both Ms. Marill and the gallery itself.

Now on to what's most important for the 20x200 addicted, today's photography editions, Untitled 2 (raft) and Untitled 5 (wallpaper). These quiet and lovely photos are by Dan Boardman, another member of the JB family by way of his participation in the Summer '07 edition of Hey, Hot Shot!, where he also exhibited work from this series, Home. His statement, much like the work itself, is simple and charming and (dare I say it?) sweet:

To grow up in a small town is to always be looking for something bigger, to be looking out to the next chapter, waiting, daydreaming. To move away from a small town is to long for its innocence and its comfort.

As it has been amply evidenced here, I am a fan of the square format for photography. My enthusiasm about the opportunities for elegant composition within an equally sided image are apparently infectious. (Not to mention alliterative, I see.) A friend is newly fixated on getting himself a Hasselblad and has rented one for the upcoming weekend, just to be sure. I don't even need to see the results! I am sure already.

What could be better than a square photo? Why, two square photos, naturally, especially two that go together as well as these do. All of the images from Home bring out the tender-hearted sentimentalist in me*, but I love how these two are the same and different all at once.

The compositional similarities practically hit you over the head, so much so that I was slightly sheepish when suggesting the pairing to my JBP cohorts. The counterpoints are perhaps a little more subtle — the opposition of the expansive outdoors against the intimate interior, the bright, cool blues and greens vs. the creamy intimacy of the domestic tableau. It's divine, if you ask me, and the sum of them is better than either on its own.

And with that (and with the acknowledgment that I need to come up with some new segue phrasing) I will leave you on your own for the balance of this week. There's a good chance I'll be back sooner than Tuesday with word on our special project, but the aforementioned opening of Doing a Lot with Very Little may well leave me with little time to spare.

If you're in NYC come see us at Jen Bekman Gallery! You'll find us toasting Carrie and ogling her fabulous work at 6 Spring St. from 6 p.m. — 8 p.m. on Friday, September 12th. (Toasting isn't your thing? You can ogle independently anytime between noon and 6 p.m., Wednesday through Saturday, from September 13th through October 18th.) If you're afar, tune in to the 20x200 blog where the capable Ms. Canal has things humming along quite nicely.

See you soon!

*As if she needed coaxing.

With today's duo of editions, we continue our celebration of Carrie Marill's NYC solo debut Doing a Lot with Very Little. House Plant 2 and House Plant 3 are both based on original paintings which you'll be able to see live and in person on Friday evening at the gallery.

As Carrie said at dinner last night, the work that she's made for this exhibition is about seeing, which I interpret as remembering to look. The quiet, delicate presence of her humble house plants reminds me that the most mundane things can anchor a moment and define a memory. We all have an idea of a house plant, but Carrie is remembering specific plants, which she contemplated at specific moments, in a specific place. In detailing the intricate geometry of branches and leaves and noticing the way the plants in 2 seem to stretch together towards an unseen sun, she is creating a richer connection to the time and the place that she remembered to see them. She's taken some plants, and turned them into those plants, the ones that were there when she was, if you will, doing a lot with very little.

I fear that perhaps I am making no sense, so I'll try to give you another example. The other night, I was at a reading. There was a lot going on. On stage were two charismatic presences, the writer Augusten Burroughs and singer/songwriter Tegan (without Sara.) The room was full, of people and books and energy. The air held a lot too: sounds, smells, light. The floor boards creaked and maybe the chairs weren't so comfortable. It was a lot to take in, so much so that I felt myself in danger of taking in nothing at all. So I did this thing I do sometimes (I suggest you try it, it works!)

I decided to look, and to see. I fixed my eyes on the tall slim case of books situated on the wall, behind the stage, behind and between Tegan and Augusten, with two very large windows on either side of it. It was the Classical Music section. There was a Jazz book shelved wrongly, so it stood out. When I think about the book and its silver lettering along a blue spine, I can hear the burr of the grinder from the cafe behind me, and the click of the shutter from the photographer who sat next to me. And I remember the socks that my friend who was sitting beside me was wearing. And how narrow Tegan's jeans were, and how sinewy Augusten is and the strange timbre of his voice when he read.

