Julian Sands went missing over two months ago while climbing Mount Baldy in stormy conditions. Every time I look to the east, to the snow capped San Gabriel mountains, I think Julian is up there. Somewhere. I knew him like millions around the world did, through his work, but I also knew Julian from work. We did two gigs together– Wim Wenders “The Million Dollar Hotel” and “Gotham.” Meeting Julian was like meeting a rock star. After “A Room With a View” and “The Killing Fields,” he was a bonafide superstar. Beautiful, intelligent, passionate, a little dangerous, he had so many qualities rolled into one it was almost unfair. But I was to discover Julian’s greatest quality was his kindness and gentle nature. On all-night shoots, Julian was the guy I paired off with for midnight lunch breaks. We instantly fell in step and talked life, family. He was funny. He was incredibly humble. He was proof (to steal a phrase from Tim Minear) that “God does indeed give with both hands.” I stepped outside today and felt the warmth of spring approaching and thought, “Soon, Julian will be found and be with his family.”
It’s been a bit of a whirl. Left New York last night, grabbed my car in LA, and headed east towards NM. In a bit of a time crunch, but had to heed my decades-long unwritten rule that when I’m close to a natural wonder or historic site, I have a moral and spiritual obligation to detour and see/experience it. The first time I saw the Grand Canyon, I remember my mind struggled initially to adjust to its enormity, as if I had pulled up to a beach, glanced up, and saw a three-hundred foot wave. It smashes all comparison. Created by ancient tectonic shifts and inexorable power of water trying to find its level, I always feel fortunate when I get to see it again.
Driving in Albuquerque, I saw this car wash and knew immediately it was the same one used in “Breaking Bad.” It made me reflect on what a gargantuan creative achievement the series was. Congrats of course to Vince Gilligan, @bryancranston, @aaronpaul, et al, but it was pitch perfect across the board – every actor, background artist, writer, & crew member, hit solid homers. I just regret I can’t see the whole thing again for the first time.
Happy St. Patricks’s Day. Here I am outside my mother’s farm in Derryleigh outside of the village of Sneem in County Kerry. My father is from the northern part of the County. He was born in Fenit, a small fishing village, just a literal stone’s throw from the birthplace of St. Brendan the Navigator. Ireland is a huge part of my life. Though we moved to America when I was just three and a half (the fourth country I’d lived in up to that point), I am undoubtedly American and love this country, but Ireland is, was, and will always be the Logue and O’Sullivan mothership. To all my aunties, uncles, cousins and friends in Eire- a huge happy St. Paddy’s day to you and especially to @desoconnor and @karinisabella – the man who took a lot of these photos, my brother, honorary Kerryman, and someone I will brave the freezing waters of the Irish Sea off Sandycove in Dublin with anytime.
Happy St. Patricks’s Day. Here I am outside my mother’s farm in Derryleigh outside of the village of Sneem in County Kerry. My father is from the northern part of the County. He was born in Fenit, a small fishing village, just a literal stone’s throw from the birthplace of St. Brendan the Navigator. Ireland is a huge part of my life. Though we moved to America when I was just three and a half (the fourth country I’d lived in up to that point), I am undoubtedly American and love this country, but Ireland is, was, and will always be the Logue and O’Sullivan mothership. To all my aunties, uncles, cousins and friends in Eire- a huge happy St. Paddy’s day to you and especially to @desoconnor and @karinisabella – the man who took a lot of these photos, my brother, honorary Kerryman, and someone I will brave the freezing waters of the Irish Sea off Sandycove in Dublin with anytime.
Happy St. Patricks’s Day. Here I am outside my mother’s farm in Derryleigh outside of the village of Sneem in County Kerry. My father is from the northern part of the County. He was born in Fenit, a small fishing village, just a literal stone’s throw from the birthplace of St. Brendan the Navigator. Ireland is a huge part of my life. Though we moved to America when I was just three and a half (the fourth country I’d lived in up to that point), I am undoubtedly American and love this country, but Ireland is, was, and will always be the Logue and O’Sullivan mothership. To all my aunties, uncles, cousins and friends in Eire- a huge happy St. Paddy’s day to you and especially to @desoconnor and @karinisabella – the man who took a lot of these photos, my brother, honorary Kerryman, and someone I will brave the freezing waters of the Irish Sea off Sandycove in Dublin with anytime.
