Today, the arrival of two huge boxes of Soft Spot t-shirts, to the excitement of some but much to my dismay, marks the subsequent and impending departure of my two best friends on their tour of the eastern US.
Who will I drink coffee with in the mornings from our giant French press? The question remains unanswered, the only absolute being it will certainly not be my roommates Sarah and Bryan, who will embark in February on their very first national tour.
Below is the t shirt Bryan designed, crafted from one of his drawings and screen printed on the softest cotton shirts. (BK don’t kill me for posting this! Also- this picture was totally his idea!)
Want one? Go to one of their shows! For tour dates visit www.myspace.com/withlovesoftspot.
Soft Spot- New Bio!! (written by me!)
When given the prompt to illustrate his aspired career with crayons and crepe paper, a kindergarten aged Bryan Keller may just as well have devoted his efforts to drawing the blonde haired beauty three seats away, who was diligently scribing herself as a singer. Surrounded by dreams of firefighters and racecar drivers, homemakers and movie stars, Sarah and Bryan’s destiny was far too articulate to be resolved with gradeschool mediums of craft. Had Bryan been told that in just sixteen years, the little blonde haired Sarah Kinlaw would become his soul mate and band mate, touring the country and performing the incarnate of their combined talents and mutual affection, would he have believed his incredible fortune, and more importantly, could he draw that with crayons?
Although romantically the two progressed from puppy love to teen love to their present adoration of true love, musically their collaborations had a much later arrival. Bryan spent his adolescence grooming his skills as a guitar player, bassist and drummer, while separately, Sarah studied classical opera and lyric soprano from behind tightly sealed and sound proof doors. Though Sarah consistently occupied the front row of the audience at any of Bryan’s shows, she maintained her status as a spectator who, regardless of her aspirations and musings, was never a participant and always a voyeur. It was not until the formative year of 2009 that Sarah was able to develop the courage to share her music with others. She emerged to the public with heartfelt and handwritten songs, easily recognized through their use of the ukulele but often incorporating other elements such as the accordion, keys, melodica, and perhaps the greatest addition of all, her long time best friend and boyfriend Bryan Keller.
Soft Spot was born as the lovechild of two passionate artists, emerging to the public with an insatiable desire for omnipresence. From local venues to radio waves, and now in preparation for an upcoming national tour in late February, Soft Spot is the song you cannot get out of your head, the subtle scent that lingers on your pillow, and the girl in the classroom three seats ahead who, try as it may, can never be rivaled for attention with arithmetic.
Prior to their approaching February tour dates, Bryan and Sarah will release their debut EP, complemented in conjunction with the premier of their very first music video for the song Half a House. Their route will cover the entire Eastern United States, with notable stops such as their hometown of Wilmington, North Carolina and even pausing to spend a night in a commune of tree houses in southern Georgia. They will be accompanied by their live percussionist and dear friend Jarrod Drobot for this eastern tour, (which although already scheduled, is still open to inquiries for additional stops).
Soft Spot is music to dance to and music to sit to, music to wake to and music to make love to. For as childhood ambitions once scribbled in crayon and existing only in daydreams, this product of two passionate hearts can only have the sweetest of fruits.
First:
Go to Soft Spot on Myspace and listen to the song Half a House!
The two faces above, though one smiles at the camera while the other cheats a slumber, are the very same faces that once stood side by side and mused of adulthood in a bathroom mirror. I applied her lipstick and braided her hair and she sang along to Jewel’s Pieces of Me with a sound far surpassing an adolescent’s mimicry.
We were twelve. We made grandiose wishes and aspirations for our future and whispered them in each others ears with the scarcity of a birthday wish that would vanish if uttered aloud. We believed we could do anything. We counted the days to the moments to the seconds until we would be all grown up and could fast forward to the truly magical parts of our lives.
Sarah the singer and Molly the artist. Eleven years later and we are still side by side, though this time the rouge I apply wasn’t stolen from my mother. This time we are in Montauk, in the wardrobe room of her first music video, and later, while dressing the set, I cannot help but absorb the whimsy of the scene. Stacking mattresses one by one, I build a bed for Sarah to rest upon like the Princess and the Pea and realize that our once distant fairy tale will surely exceed the duration of the shot.
Please grant me the patience to wait for the first edit of this video. I will be sure to post it immediately! Until then, this is the most I can do without spoiling all of the amazing surprises! We have waited our whole lives for this. I think you can make it a few more weeks!
Above, wearing a headpiece made especially for this shoot by the lovely and talented Savannah Wyatt and resting on layer after layer of vintage quilts supplied by Amanda of Really Roseberry Vintage! (as well as the majority of antique props used to dress the set!)
Sarah with her paternal grandmother’s vintage tea set, wearing clothing from Malin Landaeus Vintage Archive.
We decided that you cannot go to Montauk without fulfilling the quintessential romantic-escapade-on-a-bed-of-ice experience. I’ve also added to the list: venturing to the beach at night and brainstorming shots while gazing at the stars.
Below, the amazingly talented and wonderful director and my very dear friend Ryan Dickie, shown on set with a misses Sarah and a mister Bryan. So much love for these three. So much excitement for this project.
And so, so much to unpack.
xoxo
Nova Landaeus returns integrity to the lost art of modeling, discreetly slipping it back into place as if it were never absent to begin with.
She filled this eighth floor loft in Astoria with a presence that rivaled the afternoon sun, lighting up the room and creating an ambience so luminous, it would be shameful not to document its beauty.