I went back to that classical music shelf, and expanded my view to the windows flanking it which looked onto other windows, behind which were George Nelson lamps and sleek aluminum chairs. Their coldness, and the richness they implied, made me listen harder to Tegan's guitar playing, and look more closely at the faces of the audience. It made me appreciate that much more how great the Housing Works Bookstore is, with its dark wood, its unpredictable selection and its readings and performances. It reminded me of conversations I've been having with another friend of mine, one who grew up here in New York like I did, about the things that are disappearing and how we remember them and what they actually mean.

My point is this: in remembering to see something, I fired up every other sense as well. I made a memory of something that might have been forgotten, and the memory connects to a lot of things beyond that specific place and time. Carrie's way of seeing reminds me of this, which may or may not be her intention, but I have a feeling she'll enjoy the association regardless. And speaking of Carrie and seeing, I need to go see her right this very minute.

You? I'll see you tomorrow!

Very Special Day* greetings, 20x200 collectors! One year ago today I announced the first six 20x200 editions and we haven't had a chance to catch our breath since. What a year it has been! We've released 120 editions by 84 artists and we've shipped over 20,000 prints to thousands of collectors all over the world. Those are some impressive numbers, but what's most important to me about 20x200 is the quality of the experience, and continued commitment to our core values as we grow.

In honor of our anniversary date, I present to you Bonaparte 9 and Ziggurat 5 from Karin Spraggs and Adrienne Wong, the ultra-talented duo behind Superdeluxe.

We've been trying to figure out a cool project to do with these talented women for awhile, since getting to know each other in the hallways of the building that houses their studio and JBP HQ. I could often be found craning my neck to get a peek into the crafty, cheery clutter of their studio, attracted by the din of animated conversation and clack, clack, clack of small machinery. Then I saw Karin in the hall one day and complimented her on her awesome gold shoes and they finally (hehe) invited me in! One look at their typography-obsessed work, I was a goner. (Their laid back but stylish style sure doesn't hurt either.)

I've long been obsessed with both these numbers, since this date also happens to be my birthday. (How I can be obsessed with numbers and yet so bad at arithmetic is a mystery to me.) The number 5 is especially important to me, having popped up in street addresses current and past and in the birthdays of people beloved to me. Another obsession of mine: typography. And you know how much I love bright colors. And um, letterpress? Current obsession #1. (Just ask dozens of Etsy letterpress vendors, they'll tell you.) In other words, I am in love with these editions!

Aside from the special significance of these numbers, I have really enjoyed how Adrienne and Karin have adapted our process to fit in with their practice, which centers on hand-crafted, tactile silkscreen and letterpress. They've included those elements in their 20x200 editions by using letterpress for the medium prints and silkscreen for the 2 large pieces. It's a perfect marriage of art and technology, just like 20x200!

I've got a bottle of champagne on ice and a party frock to put on, so I'm going to wish you a most bon of weekends and take my leave for now. Once I'm done with the champagne and celebration, I'll be putting the finishing touches on a special thank you we've been cooking up for all you fine collector folks. Details for that will be announced on Monday, so look for me then.

* Special for 30 some-odd years prior because it happens to also be my birthday.

Wednesday (that feels like Tuesday, in a week where I could really use an extra day to begin with) greetings, my fine collector friends! Kids are back to school, we are back to work and things are positively thrumming in NYC. Industriousness aside, there are about a million openings, benefits and confabs I want to, or simply must, attend. Many of them seem to be happening at precisely the same time, in the most geographically disparate locales possible on the small isle of Manhattan.

Even Brooklyn has made it on to my agenda; there's a Very Important Party this evening for a certain jeune fille's birthday. Seeing as she came all the way from Lyon for cupcakes in Williamsburg, I'm going to do my very best to get myself to the festivities. (Although obliging myself to a belated celebration in Lyon is not entirely lacking in appeal.)

Today's duo of photography editions, Untitled (Max) and Untitled (Arika), by Fall '05 Hot Shot Dorthe Alstrup, is so very perfect for this festive week. I was positively giddy (seriously, I think I squealed) when Dorthe agreed to do an edition with Max. That particular photo was used as a placeholder while we were putting together the prototype of the site, so it's a long-standing favorite at JBP HQ. Paired with the equally lovely Arika, the narrative is expanded while providing another perspective on Dorthe's truly inspired staging.