Happy St. Patricks’s Day. Here I am outside my mother’s farm in Derryleigh outside of the village of Sneem in County Kerry. My father is from the northern part of the County. He was born in Fenit, a small fishing village, just a literal stone’s throw from the birthplace of St. Brendan the Navigator. Ireland is a huge part of my life. Though we moved to America when I was just three and a half (the fourth country I’d lived in up to that point), I am undoubtedly American and love this country, but Ireland is, was, and will always be the Logue and O’Sullivan mothership. To all my aunties, uncles, cousins and friends in Eire- a huge happy St. Paddy’s day to you and especially to @desoconnor and @karinisabella – the man who took a lot of these photos, my brother, honorary Kerryman, and someone I will brave the freezing waters of the Irish Sea off Sandycove in Dublin with anytime.
Happy St. Patricks’s Day. Here I am outside my mother’s farm in Derryleigh outside of the village of Sneem in County Kerry. My father is from the northern part of the County. He was born in Fenit, a small fishing village, just a literal stone’s throw from the birthplace of St. Brendan the Navigator. Ireland is a huge part of my life. Though we moved to America when I was just three and a half (the fourth country I’d lived in up to that point), I am undoubtedly American and love this country, but Ireland is, was, and will always be the Logue and O’Sullivan mothership. To all my aunties, uncles, cousins and friends in Eire- a huge happy St. Paddy’s day to you and especially to @desoconnor and @karinisabella – the man who took a lot of these photos, my brother, honorary Kerryman, and someone I will brave the freezing waters of the Irish Sea off Sandycove in Dublin with anytime.
Happy St. Patricks’s Day. Here I am outside my mother’s farm in Derryleigh outside of the village of Sneem in County Kerry. My father is from the northern part of the County. He was born in Fenit, a small fishing village, just a literal stone’s throw from the birthplace of St. Brendan the Navigator. Ireland is a huge part of my life. Though we moved to America when I was just three and a half (the fourth country I’d lived in up to that point), I am undoubtedly American and love this country, but Ireland is, was, and will always be the Logue and O’Sullivan mothership. To all my aunties, uncles, cousins and friends in Eire- a huge happy St. Paddy’s day to you and especially to @desoconnor and @karinisabella – the man who took a lot of these photos, my brother, honorary Kerryman, and someone I will brave the freezing waters of the Irish Sea off Sandycove in Dublin with anytime.
Happy St. Patricks’s Day. Here I am outside my mother’s farm in Derryleigh outside of the village of Sneem in County Kerry. My father is from the northern part of the County. He was born in Fenit, a small fishing village, just a literal stone’s throw from the birthplace of St. Brendan the Navigator. Ireland is a huge part of my life. Though we moved to America when I was just three and a half (the fourth country I’d lived in up to that point), I am undoubtedly American and love this country, but Ireland is, was, and will always be the Logue and O’Sullivan mothership. To all my aunties, uncles, cousins and friends in Eire- a huge happy St. Paddy’s day to you and especially to @desoconnor and @karinisabella – the man who took a lot of these photos, my brother, honorary Kerryman, and someone I will brave the freezing waters of the Irish Sea off Sandycove in Dublin with anytime.
Back home in the desert. It’s been quite the whirlwind of a week, but there’s no place like home. I have to give a shout-out to everyone at Naval Air Facility El Centro for their amazing hospitality. I met so many wonderful people and many of the women who pioneered aviation in the Navy. It was the 50th anniversary of women flying in the Navy, capped off by Amy Lee as the first woman to pilot for the @usnavyblueangels. Also, thank you @lp_aventure for outfitting my @subaru_usa Outback with a lift kit and wheels so I could do some off-roading at the world famous Glamis Dunes.
Back home in the desert. It’s been quite the whirlwind of a week, but there’s no place like home. I have to give a shout-out to everyone at Naval Air Facility El Centro for their amazing hospitality. I met so many wonderful people and many of the women who pioneered aviation in the Navy. It was the 50th anniversary of women flying in the Navy, capped off by Amy Lee as the first woman to pilot for the @usnavyblueangels. Also, thank you @lp_aventure for outfitting my @subaru_usa Outback with a lift kit and wheels so I could do some off-roading at the world famous Glamis Dunes.
