All posts by The Usual

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Curating Culture: Our Interview with Gallerist Bill Powers

Of the hundreds of art spaces in New York City, Bill Powers and his Half Gallery stand out. Behind signature rose-colored glasses, Powers has a keen eye for exceptional talent, who he lets run wild in his recently relocated uptown space. Along with his wife, designer Cynthia Rowley—whom he met while interviewing her for BlackBook magazine—he also runs Exhibition A, curating and selling affordable prints by some of the city’s best artists. The native New Yorker and Montauk local has also dabbled in reality TV—as judge of Bravo’s Work of Art. But that’s just the half (no pun intended) of it: he’s also a published author, master networker, and still finds time for family, surfing, and talking to us about all of the above.

On Montauk:
My grandparents had a fishing boat at the Montauk Marine Basinand we used to stay on the boat when I was a little kid. In a lot of ways it remains the same [as it was back then], in that there are no traffic lights, and all the touristy t-shirt shops you could ever want. And I think that John’s ice cream shop opened the year I was born in ’67. I love Montauk. It’s the least Hamponized out of any of the towns out here still. I know people have the “no fedora” stickers and complain about too many nightclubs. But if you don’t seek that stuff out and just go to the beach and go surfing and grill at your house you can be immune to a lot of those invasion complaints.

On meeting Cynthia:
I was a little nervous. The one funny thing is I stepped out of the room for a minute. I don’t remember if I left the tape recorder on, or if she turned it on, but she goes to her assistant, “I mean, he’s cute but these questions are really boring.” Then later when I was transcribing the tape and I got to that point, my ego demanded that it had to be a joke. That was either 1996 or 1997. Then we both married other people. When we got divorced, years later, we got together.

On the beach in East Hampton

His wife’s creativity:
I always think it’s amazing that she got her creative/commercial spark from her grandfather on her mom’s side, who had gone to Pratt and was an illustrator. In her office, she has the Pabst Blue Ribbon logo that he designed with his name on the bottom and a Patent Pending stamp. I think it’s an interesting clue to her wanting to do something creative that has that immediate commercial application.

Prepping for interviews:
Now I pretty much only interview artists. Last year Gagosian put out a book of my artist interviews. Most of the time it’s someone whose work I know or have admired. What’s nice about doing an interview like that is it’s like looking for an apartment in New York: you just have to ask everyone you know that you think might have information. I can’t remember who told me that Ed Ruscha used to live in Swifty Lazar’s old house; or I remembered seeing Dan Colen collecting trash in a Louis Vuitton bag and thought, “What the hell is this?” It turned out to be the beginning of his collecting stuff for his Trash paintings. Sometimes proximity is information too.

Getting into the gallery business: In 2008 I was helping the guys from the nonprofit RxArt find a space on the Lower East Side. They only needed half the space and they were looking for someone to rent out the front half of their office. I ran it by Andy Spade, and he said let’s do something together and we’ll call it Half Gallery.

Artist discovery:
There’s not really a formula to it. We opened this Eddie Martinez show (below). And we’re doing a Rene Ricard tribute show. Then we’re showing an Irish painter that Richard Prince discovered on Twitter last year. So there’s not really a clear path.

Uptown vs. Downtown:
After being downtown for five years we were ready for a change. At the time it seemed unexpected to move to the Upper East Side, but we’re a block from where Calder and Picasso used to show. We’re a block away from the old Castelli Gallery. There are more and more galleries opening up here. It’s funny to see Harmony Korine open up here at Gagosian. It’s nice to walk some new floors and get some new ideas. On the business side it’s been amazing. We get less foot traffic at the openings, but more buyers. Since we moved up here we’ve been written up in the New Yorker twice and that never happened downtown. I don’t mean to be a geographic snob because I know the New Yorker will also write about shows downtown, but it never happened for us.

Montauk’s artist history:
I appreciate that there’s art out here. I like that it’s where Warhol had his house, and Peter Beard is still out here. And Julian Schnabel’s in the Seven Sister’s houses as well as Bruce Weber.

Surfing slip-ups:
I once made the mistake of excitedly asking Kelly Slater, “Have you ever been surfing out in Montauk?” and he’s like “Yeah, it sucks, why do you ask?” And I was like, “Oh, never mind.”

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On reality TV:
I think it’s one and done on that. I had a lot of fun and it would have been cool if it kept on going just because there’s so little art on television.