When I say to you that I find these photos utterly captivating, I mean it.* They provoke emotional responses in me so strong that I can only describe them in bodily terms which border on the corny: a sort of elation that puts me somewhere above ground like the balloons, a joyfulness that makes my heart feel full, a nostalgia that makes the scents, sounds and textures of childhood nearly tangible. I like being reminded that physical euphemisms for emotional responses are grounded in actual experience, and these photos do exactly that. Results of a straw poll, conducted largely over IM, indicate that I am not alone in my enthusiasm for the photos. To wit, here's a conversation I had this very morning with my new favorite person, let's call him Deardorff, who happens to be a photographer himself:

Deardorff: I love when photographer fills space with objects.
Jen: I think they're really beautiful and they remind me of a lot of things.
Deardorff: They are
Jen: The balloons look like champagne to me, and you know how I love champagne.
Deardorff: They remind me of overwhelming childhood memories. Like looking at your past but with filters.
Jen: Yes, like being a kid at grownup parties, even though balloons are kid partyish. i was thinking about falling asleep in someone's guest room on top of a pile of coats.
Deardorff: fur coats, mmmmmmmm

I was certain that the images would appeal to another friend of mine, let's call her Rococo. I knew she'd be entranced by the luxurious tableau and the old world feel, but I had no idea just how entranced! Her response:

Jen: Tell me what you like about them.
Ms. Rococo: The juxtaposition of the celebration and the luxe, calme et volupté... It is like decadence without the darkness, it is sunny and light. Baudelaire minus his shadow.
Jen: Perfection!
Ms. Rococo: You know that poem by Baudelaire? Invitation to the Voyage?

I wasn't familiar with the poem, but it turns out that Ms. Rococo was spot on:
Gleaming furniture,
Polished by the years,
Will ornament our bedroom;
The rarest flowers
Mingling their fragrance
With the faint scent of amber,
The ornate ceilings,
The limpid mirrors,
The oriental splendor,
All would whisper there
Secretly to the soul
In its soft, native language.

There all is order and beauty,
Luxury, peace, and pleasure.

And with that bit of lyricism, I'll bring today's newsletter to a close. I'm not quite done for the week yet, however. I've got some anniversary related surprises up my sleeve, so you'll be hearing from me again very soon. Be on the lookout!

*Sometimes I have a hard time coming up with the appropriate superlatives to use when talking about our editions. I try my best not to be repetitive, and I never want to seem insincere. (Insincerity is not my bag, for better or for worse, I'm a heart on my sleeve kind of girl.)

Back to school Tuesday greetings, collector friends! Last night I shared a toast with a six year old (fruit juice, of course) to the last day of summer and the first day of school. I'll end the week on Friday, September 5th, with a toast (bubbly, of the alcoholic variety, of course, preferably pink because it's so festive) to 20x200's one year anniversary. These two toasts will bookend feverish fall season preparations and the announcement of several outstanding editions, the first of which is today's offering from the talented Carrie Marill.

Space and Illusion is one of the many jewel-like paintings that will soon be hanging on the walls of Jen Bekman Gallery as part of Carrie's NYC solo debut exhibition, Doing a Lot with Very Little. Enthusiasm for new exhibitions is pretty much a prerequisite for doing my job well, but in this instance I am especially enthusiastically enthused about the thematic substance of the work in the show.

Being a long time internet nerd, and having dabbled in virtual worlds, issues of representation of physical objects (not to mention our physical selves) on screen have always been of interest to me. My nerd credentials, combined with the necessity borne of the gallery's cramped quarters, meant that I was perfectly comfortable evaluating work via .jpg long before it became an accepted practice in the art world. I know very well that what you see on screen is not exactly what you get, but being well versed in the anomalies and limitations of the digital realm has turned me into an expert extrapolator.

20x200 has taken my extrapolatory practice up to warp speed, and its acceleration has generated a lot of thought and conversation about art, reproduction and technology. When Carrie was preparing for this exhibition she told me that it's gotten to the point that she needs to be able to look at a painting as a .jpg before she can even know for sure what it looks like, and I was like, "Totally!" I was so relieved to hear someone who made art say something that I was somewhat secretly ashamed of experiencing myself.

