MARC D’AVIGNON. BLOG.

Once and awhile you get to work on something that changes things.  Maybe you find it bubbling just under the surface, already there.  Maybe you set it into motion, fresh and new.  Maybe you just get lucky.  But whatever the reason, the work touches people- makes them think, or even rethink commonly held assumptions.  So here’s to a team of amazing people – Andrew, Rob, Jeff, Tiffany, Omid, Liz, Bekah, Tim, Andy, Andrew, Todd, Kate, Jesse, Andy, Yvette, Becky, Lindsey, the cogs, the content managers, the production department, the media department, all the attractive people at CP+B I don’t have room to list here, Guy, Amir, No6, Smuggler, Pretty Bird, Method and of course the wonderful, brave people of Bolthouse Farms.  Everybody came together as a team to create something rare.  And it’s not just the New York Times, Salon.com, Huffpo, or even the Kolner Stadt-Anzeiger that have taken notice and become part of a much needed debate about what and how we eat, but real people - high school kids, mommy bloggers and snackers across the world – are now questioning what it means to eat ‘em like junk food.  Check out the effort at babycarrots.com, be part of the conversation on twitter, download the app and check out the spots after the jump.

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October 1st, 2010       No Comments

October 17th I’ll be running the Nike Women’s Marathon (yes I know) with Team in Training in support of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. And I need your help. For the three people who actually read this blog, please help me out if you can. I’ll even try and sweeten the deal with the following:

I am selling my body parts. I haven’t had to resort to selling my entire body but I am willing to do so. In the meantime, I am selling off various body parts. $50 each. For an arm, a leg, a thigh, hands etc. You will own that space for the entirety of race-day and put anything you like there: a marker message of hope, a drawing, or an opportunity to call me names, deride my appearance and call into question why I’m even alive, breathing your delicious oxygen.  Swearing is encouraged.

Secondly, I am also selling space on my “Get Totally Pumped Race Playlist.” If it was up to me it’d be filled with nothing but Billy Ocean and Van Halen. But it’s not up to me. For $5 you can make me listen to any song you want. You can lift my spirits by getting the Led out or you can torture me with Yanni. Your choice. Buy multiples or put up whole albums.  And if I barf along the way it might just be because of your Mannheim Steamroller.

So please help out if you can. I’ll send you a pic of the body part you buy and your song in my playlist and I’ll periodically update this post to indicate who bought what (if anything). You can leave your message or song in the comments section on the donation page. And remember, cancer strikes anyone, anywhere.  And while it might not be a part of your life now, if may be in the future. So let’s fucking cure it, eh?

If you’d like to read my motivations for running and to donate, visit here.

If you’d like more information about Team in Training or the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society visit here and here.

Thanks,

Marc

July 21st, 2010       No Comments

Marty owned a bar called The View on Zion St. and would fuck drunk freshman girls on a dirty mattress in the basement. Why the mattress was dirty was never discussed. It could have easily been a clean mattress, but that would have made the rumor less appealing.

Confirmation of this story was one of the reasons I wanted to work at The View. The other was an unconfirmed, but strongly held idea that if I worked at a bar, I would get to drink for free. And possibly fuck drunk freshman girls.

The View occupied the ground floor of a brick apartment building at the foot of the hill, below the school. To the right, was a package store run by a Greek family whose establishment served the key 17-20 year old demographic. “Yes, and what is your address Mr. George Schultz?” You’d answer, he’d smile at your answer and everyone would be pleased that the ritual of the law had been upheld.

To the left, was a barbershop. Thick venetian blinds obscured the interior. I had never seen it open. Upstairs someone sold reasonably priced cocaine.  They’d deliver if the weather was agreeable.

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May 18th, 2010       No Comments

James came to my birthday party this summer and with grit and poise he destroyed the universe, remade it with his mind, had a sandwich, destroyed it again and remade it whole a second time.