His summer reading list:
There’s the catalog for the Raymond Pettibon “Surfers” show. Cynthia has a few copies for sale in the store in Montauk [696 Montauk Hwy]. The last book I read was Rachel Kushner’s Flame Throwers.


Surf Siren Stephanie Gilmore

Nicknamed “Happy Gilmore” for a reason, no one looks more psyched during a contest than 5-time ASP world champion surfer Stephanie Gilmore. Her creativity on a wave, which she describes as “drawing with her feet,” is matched only by her passion for competition. This spirit is captured in Stephanie in the Water, a documentary about her life, her enthusiasm for the sport, and the random physical attack she endured outside her home in Australia just after winning her 4th ASP trophy. Ever the fighter, she comes back stronger and more resolute. She shares that journey with us here.

Stephanie in the Water is not only a story about your life and career, but it’s also inspiring to anyone passionate about what they do. Did you and director Ava Warbrick have a set idea of what you wanted to depict when you started the project?
Ava grew up around surfing, but had been detached from it for like 10 years living in New
York City. I was at a point in my career where I’d already won a few world titles, and I was like “Okay, I want to explore the rest of the world.” So Ava and I started filming adventures in different parts of the world. She was filming me running around Paris and New York, doing things that took me out of my usual world. As time went on, my actual story evolved and got better, and Ava started to see a deeper transformation in myself. Everyone tries to figure themselves out at some point, so there was this story inside of a story. There was drama, there were world titles, there was a ‘hero moment.’ And I was able to let the camera in because I was so trustworthy of Ava.

The drama comes when you were attacked outside of your home in 2010. You’re still very emotional talking about it in the film. Now that you have some distance, do you have a different perspective on what happened to you?
The year I did that interview it was really fresh. It was 2011, probably the most important year of my life. I learned so much about myself, about the way I compete, about the world. It was a real defining moment and time in my life. I wanted to figure things out. For some reason I was able to do that early, even if I was emotional about it. When I look back to it, I surprise myself how quickly I was able to heal.

Other people have the luxury of healing without being in the public eye, but you were in it the whole time. Was that challenging?
When you go and see a counselor or a psychologist, what you do is you talk about it with them. When you’re in the media, those are the hot questions. “Tell us about the attack. What happened?” I felt like I was explaining it and talking about it on a pretty regular basis, it helped me to understand it better. You’re like “Yeah it happened. But I’m still here, and I can talk about it. And let’s just move on.”

Your sister plays a prominent role in your career as your manager, and must have been a great support at the time. Does that help keep you grounded?
Definitely. I have an incredible family. A lot of the values that we’ve grown up with have been from our parents, who are super chill. My dad, he still surfs more than anyone that I know. Our mom’s a school teacher, and she’s super relaxed. So yeah, it’s great to have my sister on tour, it makes traveling a lot of fun.

A lot of people on the road have their significant other with them, and your sister has said she was there for you in that way. But you must meet so many hot dudes on tour?
Yeah! Traveling is hard when it’s nonstop on the road. When you’re competing, you really want to focus on yourself, and as I said before, surfing can be quite selfish, so you have to sacrifice things. I like to travel and be independent, and not have to worry about any attachments anywhere else around the world. I like to be present where I am.

You’ve said something to the effect of when you take off on a wave, you’re drawing with your feet. In a way do you feel like an artist when you’re surfing?
Totally. Surfing is one of the most creative outlets for any human being. It’s like dancing. It’s a performing art. The fact that we’re in the ocean, we’re riding waves, you have traveled so far out to sea, and then we share a moment with that wave before it crashes and disappears into nothing—the last dying moment of that wave’s life. It’s quite spiritual and a deeper kind of thing. It reminds me of how you’ve said when you first started getting in the water on a boogie board—you wanted to be close to shore so everyone on the beach could see you. It’s almost like you’re a performance artist. I still love that. That’s one of my favorite parts about being a competitor on the ASP world tour. I love to actually surf and have the crowd on the beach, and everyone cheering for you or booing for you, whatever it is. It magnifies the whole competitive experience. And when you win, getting brought out on the beach through a crowd of people, you feel like a rock star for a couple of minutes.