Why ashamed though, really? There's an inherent practicality to the concept, as Carrie pointed out, because while many people see exhibitions in person, many more will only ever see the work on view in the virtual realm. (Aside from that, many people who see it in person will have seen it online before doing so. Whoa.)

One of the things that I love about 20x200 is how it expands the impact of an image and its underlying ideas. We've gotten to the point that our limited editions can sell out at lightning speed, as many 20x200 fans can attest. Nonetheless, all of you collectors who get these newsletters experience the art we show, and its attendant ideas, as something that you quite literally have access to. The work is affordable to most people, and so if your timing is right, you can own it. It's not in a museum, and it's not in a gallery with prices well beyond the means of most mere mortals.

I think that evaluating art with that knowledge in mind fundamentally changes how you experience it. In fact, judging from the emails I've received from collectors, I'm certain of it. I'm equally as certain that there is incredible variation in these individual experiences, which is part of the fun of it.

All of these ideas shake things up quite a bit, in the best possible way. (Although it does make it harder to get a good night's sleep, prone as I am to trying to untangle these things in the wee hours of the morning.) I like Carrie's shake up too — the paintings in the show are so lovely, and while they are very much in her style, they're also very different from the work of hers I've shown so far, both here on 20x200 and in the gallery. That it's different , at least in part, because of 20x200 means that sharing it here is bringing us full circle.

And with the circle unbroken, I am taking my leave for the day. I'm back tomorrow with a double dose of photo goodness that I cannot wait to release into the atmosphere. See you then!

Greetings, collectors! It sort of feels like Thursday around these parts, or maybe even Friday? Except for the weather, it's mostly like that weird time between Christmas and the New Year when street parking is abundant and the only people in town are moving slowly down the street, maps aloft and rucksacks on their shoulders. What I'm saying is: things are mighty quiet going into this last long weekend of summertime. As for me? In the words of a long-time heroine of mine: I'm still here, damn it!, with excellent art to share, no less!

Today's double header comes to us from another of our recent Hot Shots, Chicago native Colleen Plumb. These two images, Field Museum Sue and Tiger Rug, Cabrini Green, are from Animals Are Outside Today.

I've seen many a series exploring our relations with the animal kingdom, but few have resonated for me in the way that Colleen's project does. It could be that we both grew up in big cities, limiting our experiences with nature to pets, zoos, museums and painstakingly planned outings for some fresh country air. (Encounters with wildlife in the form of vermin do not count! In my world view at least.) These two images are particularly evocative of my city kid experience.

I've never set eyes on the majestic Sue* herself, but visits to the dinosaurs at the Museum of Natural History play a starring role in my childhood memories. (See a previous newsletter about Joe Holmes' amnh #30 as a point of reference.)

Tiger Rub, Cabrini Green captures another familiar childhood vista, seemingly at the precise angle of my vantage point which was the back seat of my parents' Pinto. Growing up in Queens as I did was a city experience once removed. Subways have been a part of my existence for as long as I can remember, but so were cars. Frequent visits to my grandmother's house in Laurelton from our apartment in Queens meant drives along our county's less than scenic expressways, where road side attractions included vast apartment developments and the decaying structures from the 1964 World's Fair. One thing I learned on those drives: people will sell nearly anything by the side of the road, including (but by no means limited to) rugs of questionable taste and dubious quality.

That's it for this week, my friends and while an endless summer might seem appealing at the moment, perhaps the promise of more great art will provide you some comfort as you look forward to the start of September. We've got a really spectacular line up for next week, which makes me excited for Tuesday. That said, I plan on savoring every moment of the long weekend - you should too!

*Who is Sue, you ask? Well she's the largest, most complete, and best preserved Tyrannosaurus rex fossil yet discovered, that's who!

Good day to you, fine collector people! You'll get this announcement at its regularly scheduled time*, but I'm tapping away uncharacteristically early due to some anticipation-related insomnia. I'm trying to wrap things in the morning hours in the hopes of visiting The Met this afternoon, and the novelty of my field trip is the culprit for last night's fitful slumber. It reminds me of grade school days, when anxieties about who my buddy would be kept my young self tossing and turning on the eve of such outings. Fortunately for me, I have my buddy system presorted this time!