From old to new. Redwood planks. Some of the trees these boards were initially milled from were almost 2000 years old. Part of an old aqueduct, Kevin salvaged them and after some cutting and planing, we brought them back to life. There is almost no such thing as wood that can’t be brought back. Thanks to Ian, Kyle, & Johnny. @frisonloguehardwoods @ianfrison @frisontreeservice
24 years ago, this legend came into my life and has been making me laugh ever since. Happy birthday, Finn. You are a force of nature! w/ @wtmniketech
Today’s office on @theequalizercbs. TV world is vastly different from life on the mountain in Oregon! Don’t be fooled by the illusion- full on make believe is the order of the day. This G45 was earthbound (we were just working on the tarmac), but I spoke to the pilots who said they’d been to Qatar, Abu Dhabi, Nairobi, Mauritius, and India in the past two weeks. Unreal. They turned down my offer to be a stowaway on their next globe hopper. But one of the pilots was a huge big rig aficionado, so I told him if he ever wanted to give a Peterbilt a whirl, he should hit us up at Aisling Trucking next time he was in the Medford, Oregon area.@eliburnsteens
Writing a new book and milling away at the ranch. Kevin salvaged these redwood pieces from an abandoned canal in Oregon. Some of them came from two thousand year old trees. After they are dry-kilned and planed we’ll post after pics at @frisonloguehardwoods.
Writing a new book and milling away at the ranch. Kevin salvaged these redwood pieces from an abandoned canal in Oregon. Some of them came from two thousand year old trees. After they are dry-kilned and planed we’ll post after pics at @frisonloguehardwoods.
Sunday grill day. With Finn, Arlo, Gabe, & Manny. SFV
I love the @metmuseum. It’s humanizing to stand among ancient artifacts and sculptures and imagine what life was like in the Golden Age of Athens, or Rome, or Byzantium, or Mesopotamia, or Egypt. And not in some overly precious/high-falutin sense, but in a “what would it have been like here on a Tuesday afternoon?” kind of way. I love the new Chroma exhibit where they use infrared spectrometry to discover what the original color of the pieces were to recreate them. I’m so used to seeing antiquities with the wear and tear of the ages, my mind falls asleep to the concept that what is now old was once new. And used. Like helmets worn in battle, by some Spartan, Athenian, Roman, or Carthaginian who lost their head after possibly watching their friends die in battle. Or maybe they lived and kept their helmet hidden behind a terra cotta water jug in some corner of a house with a fresco floor as a memento of some PTSD-inducing event on a hot and dusty plain that they don’t want to stare at but can’t bear to throw away. They lived with beautiful objects that had utility. Art was essential to their lives and all around them. Life was brutish, nasty, short, but full of beauty. They burned brightly. Their quest for knowledge and understanding is astounding. How the Greeks of the Fifth Century B.C.E. knew the earth’s circumference (with stunning precision) armed only with the knowledge a sphere has 360 degrees and the angle of shadows cast by sticks positioned up and down the Nile, and that a tiny particle they called an atom made up the sand, the sea, trees, us, everything in the visible universe, blows my mind. I made friends on this jaunt, discussed the Chicago 7 as photographed by Avedon, met a new friend who is writing a book on Cambridge, Mass in the 1960s, and had two docents show me their favorite pieces (no Caravaggio, though, that wing was under reconstruction). I took in the European collection, but was chomping at the bit to get to the the Medieval art- a personal fave.
I love the @metmuseum. It’s humanizing to stand among ancient artifacts and sculptures and imagine what life was like in the Golden Age of Athens, or Rome, or Byzantium, or Mesopotamia, or Egypt. And not in some overly precious/high-falutin sense, but in a “what would it have been like here on a Tuesday afternoon?” kind of way. I love the new Chroma exhibit where they use infrared spectrometry to discover what the original color of the pieces were to recreate them. I’m so used to seeing antiquities with the wear and tear of the ages, my mind falls asleep to the concept that what is now old was once new. And used. Like helmets worn in battle, by some Spartan, Athenian, Roman, or Carthaginian who lost their head after possibly watching their friends die in battle. Or maybe they lived and kept their helmet hidden behind a terra cotta water jug in some corner of a house with a fresco floor as a memento of some PTSD-inducing event on a hot and dusty plain that they don’t want to stare at but can’t bear to throw away. They lived with beautiful objects that had utility. Art was essential to their lives and all around them. Life was brutish, nasty, short, but full of beauty. They burned brightly. Their quest for knowledge and understanding is astounding. How the Greeks of the Fifth Century B.C.E. knew the earth’s circumference (with stunning precision) armed only with the knowledge a sphere has 360 degrees and the angle of shadows cast by sticks positioned up and down the Nile, and that a tiny particle they called an atom made up the sand, the sea, trees, us, everything in the visible universe, blows my mind. I made friends on this jaunt, discussed the Chicago 7 as photographed by Avedon, met a new friend who is writing a book on Cambridge, Mass in the 1960s, and had two docents show me their favorite pieces (no Caravaggio, though, that wing was under reconstruction). I took in the European collection, but was chomping at the bit to get to the the Medieval art- a personal fave.