You look so happy during contests. Do you actually love competing?
Definitely. From such a young age I loved being at events, the atmosphere. I get nervous, and I have to buckle down and focus on things, and strategize and figure out ways to win the events; but at the same time, I enjoy it. There are a lot of people who get too serious. I owe a lot of my success to the fact that I’m just having fun. You go on trips with a lot of girls on your team, but you’ve said that you don’t want to get too close to them because you know that you’re going to compete with them. I think that’s [the same] for any kind of athlete. One the women’s tour there are only 17 of us there, so we’re all pretty close friends. We all know each other really well, and we’re all traveling from the same destinations with our boards meeting up around the world. At the end of the day, it’s an incredible lifestyle that we get to experience together. But yeah, we’re not confiding in each other. There’s definitely a line you have to draw to really be able to find that assertiveness when you’re competing against someone.

What about with Carissa Moore, who took the 2011 ASP title. How is it outside the water with the two of you?
It’s a real rivalry, and it’s healthy. Both of us have such a respect for each other, and I think Carissa is the most talented female surfer on tour at the moment. But yeah, I don’t exactly go and hang out with her.

When you’re winning all these contests are you doing it for anyone other than yourself? Are you representing women? Or your country?
Surfing can be selfish because it’s a very individual sport. At the start of my career there wasn’t really much else to it. It still is that way, but at the same time now, I definitely have a more of a role model position. Women’s surfing is in such a great place right now, and all of us are representing women’s surfing, but I feel like we’re also representing female athletes around the world, no matter what sport you come from. That’s always playing in my mind—doing it right and doing it classy and representing everyone the best way I can, including my own brand.

Have you faced more challenges as a woman in the industry trying to get recognized? Or is gender less of an issue these days than it used to be?
Surfing was very male dominated for so long. Now it’s come to a great place and we have a lot of respect from the guys for what we do. There’s definitely parts here and there that we’re still fighting to get our space, but at the same time, we’re doing such a good job at what we do, so we’re heading in the right direction.

When we ask female athletes about their position as a female athlete, it’s like, “Can we not even address the fact that I’m a female, just that I’m a great athlete?” It’s this fine line of raising awareness around it, or just letting it progress on its own.
Female surfers are trying to do exactly that. We’re trying to let the surfing do the talking, more than anything—that is going to gain us that respect or that extra media attention, if we really knuckle down and work hard as athletes. To evolve as great surfers will do more talking than anything else.

In the film, Jessi Miley-Dyer, who was pro at the time, and now retired, talked about how she was going to school as a backup plan to her surf career. Is having a backup plan something that has crossed your mind?
I don’t really think about it, and I never really did. As soon as I finished high school, I was ready to go on tour. I was so confident in my abilities to be successful on the surfing world tour that I didn’t think twice. I’m sure if something happened, and I had to change, then I’d figure out a way to adjust. But it is true. A lot of surfers I’ve met have really struggled because they’ve been on tour without sponsors. They spend a lot of money traveling, trying to do events, not doing that great, and then getting a little lost because they come to the end of their career and don’t really have qualifications or real work experience. But in my eyes, traveling the world is the best working experience. It opens your mind, and these [are the kind of people] who can adjust and fit into any situation quite easily.

You’ve been working with Roxy since 2013, how has that experience been?
It’s been great. Obviously I started with Quiksilver Women’s, and then I moved towards Roxy. In my eyes, I’ve always looked up to Roxy, the way they sort of market women’s surfing has always been the most iconic and authentic to female surfing. They just make it look fun. I think almost every young girl is obsessed with Roxy at some point in their life. So yeah, it’s been fun to come on board with them and surf with Monyca, Kelia, Bruna, and Lisa Anderson. I get to hang out with Lisa. She’s one of my hugest inspirations.

Do you have a favorite place to surf?
There are so many favorite places. I really love Australia because it’s where I live. We have world-class waves, and the water’s clear there. Then I’d have to say Indonesia, West Sumatra, the Mentawais. The waves out there are mind-blowingly perfect, and warm. Then Mainland Mexico. I love all those right hand point breaks.

You’re from Australia. Do you fit into the stereotype of Aussies being pretty wild?
Party animals? They love beer, that’s for sure. I’m proud to be Australian. Growing up in Australia has given myself and my sisters such a healthy upbringing. Our countryside, our beaches are absolutely stunning, our landscape is incredible, and to have the waves that we have, the weather that we have. We’re really quite isolated from the rest of the world, but we’re spoiled with opportunities to get into surfing, to lead a really active, healthy lifestyle. Although we live in probably one of the best countries in the world, everyone makes enough money to pack their bags and start traveling. I love that about Australians—they want to get out and see the world. As soon as you say you’re Australian, no matter where you are people accept you, and they’re curious about Australia because they’ve never been, it’s so far away. “Do you guys ride around on kangaroos? Are there koalas hanging out in the streets and stuff?” They ask.