Speaking of school, and as my friend just said to me on IM, "I can't wait for September already!" These last days of August are not just Summer's swan song, they're also the last week of our first year in business, which I can hardly believe. In honor of the approaching anniversary, all three of our releases this week are double headers.** I am pretty smitten with today's pairing of The Mountain of Western Expansion and The Mountain of Tomorrow's Sunrise by painter William Crump.

I've adored William's work since he submitted slides to me shortly after the gallery opened in 2003. (Slides! That seems so... retro.) He is one of several painters who got away from me in those early days when my curatorial bravado was mostly limited to photography. As I was saying during a two hour phone conversation (!!) last night, I felt more confident in the realm of photography because, in spite of not knowing its history thoroughly, I had a certain fluency by way of merely existing in our image-saturated culture.

Painting seemed a vast, unknowable mystery to me and I was scared of making mistakes. I had not yet fully absorbed Frank O'Hara's "You just go on your nerve!" credo, which meant I didn't trust my instant captivation by work from artists like William, Tucker Nichols and Amy Bennett. God, it makes me sad just typing it!

I've since learned to fully embrace the mistake making and have the psychic bumps, bruises and endurance to prove it. Added bonus: I've learned stuff along the way (mistakes do that to you, if you're lucky.) Now I know why I respond to the work I like; occasionally I'm even capable of being articulate about it, although I cannot guarantee that today will be one of those occasions.

William's work keys in on many abiding fascinations of my own that regular newsletter readers will already be familiar with: the American frontier, heroism and childhood games of make-believe. All that thinky stuff aside, I'm really impressed by his combination of figurative and abstract elements, and his way with color. It's smart, funny and contemporary without being overly ironic or condescending. I feel taken in rather than left out, and also more connected with those thinky things I mentioned a few sentences ago.

I am back tomorrow with more photographic goodness from another recent Hot Shot. In the meanwhile, I wanted to share a few good links with you:

A Fall art show preview from New York magazine. I'm personally looking forward to Aitken at 303, Cindy Sherman @ Feature, Inc., Eggleston at the Whitney, a street photo show at the Bronx Museum, and three great shows at the Met: Calder, Giorgio Morandi and Rudy Burckhardt. I'm also immeasurably excited about the Chris Johanson show that's opening at Deitch next Thursday, where I'm planning on cornering Chris and asking him to please, pretty please with sugar on top, do an edition with us.

A book recommendation from a 20x200 collector, who wrote in yesterday and said:
What powerful images you have brought us today! I just wanted to recommend as a companion book, of sorts, The Dancing Girls of Lahore: Selling Love and Saving Dreams in Pakistan's Pleasure District by Louise Brown. I recently finished it, and it compliments Kate's vivid photo stories.

New from Steidl: Berenice Abbott, which consists of "two clothbound hardcover books each with a tipped-in photo housed together in a slipcase" and William Christenberry's Working from Memory.

Video: Curator Mark Beasley of Creative Time invites musicians to play the Battery Maritime Building, in conjunction with David Byrne's awesome Playing the Building which I caught on its very last day.

Hopefully this art fix will keep you sated till tomorrow's dispatch. Me? I'm insatiable when it comes to art, so off to the museum I go.

*Insofar as I succeed at the regular scheduling, where I admit to a spotty record.
**It is still August though, which means that the capable Noona, our wonderful shipping person, is on vacation. She'll be back at it on Sept 2nd, and will get you all caught up on your art then.

Glorious Wednesday greetings to all you fine collector people. August in New York has been unseasonably fantastic. It was verging on brisk yesterday evening, which made the after dinner ice cream that 20x200 superstar Kent Rogowski and I were enjoying seem almost impractical. (But really, is ice cream ever impractical? No.)

The daylight hours of this week have been warm but dry, perfectly clement conditions for poolside lounging. It's enough to make a girl wish that she had a lovely Chateau to repair to! Alas and alack, I think I used up all my poolside lounging hours back in July. (And in high style, I might add.) Today's edition from the talented and absolutely delightful-to-hang-around-with Gregory Krum takes me back to all that.

We've had Chateau in the queue for quite a while, and the capable Ms. Wendell's computer has been beaming its aquamarine goodness throughout the office since we selected it. As you can imagine, we churn through a lot of imagery during any given day, so the fact that its still there is a testament to its excellence. An image of a pool is sure to have surface appeal, but what has held our interest in this particular blue lagoon is Gregory's amazing, and often subtle, knack for composition in a square frame.

