During Market Week in New York, Cause and Effect’s Billy Moore caused something of a scene while shooting photos for his look book.
Imagine the loud clang of Billy’s ball peen against the manhole cover.
He’s used to hammering horsehide against the large boulders of the Little Pigeon River, but I can imagine wailing away at some copper plating on the cobblestone streets of New York is not a far off sensation.
Look book photographer, Joe Gannon, crouches to get the shot just so, as Mr. Moore goes to town on some metal.
To read more about Billy Moore and his magnificent leather and metal accessories, see my previous post. To learn how you can get your hands on Cause and Effect’s full line, contact Billy directly: billy(dot)causeandeffect(at)gmail(dot)com.
Special thanks to Rob Babigian, Fran Ferger, and Joe Gannon for the behind-the-scenes footage of Mr. Moore in action.
“You bought the polka dot tie at Dose!” The MidWasteLand’s Monica Dimperio exclaimed while we waited for some Joe at Caffe Streets.
“Yes! Oh my God. What a memory!”
“You gonna be there this Sunday?”
“Of course.”
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I resisted. I waited. I tried so hard to hold myself to Hipstamatic, Photo Shop Express, Flickr, and TiltShift Generator. But all the great photos Foster Huntington was posting to his Twitter forced me to join the conversation.
Instagram, or more appropriately, Instagr.am, is my new obsession.
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Guy and Susanna Clark
Photographer Jim McGuire’s Nashville Portraits are a source of infinite inspiration. They’re a glimpse at my favorite side of Music City. The artists featured are Country Music at its finest. The photos are living testament to specific times and places. In the two photos of Mr. Steve Earle, before and after prison, it’s clear this man lived. And he lived hard. The photos prove that a Nudie Suit has its place, but all you really need is a T-shirt or a Western shirt and an old pair of jeans.
I’ve loved
Old No. 1, whose cover featured
Susanna’s painting of a chambray shirt, and particularly “Let Him Roll,” since first discovering it while living in a cat-stained duplex in Queens. I can’t remember how or why, but guarantee that it probably stemmed from a passionate delving into the life and times of
Townes Van Zandt. Like Townes, Mr. Clark writes songs that sound like movies about people I’d want to meet. Pick their brains. Sift through the gravel in their stories. Extract them Denver nuggets. He can shove a three hour cinematic experience into three-and-a-half minutes. That he does it consistently, well, that ain’t so bad neither.
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