So that’s not all true?
I mean it kind of is. But it’s probably a little more like America than most people think.

You’ve spent a lot of time in Montauk and were there for the Roxy Classic last year. What do you love about the area?
It’s such a cool little community, and everyone knows each other, which reminds me of my hometown called Murwillumbah, or Kingscliff. I love any little beach surf town because there’s good vibes there. What’s surprising to me was how many girls get into surfing [in Montauk]. The cold water would be the biggest deterrent, but it doesn’t seem to phase them. It’s so cool to see such a big group of girls laughing together, and there’s a lot of moms teaching their daughters how to surf.

Do you have any advice for young water women that want to follow in your footsteps?
My best advice would be surf as much as you can. If you can get someone to film you so you can watch yourself, that’s going to improve your surfing out of sight. Never underestimate yourself. And have fun.

Jauretsi: How A New Generation Reimagines Cuba´s Future

Creative multi-tasker Jauretsi Saizarbitoria is on a mission to warm the icy, generational stalemate between the US and Cuba. Born in Miami to émigrés who ran one of Cuba’s most popular restaurants, Saizarbitoria does this by fostering positive dialogue on her blog, radio show, and in her directorial debut east of Havana. For our collaborative publication with the Miami Beach Edition, we spoke with Jauretsi below.

Jauretsi’s parents met when Totty happened upon Juanito, the successful new Centro Vasco restauranteur, shortly after the business moved to Miami from post-revolution Havana.


Jauretsi’s mom Totty arrived in Miami at age 16. She quickly became a respected hairdresser, working with clients like Nancy Sinatra and Zsa Zsa Gabor during the Fountainbleau Hotel’s infamous Rat Pack era.


Juanito, patriarch of the Saizarbitoria clan, sits centered among original Centro Vasco patrons. This mainstay for Basques, Spaniards, and athletes was famous in the 1940s and 50s in Havana.


How are you involved with the Miami Beach Edition?
I was invited to do a playlist for the [hotel]. I was a DJ for 20 years, and have a lot of music. Being a Cuban-American, I collect a lot of Latin funk and Cuban classics. I like to keep it funky sometimes.

What’s happening in the contemporary Cuban music scene?
That was one of the questions I had when I went down to do my documentary [East of Havana]. On a global level we’re all very familiar with the Buena Vista Social Club type voice, which is so much a part of what Cuba is. But for me as a young Cuban-American, I wanted to know what the teenagers were talking about.

So I went down there to figure out what the “word on the street” was, and search out street parties to find out what young Cubans were expressing internally. Ultimately, they are the ones who will decide what’s going to happen in Cuba. This was the early 2000s, which are considered the “golden years” of rap down there. Hip hop began in New York in the 70s, but just like anything, Cubans caught onto it 20 years later. But the scene was blowing up and a fever was brewing.

American hip hop has gangster rap, but there’s not as much of that culture in Cuba, and really no money down there—no bling rap going on. So when they play it, it’s more of a critical view on society—their form of social activism. They’re doing it because it’s therapeutic and it’s a way to discuss the neighborhood: the 90s were a very tough decade for young Cubans, with food shortages, blackouts, and a desperate lack of basic needs.

What’s happening now is that the hip hop scene has mutated and morphed because the government put rules and regulations on it. Here’s the inherent conundrum of rap in Cuba: it’s an art rooted in freedom of expression, obviously improvising and freestyling, and you’re in a country where there’s no freedom of expression politically. So at one point those factors collided.

When you went down to film East of Havana was that your first time in Cuba?
I had been there a few times before we filmed. If you’re a Cuban-American and you go back to Cuba, it’s traditionally perceived as being a traitor to your people. So you have to get past all that guilt while breaking through. For my parents’ generation, it’s almost like the boogeyman on the other side of the wall. Their last memories were traumatizing on the island. The first trip is not the trip that you’re like, “I get it.” You have to go around the island and have a lot of conversations. It’s a really interesting healing process of our generation that I think a lot of young Cubans need to go through. I’ll say to young Cubans, “Have you been back?” and they’ll say, “No, I’m waiting for Fidel to die.” My advice to them is “You need to start. It’s going to be a long road.” I think my generation is responsible for holding hands and reconciling. There’s a mess down there in some ways and a lot of work that needs to be done. I don’t think that’s going to happen until the young Cuban-Americans go down there and roll their sleeves up and ask “How can we help?”