I still consider myself pretty new to photography, and so the question of defining the often ineffable qualities of what make a picture good are always at the forefront of my mind. (Perhaps it always will be? I hope it always is and that photography always feels new!) Never is this question more present than when we're reviewing entries for Hey, Hot Shot! which is how I came to make the acquaintance of Mr. Krum's work.

When we converge as a panel to review work, we look at the images on screen. An entrant has three images with which to distinguish themselves, and making a room full of image-saturated experts pause is quite a challenge. One might think that subtlety has no place in such an environment, but it was exactly the thing that made all us panelists pause when Gregory's work came on the screen. "What is it?", we asked, while looking at an undistinguished umbrella perched atop a cyclone fence from his series SHEK O. It's something, for sure, but I still can't tell you what exactly. Somehow though, there's a knack that he has for composing an image that brings me in immediately and subsequently taking to me all four corners of the frame. And it never gets old.

So, go ahead and dive in, why don't you? (If you haven't yet already, get to it. Everyone's sure to be into the pool by now.)

For those of you still reading, I'll be back earlier than usual next week. We've got a special bonus edition to announce on Monday, from one of our newest Hot Shots. Which reminds me: you've only got until this Saturday, August 23rd to have a look at their exhibition at the gallery. After that we're closed up for a little bit of Summer vacationing and won't return until September 12th, when Carrie Marill makes her NYC solo debut.

The Dandy Gorilla comes to us from Alex Beeching, a British artist who deftly wrangles a variety of media in service to his craft.

The animal kingdom has been making a strong showing on 20x200 during these summer months. The avian extravaganza related to the gallery's Ornithology exhibition, coupled with my abiding fascination with the animals, has resulted in a population explosion of creatures great and small in our archives. I have an eye towards mixing things up a bit in the near future, but upon seeing Alex's submission, I couldn't resist the proposition of having such a dandy gorilla in our midst.

With my pun quota fulfilled, I'm going to make my way back to the surreal world that awaits me. I'll return tomorrow with tales to tell and this week's refreshing photography edition to share.

Meanwhile, I encourage you to check out the 20x200 blog where Ms. Kara Canal has been posting all kinds of great stuff. You'll find interviews with artists and collectors, as well as updates on our artists' many different projects and exhibitions. It's good stuff!

Wednesday greetings, collectors. We're at the mid-point of what's been a great week so far @ JBP HQ. We're queuing up lots of great editions and adding a lot of amazingly talented people into the mix of our already stellar but over-burdened staff. I'm pleased as punch. (What will I talk about if I can't talk about how busy I am all the time? Be on the lookout for my favorite mai-tai recipes and tips for how to tan evenly.)

This week's photography edition, MOO COW, is a fitting match for the sunny disposition I am sporting today. It's a funny photo, made by a funny guy by the name of Andrew Hetherington, someone I've know for, like, ever.

Andrew bopped into my gallery in its earliest days, flush with enthusiasm and energy. He'd recently been selected for the prestigious PDN 30. Not only was he selected, but this here cow was the cover image of the issue announcing the winners. That's bound to put a spring in any photographer's step.

Andrew and I didn't end up working together then, but we did stay in touch and later reconnected more regularly via our respective blogs, What's the Jackanory? and Personism. (He's done a better job than I of sticking with it, lately at least. These newsletters are demanding, people!)

About a year ago, a dog-friendly cafe in the neighborhood became a regular morning destination for Ollie and me, and it turns out that it's a local haunt for Mr. Hetherington as well. This primarily means that he sees me looking like a hot mess most days, in aged spectacles and dog-covered loungewear. A hidden benefit of this is that he always comments extensively about how great I look whenever we run into each other out and about at photo-related openings and events. The more significant benefit of our haphazard coffee klatsching is a steady stream of photo gossip for both of us, and even a bit of valuable advice once in a while.

As Andrew will tell you his own self, he was quite skeptical of this whole 20x200 thing when I was getting it rolling. He dodged my entreaties to do an edition with us for a while (ever so politely, of course) but you shouldn't be surprised to hear that I'm not one to take no for an answer. I'm quite pleased that we've won him over, but I doubt it was solely on the basis of my powers of persuasion.