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December 21st, 2009       No Comments

As you no doubt subscribe to Yankees magazine you have seen this ad.  Thanks to Jimm Lasser, Brian Murphy, Tyler Wisnand and Ryan Johnson.  The August ad will put them in 1st and the September ad will win them the division.

July 6th, 2009       No Comments

The Huxtables were everything your family was not.  They were kind, nice people. Even when someone did something wrong, like getting an ear pierced by Cockroach’s sister, the family addressed the problem not with physical violence, alcohol abuse (except for Vanessa) or mean-spirited accusations regarding sexual orientation.  Instead, the family members would stage an elaborate morality play involving hair straightener, petanque and a visit by Sammy Davis Jr.

The Huxtables never made jam on the Cosby show.  But they might have.  The recipe is as follows:
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June 26th, 2009       No Comments

Special thanks to Laurie Ann Greenberg at Halo Salon for accepting the challenge.

June 17th, 2009       No Comments

Oxnard, CA is the home of an early 1980s hardcore punk movement charmingly titled “Nardcore.”  We learned this from the crew on this Haddon Sundblom-inspired shoot which took place in the ‘Nard.  We all agreed that anyone who listened to Nardcore was probably cooler than us.  Gary Land is a swell photographer.  Thanks to Chris Thurman,  James “Machinelander” Moslander and Marni Beardsley.  Please note the amazing copy.  More…

June 11th, 2009       No Comments

Rosa knocked lightly on 213.

“Housekeeping.”

There was no response, so she knocked louder.

“Housekeeping.”

Nothing.  She inserted her keycard and let it snap back on the retractable cord.   Dropping a wedge, she slid it under the door and walked inside.

The room smelled sour.  Cigarette butts floated in the sink and beer cans littered every flat surface.  Sickness spilled out of the toilet bowl and onto the floor.   A pile of dirty towels was a testament to a quickly abandoned cleanup.

Rosa sighed.  It was beautiful yesterday.

She rounded the corner and saw a small man with a big stomach asleep, naked on top of the sheets.  His mouth wheezed and gasped as the muscles in his chest struggled against a gelatinous prison, which spilled over his hips and drowned his penis.  He was an unfortunate man.

Backing out, she knocked over a stack of 11” x 17” foamcore boards featuring a leering woman promoting the usage of Herbal Essences Hydrolicious “Dangerously Straight” Shampoo.

The man stirred, lifted his swollen eyelids and spoke:

“Fuck off.”

Rosa closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to Mictlantecuhtli, the Aztec god of death.  And he appeared before her, mighty and terrible.

Rotting flesh and exposed organs hung loosely off his blackened bones and the feathers on his owl head were clotted with dried blood.  He opened his mouth and let out a silent scream that sucked the light from the room.

Without a sound, the god stepped towards the bed and plunged a clawed hand deep into the sleeping man’s chest.  The fat man’s eyes went wide in shock, but he was too terrified to make a sound.  Mictlantecuhtli lifted the heart and swallowed the bloody thing whole.

Licking his lips, he spoke a word and summoned fire.  Unleashed, it devoured the body on the bed until all that remained of the small man with the big stomach was a pile of ash.  Content, Mictlantecuhtli willed the fire and himself out of existence.

The room was quiet.  Rosa opened her eyes and looked at the bed.  She went to her cart and returned with a Dustbuster.  Turning on the television, she switched it to Univision.  “El Gordo Y La Flaca” was on.

June 10th, 2009       No Comments

This wouldn’t have happened without the talent and dedication of some spectacular people.  Thank you Mom and Dad, Ross, Lee, James, Matt, Todd, Kylie, Hal, Sheena, Ryan, Thomas, Julia, Amber, Andrea, the Studio, Joint, everyone at W+K, Tina, Andrew, Thibault, Neysa, Michael, everyone at Psyop, Flying Fish, Tom, the folks at Mollie’s, Stimmung and Lime.

January 29th, 2009       No Comments