Is it mostly Cuban-Americans who are the ones to affect change? Will the US or Cuban governments have anything to do with it?
The government runs everything in Cuba; there are no independent businesses. So when you engage with business in Cuba, you’re really doing business with the government, which is one of the reasons the older Cubans get pissed off about people visiting Cuba. Their rhetoric is, you’re funding tourism, which is keeping the country afloat, and pretty much supporting the enemy—which is a really hardcore way of looking at it.

But my point is when you go down there, and you have to stay at a hotel sometimes, there are other things you can do to empower the community. Maybe I have an issue of The Economist in my backpack from Miami and I give it to someone who can’t buy The Economist in Cuba. Perhaps I can offer an old cell phone to a local friend? I call it cultural exchange and I think it’s 50/50. As much as an American can go down there with material goods, in return, they have taught me so much more than I could have ever learned about the culture. It’s more of a form of equal exchange—spiritually and in every other way.

What was it like for your family to leave Cuba and make an entirely new home in Miami?
It’s a post-traumatic situation. In the 60s, several of my parents’ generation were fleeing to Miami for just a couple months, planning to go back. No one thought they would stay 50 years. So the running dialogue was, “It’ll only be a year…it’ll only be two years…it’ll only be 10 years,” like they were going to be there temporarily. No one knew it was going to be a lifetime.

In the 70s when they realized they were staying, there was a whole round of elder Miami Cubans who tried to take back Cuba on a paramilitary level. In the 80s the hardliners learned how to put a suit on and go to Washington DC and really implement deeper laws with the embargo. The fight became less cowboys and Indians and more governmental. Instead of militaristically taking it back, they were going to create laws to choke Cuba until they fell to their knees and asked for democracy.

The issue with the embargo is, it’s been 50-something years and it hasn’t worked yet. So the voice that I play with and write about on my blog, and put on the radio show—the philosophy—is less about isolating Cuba and more about engaging with Cuba again.

In general, what was it like growing up in Miami for you?
It was awesome. Southern Florida does not feel like the United States at some points. When you come to Miami, you communicate mostly in Spanish. Your grandparents never learn English. The way the neighborhoods are set up, everyone at the bank, the supermarket, the pharmacy, speaks Spanish. You’re raised hearing Celia Cruz play out of the radio in the kitchen, having cafe con leche in the kitchen. Not to mention at the dinner table everyone’s arguing about Fidel Castro, and older Cubans are waxing poetic. The running joke in Miami is that everything was better in Cuba. It’s like, “This breeze was better in Havana.”

Part of the paradox of being raised in Miami is you have Cuban culture shoved down your throat, but then the second you say, “I want to go there!” you get slapped in the face. You can love it to death—this idea of Cuba—but don’t ever even think twice about going 90 miles south.

Though eventually you made the pilgrimage back to Cuba?
My family had a really hot restaurant [Centro Vasco] in Cuba in the 50s. In the 60s my dad brought it to Miami. Everyone went across the pond and just landed in Dad’s place. Celia Cruz played there, all the greats played there. Fast forward to the mid 90s: we booked one woman who still lived in Cuba to play there, and that started a lot of protests in Miami, and much darker stuff that I won’t even share—threatening phone calls and stuff.

My parents did not cancel the show, despite the pressure. If anything it turned into many nights sold out. One night turned into eight sold-out shows, and in the middle of the night, someone threw a Molotov cocktail and torched the restaurant. Eventually, reservations fell out of the book, people freaked out, kids’ birthdays moved. This 1950s McCarthyism-type fear of Communism is very much alive in Miami, although things are changing slowly. We lost a 50-year family business because of one show, and the fact that some cannot separate art and politics.

As deep of a curse as it was to my family, it liberated me to go to Cuba, because when that happened, I looked at my parents and I said “I’m going.” We lost our house, we lost the building, and I was like, “That’s it,” there’s nothing else left to lose at this point. I went there to explore the roots of my culture, and was awoken to a whole new movement percolating.