He was a bit hesitant to do this particular image, not wanting to reinforce his reputation as the cow guy, but I did employ my powers in earnest to get a yes out of him to do it. In part it's for sentimental reasons, since it's an image I've loved for so long. And also because it's funny and charming and it makes me smile, just like Andrew does. I didn't want pass up an opportunity for it to make 222 other people smile for many years to come.

Most importantly, the fact is that I don't think of Andrew as the cow guy. I think of him as, you know, the funny and charming guy. This particular photo is a good example of the humor, irreverence and engaging nature of all his work. And his charm is evident over morning coffee, or out at openings, or via his blog. He's someone who contributes a lot to making the NYC photo community feel more like a community, so it's pretty great to welcome him into the 20x200 community as well.

And with that bit of sappy sentimentalism, I'll take my leave for now. I'm back next week, when there are likely to be some special additions to our regularly scheduled programming.

Picture perfect Tuesday greetings collectors. I am looking out the windows of JBP HQ at a blue sky populated with puffy clouds of the non-threatening variety, which is quite a change of pace from yesterday's stormy light show. I've lived most of my adult life in a ground floor apartment so the span of bright windows we have here is a real treat. It could be that not having to step outside to know which way the wind blows is what compels me to kick off most newsletters with a weather report. (In case you were wondering why I don't just cut to the chase.)

I am going to dispense with the most obvious of puns immediately (you know I can't resist a good pun) and say that today's edition, Secret Language 1, really speaks to me. (Groan. I know, I know.) Southwestern native Valerie Roybal's oeuvre touches upon many subjects and styles I find irresistible, so I was really pleased when she submitted work to 20x200.

Valerie's choice of materials for the Secret Language series speaks to my bookish tendencies, my penchant for wandering through thrift stores and flea markets, and my predilection for proper penmanship. (Alliteration alert!) Aside from the obvious visual allure of her layered constructions, their texture and presence ignites other senses and memories that I fondly associate with all these activities. The snippets of fine calligraphy remind me of lazy comfort of curling up with a well-worn copy of Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice. Her color palette wanders across the entire range of shades I find so appealing in the vintage items that always catch my eye, whether they're water-stained snapshots or fire-red Pyrex bowls, happily transporting me to the cluttered chaos of an upstate Salvation Army, with creaky floorboards, dusty air and undiscovered treasures.

Such nice memories to spend time with! Not to sound like a cheeseball, but that's one of the things I most enjoy about living with art. Everything that I have on my walls is the seed for some sort of story or memory, giving me ample opportunity to indulge in some escapism. My here and now is pretty great, but it's nice to be able to go elsewhere once in a while.

Speaking of elsewhere, I'm about to dash off to lunch with another bookish artist who has a 20x200 edition in the pipeline. Make of that bit of foreshadowing what you will, and check back in tomorrow for this week's photo edition.

Upside-down Wednesday greetings, my fine collector friends. Things have been a little, um, interesting at the JBP HQ this week. We're up for the challenge(s) however, so I expect that we'll all be calm, cool and collected when attending the opening for Hey, Hot Shot! (Vol VII, Edition I) this Friday evening. We've got five talented photographers making their JB debut so if you're summering in the city, do drop in!

In honor of our upcoming Hot Shots exhibition, it seems fitting that we introduce something from a member of the HHS! family. This stunner, Laugaras, Iceland, is from Bob O'Connor, a Boston-based Hot Shot who first exhibited with us in the Winter Edition of 2006.

This is the very image that our panel fell in love with. It's peaceful and epic at the same time. The color palette of the sky, the grass and the windblown horse is subtle and soft, and their beauty is enhanced by the richness of the muddy earth in the foreground.

It's one of those pictures that makes me want to tell a million stories, like one where I get to be a bold heroine with a trusty steed who waits patiently as I do some good deed. Saving penguins? Rescuing polar bear cubs? I don't even know if there are penguins or polar bears in Iceland, but suspend disbelief, won't you? Me riding a horse bareback in the middle of nowhere is a wild yarn in and of itself, trust me.

Where were we? Oh yes, a heroine and her trusty steed! Good deed done, we ride off into the misty horizon, both our manes flowing behind us. The End.