I found myself infected by her energy, as well as that of the others on set, correlating her ability to inspire her surroundings with the sequins on the very tip of her hat. Teaming with light and shadows, these embellishments make reflections which dance around the room and touch all with a spell of magic and whimsy.
With the grace and careful movements undeniably and inimitably accredited to a lifelong study of classical ballet, Nova gives dresses, once lifeless on metal hangers, the absolute dance of a lifetime.
She contorts herself with a seemingly innate agility, holding poses so statuesque that it is actually startling when she becomes animate again. Her repertoire of movements is commendable, and the fact that she smiles showing all of her teeth is as refreshing and lighthearted as it is foreign on an editorial set.
I am not surprised to find she is an aspiring actress, and can speak on behalf of her acting school that her educational endeavors are clearly well spent.
(for more about Nova please proceed with the following link: Nova Landaues)
Today, Nova modeled a collection of Michael Calloway, a local designer partial to hand sewn and one of a kind creations. Comprised of both new and vintage garments, his designs are sold exclusively in Nova’s mother’s Williamsburg boutique Malin Landaeus Vintage, where he holds the noteworthy title as their only contemporary designer.
Her red lips and platinum pin curls were provided by the talents of the wonderful Johnny Ducoin, and together with an extremely talented photographer and my best efforts styling, I feel we were able to reach an outcome nothing short of spectacular.
Thank you to all for this wonderful shoot. I cannot wait to update with more pictures!
Did you see these shoes??? Would you like a closer look?
http://blogs.laweekly.com/westcoastsound/nick-cave-at-the-folwer/
The following link will take you to the portfolio I submitted,
http://www.artistswanted.org/mollygottschalk
and if you vote for my pictures will help my chances!
I am heading out the door to drive to a photo shoot in Astoria. I will update tomorrow with pictures!
Lots of really exciting projects on the horizon. Sorry for the slow updates lately but I assure you this is only the calm before the storm.
xx
On New Years day, I awoke in my bed in my baby blue Rodarte dress, carefully chosen to ring in the new year and now longing for its previous and more stable home on a lonely wooden hanger. After noticing the absence of one five hundred dollar shoe, I felt immediate panic followed by a tickled association between myself and Cinderella. This self appreciation, however, I dismissed rather quickly upon my first glimpse in my mirror. My Grace Kelly curls now resembled more of an Ethel Mertz coif, and I realized, like Cinderella, after the stroke of midnight New Years Eve presents nothing more than a slow and steady demise.
Rest assured, I am not referring to excessive drinking. Sure, I honored the festivities and and befriended a crystal flute of bubbles. I looked into the eyes of all my dearest and toasted the new year with genuine optimism. The debauchery, however, I left to the usual suspects, and returned home somewhat soberly and undeniably somberly with the sun at my back and threatening to rise.
I lay wide awake in my bed overwhelmed by the gravity of the once approaching, now fully present, daunting New Year.
Why such a dismal outlook to the turn of the New Year? On the first, I come face to face with my greatest foe. Immediately following the highlight of my calendar, January is an unwelcomed and aggressively punctual occurrence to succeed a month of merry entertainment and pleasant reinforcement of relationships.
A green and fragrant Evergreen challenges its namesake and finds a home on a curb; brown and brittle, it impatiently awaits a dump truck kept company by puddles which, erect, once answered to ”Frosty”. All that is left of these snowmen now are pools of sleet, housing irrelevant and soiled items such as a scarf, buttons, corn cobs, and of course, a single carrot which in its prime was a nose, but today is a reminder of the fleeting nature of holiday content.
We are given one day to accommodate this transition. We are given one night to mourn the loss of the year and welcome the next. Nostalgia for what is left behind rivals excitement for all that lies ahead, and the focus falls on an assessment of what we have, what we don’t, and what we desperately need to obtain beginning on January first.
On New Years Eve I crumble at the mercy of the persistent hands of a clock. Any effort to prolong the stroke of midnight are made in vain, as the seconds arrive in unwavering and mathematical succession and the impending doom of the a new calendar year looms in a daunting queue in the rafters.
This year, I resolve to embrace my enemy. I will transform my dislike to an affection so strong that I must stay up all night on the thirty first, desperate to absorb every last moment of the once hated, though clearly only misunderstood, month of January.
I now have moss green German leather gloves with gold grommets that warm my hands sometimes even after I have gone indoors. Similarly, I have learned that hats are not just a novelty and instead a necessity! If worn on a cold day, believe it or not, they do much more than accessorize the last ten percent of a once incomplete outfit. My cozy queen size bed is adorned with an electric blanket, consistently warmed to level nine, and just at the foot rests hand sewn mohair bunny slippers compliments of my mother. My cabinets are stocked with chai and chamomile tea and hot cocoa, my drawers with heavy wool socks, and my calendar filled with cozy dinner parties where I will sip hot cider with friends and watch the snow fall through hand-smeared windows in a foggy pane of glass.
It is this outlook that will transform this month for me. For New Years I resolve to have the best January I possibly can. Therefore, on the first day of the year, I ignored my lethargy and leaped from my bed to cook black eyed peas and collard greens and treat my best friends to a special dinner and good luck for the entire year. It is this same luck that I wish for myself as I anticipate the forthcoming where, using this day as an example, I take whatever I am given and even if it is not immediately desirable, transform any hand into the perfect play.
I believe in a reciprocated exchange of energy, and I believe that ultimately you are given what you put out into the world. Take note, 2010: this year, I am expecting some really magical gifts.