I love the @metmuseum. It’s humanizing to stand among ancient artifacts and sculptures and imagine what life was like in the Golden Age of Athens, or Rome, or Byzantium, or Mesopotamia, or Egypt. And not in some overly precious/high-falutin sense, but in a “what would it have been like here on a Tuesday afternoon?” kind of way. I love the new Chroma exhibit where they use infrared spectrometry to discover what the original color of the pieces were to recreate them. I’m so used to seeing antiquities with the wear and tear of the ages, my mind falls asleep to the concept that what is now old was once new. And used. Like helmets worn in battle, by some Spartan, Athenian, Roman, or Carthaginian who lost their head after possibly watching their friends die in battle. Or maybe they lived and kept their helmet hidden behind a terra cotta water jug in some corner of a house with a fresco floor as a memento of some PTSD-inducing event on a hot and dusty plain that they don’t want to stare at but can’t bear to throw away. They lived with beautiful objects that had utility. Art was essential to their lives and all around them. Life was brutish, nasty, short, but full of beauty. They burned brightly. Their quest for knowledge and understanding is astounding. How the Greeks of the Fifth Century B.C.E. knew the earth’s circumference (with stunning precision) armed only with the knowledge a sphere has 360 degrees and the angle of shadows cast by sticks positioned up and down the Nile, and that a tiny particle they called an atom made up the sand, the sea, trees, us, everything in the visible universe, blows my mind. I made friends on this jaunt, discussed the Chicago 7 as photographed by Avedon, met a new friend who is writing a book on Cambridge, Mass in the 1960s, and had two docents show me their favorite pieces (no Caravaggio, though, that wing was under reconstruction). I took in the European collection, but was chomping at the bit to get to the the Medieval art- a personal fave.
I love the @metmuseum. It’s humanizing to stand among ancient artifacts and sculptures and imagine what life was like in the Golden Age of Athens, or Rome, or Byzantium, or Mesopotamia, or Egypt. And not in some overly precious/high-falutin sense, but in a “what would it have been like here on a Tuesday afternoon?” kind of way. I love the new Chroma exhibit where they use infrared spectrometry to discover what the original color of the pieces were to recreate them. I’m so used to seeing antiquities with the wear and tear of the ages, my mind falls asleep to the concept that what is now old was once new. And used. Like helmets worn in battle, by some Spartan, Athenian, Roman, or Carthaginian who lost their head after possibly watching their friends die in battle. Or maybe they lived and kept their helmet hidden behind a terra cotta water jug in some corner of a house with a fresco floor as a memento of some PTSD-inducing event on a hot and dusty plain that they don’t want to stare at but can’t bear to throw away. They lived with beautiful objects that had utility. Art was essential to their lives and all around them. Life was brutish, nasty, short, but full of beauty. They burned brightly. Their quest for knowledge and understanding is astounding. How the Greeks of the Fifth Century B.C.E. knew the earth’s circumference (with stunning precision) armed only with the knowledge a sphere has 360 degrees and the angle of shadows cast by sticks positioned up and down the Nile, and that a tiny particle they called an atom made up the sand, the sea, trees, us, everything in the visible universe, blows my mind. I made friends on this jaunt, discussed the Chicago 7 as photographed by Avedon, met a new friend who is writing a book on Cambridge, Mass in the 1960s, and had two docents show me their favorite pieces (no Caravaggio, though, that wing was under reconstruction). I took in the European collection, but was chomping at the bit to get to the the Medieval art- a personal fave.
A still from the new @rteone show “SisterS” created by and starring Sarah Golberg and Susan Stanley. @talldaddy90210 will most likely recognize this @gibsonguitar that made the journey with me to Ireland. “SisterS” is currently airing and streaming in Ireland and will be coming to the US and Canada in May.