My current horizon is cluttered with installations and appointments, so I'm going to trot along now myself, for reals. I'll be back soon with more art; as I type the capable Ms. Sarah Wendell is queuing up editions with our fresh set of Hot Shots and there's lots of other great stuff cooking too. As always! And 'til soon.

Tuesday greetings, collectors. The dog days of August are officially here, and I'm back in NYC with no travel plans in the foreseeable future. Ironic, in consideration of my normal schedule and just a bit cruel too. I'm hoping for an invitation to somewhere beachy-keen, although cool and shady would do just as nicely. (Yes, that's a hint.) I did come back to an airy and organized office, thanks to hard work of the JBP crew, so while life is not currently a beach, it is productivity-friendly and art-filled. Speaking of which, let me fill you in on today's excellent art offering.

Torn comes to us from NYC-based artist Jonathan Allen. It's the first of a series of intricate collages from the evocatively titled Night Stand Apocalypse, which he started in 2005.

As with many of our editions, the bit-based realm does this image no justice. You can get a sense of its richness from the detail, but the actual print is a true stunner. Mixing media and subject manner with such assuredness is a bit of a high-wire act, but Jonathan's had plenty of practice. He's got an impressive array of exhibitions and honors under his belt already, and thanks to the LMCC (an amazing organization, if you're not already familiar with it) he has a studio to work from. (Something that's unfortunately rare for many NY-based artists.)

Jonathan's distinctive style has all kinds of intersections with past and future 20x200 artists. Faux bois has popped up in lots of our editions, and his saturated geometric planes are reminiscent of Paradigm Shift, an early edition from painter Jessica Snow. Those hues and lines are also somewhat unexpectedly akin to new work from 20x200 favorite Carrie Marill, recently completed for her solo show that's opening at the gallery next month. (The suspense might be killing you, but you'll just have to wait!) And don't you see a connection with Curtis Mann's Treetops in Jonathan's choice of subject and media? I sure do. Most randomly, his crowd of shutterbugs reminds me of Michael David Murphy's own photo-journalism and the insightful criticism that you'll find on his blog 2point8. And there are personal connections as well. Jonathan was encouraged to submit to 20x200 by fellow LMCC resident Amy Park and is (perhaps unbeknownst to him) connected to Dorthe Alstrup via their participation in the Bronx Museum's prestigious Artist in the Marketplace program.

Who's Dorthe you say? As Google will tell you in its top results, she's a former Hot Shot. She's also got a great print coming up with us here in a few weeks. Another surprise to look forward to!

And now I'm moving forward myself. This year's first round of Hey, Hot Shot! winners make their debut at the JB on Friday and there are preparations to attend to. See you tomorrow with this week's photography edition.

Greetings from the East, my collector friends. I am woozy from jet-lag and slowly reentering the New York atmosphere. Last night's travel was relatively uneventful, but we waited forever to get to the gate. A neighboring runway was the site of some kind of landing gear mishap, and the fire trucks, emergency vehicles and overall chaos were downright scary. I am back in the big city and hoping to leave the whole flying thing to the birds for now.

As the Ornithology show winds down over at the gallery, so does our month of bird madness here on 20x200. White-Crowned Sparrow and White Eyed Vireo are the stragglers of the flock, which is understandable considering how wrapped up they've been. These two striking photos are from Hot Shot Todd Forsgren's Bird Banding Project.

One important note about these birds: they are not dead, or dying or even injured. They've been caught in mist nets by ornithologists, and once they're banded they're released back into the world. On first viewing the photos seemed quite brutal to me, but once I had the comfort of knowing that they were indeed alive and well, I was able to focus in how effectively Todd's been able to capture the strange beauty of these creatures.

Viewing them as specimens against the graphic pattern of the nets underscores their fragility, seeing the legs and wings stopped mid-motion exposes their connection to ancient ancestors like the Pterodactyl.

And with this fine duo, we bring our Ornithology program to a close. There are sure to be more bird editions in the future, but with the show winding down and the month coming to an end, it's time to turn our arty attention to other things.

I'll be back next week with new editions! See you then.

Greetings collectors. I have lots to say, as always, but no time to say it. I am leaving San Francisco today, heart and all, and heading back to the steamy apple. I'll be more verbose once I get myself to the other coast.

Till then enjoy