You’re a multi-tasker in terms of creativity from curation, film, writing, digital content. Did being raised around the restaurant and the community you grew up in in Miami help you with all these varied roles?
Only in my later years have I learned this about myself, but I’ve come from a place of following my nose for my whole life and following my passion. With that comes jumping careers, moving to New York by myself without knowing anybody, and starting from scratch after being established in Miami growing up. I think having Cuban DNA and knowing people who persevered hardships affected me. Many successful Cubans who were exiled lost everything and had to come to a brand-new country, learn a brand-new language, and start from scratch. A lot of my elders became successful all over again, from sweeping floors to being CEOs again. So it wasn’t until recently that I thought, “Wow I guess I’m not really afraid of these peaks and valleys in a traditional sense.”

I guess the answer is that the highs and lows don’t really scare me, it’s just following your gut. If you really set your mind to it, success is in your hands. I learned that from the people I grew up with. On top of the fact that I learned the gift of gab, and all the other fun Cuban stuff that lights up a room [laughs].


A Family Affair
Jauretsi talks shop with her parents Totty and Juanito

Jauretsi: Centro Vasco was one of the most popular restaurants in Cuba. What was it like for Juan [Jauretsi’s grandfather] to move on and take it to the next country?
Totty & Juanito: After 20 years of working in Cuba and the Cuban government taking our business away and everything we worked for, starting again wasn’t easy. We had to rent a small restaurant in Miami that opened on May 20, 1962. Then, after three years of it going very well, we bought another space and located it to a new building. It was called The Garden on 8th Street (Calle Ocho), the heart of Little Havana. This space was to become the classic Centro Vasco in Miami.

What was the cultural and political atmosphere like in Miami back then?
Juan: Cubans arrived fleeing Fidel Castro and the revolution, and the atmosphere was very difficult and sad. They took everything—their houses and their businesses. The government [confiscated] all homes and restaurants. We had to leave because of not sympathizing with [Castro’s] revolution.

How did you and other Cuban exiles make Miami feel like a new home?
Juan: At first it was very difficult to adapt. We worked seven days a week for several years and then we started to get accustomed. It began to feel like home.

How has Miami changed in the decades since you’ve been living here?
Juan: In the 60s Miami was very small, with a lot of older people. Nobody went out at night and the TV was on until 11 pm. When we opened the first restaurant, Americans would come to try Spanish food. At the time they still wouldn’t drink wine, they weren’t used to wine. They would order paella and then the waiter would ask, “Want to order a drink?” and they would get coffee. It would taste horrible, a paella with an American coffee!

Why wouldn’t they drink wine?
Totty: At the time wine wasn’t in. Wine started to introduce itself little by little because of the Spanish and the Latins. You know, Juanito has eaten with a glass of wine his whole life, and you know, Cubans generally drink beer. But imagine sitting down with an American coffee! It’s just funny because these are the things that were done at the time. Wow, but so gross.

What was the concept behind Centro Vasco restaurant when it first opened in Miami?
Juan: The concept was to maintain the tradition in the food and to attract the same kind of clientele we had in Cuba, all the people that were arriving [in Miami] at the time.

What kind of people frequented Centro Vasco when it was operating in Cuba, and then when it was open in Miami?
Totty: In Cuba there were first the Spanish. After a while he became famous with a restaurant in the Vedado area in 1952. Famous people started to become the clientele—families, VIPs, and artists. Among them Ava Gardner, Errol Flynn, Marlon Brando, Hemingway…until the end of the 60s. At the restaurant in Miami, the most important associations of Cubans would gather all the time. A lot of US Presidents came to visit—Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan. A lot of VIPs—Madonna, Jennifer Lopez. Gianni Versace was a regular visitor. Aside from that, it was traditional Cuban families from all over the country, and foreigners who wanted authentic Spanish cuisine and a Cuban experience.


Cover: Jauretsi portrait. Photo: Gerald Forster.

Irvine Welsh: Trainspotting’s Author on EDM and Addiction

Two decades after penning cult classic Trainspotting, Irvine Welsh’s controversial, canny prose is as socially relevant as ever. Today, a South Florida lifestyle of working out, oceanfront cocktails, and social media binges may not seem punk rock, but writing keeps him connected to his working-class Scottish roots.

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Alex Gartenfeld: A Young Curator’s Pioneering Approach to Miami’s Newest Institution

With a keen eye and entrepreneurial spirit, 27-year-old Alex Gartenfeld launched his first curatorial endeavor out of a cramped Chinatown, NY apartment. Many critically acclaimed exhibitions later, and after a long run as Art In America and Interview‘s online editor, Gartenfeld uprooted to sunny Florida. Continue reading