John Lautner, White Russians & Broken Hearts.

I used to live in London and it was great and all, if a little chilly.  I spent a few months one year running about town with a lovely man. He was quite delightful and looked like an elf. I like elves. In November of that year, he decided that he no longer wanted to run around town with me, which was a little upsetting. After being delivered this joyful news, I met my big brother and he took me to a swanky book opening in Soho and bought me a gazillion White Russians. We got superbly drunk and then had a McDonald's take out which we ate on the tube on the way home. The next morning I woke up, quite heart sore and sweating cow juice from the White Russians and the Big Mac. I spent the next few months recreating that combination of ingredients (minus the break-up conversation) and having a gay old time - even if it was slightly tinged with rejection and hurt feelings. It was around this time that I kept falling over on my way to work in the mornings. This wasn't from the demon drink, but more I think from a feeling of being out-of-balance with the world. It was embarrassing and after falling I would sometimes just lie there, being too mortified to get up. This is not a good idea, because then people around you assume you are mortally wounded and run over and make a fuss and kerfuffle. I learnt, it's much better to quickly jump up and pretend nothing happened.

I started drinking White Russians the year before this series of disastrous events. My friend Margot and I used to escape the perils of London every couple of weeks by trekking to her house in the countryside. No-one else would be there and we would spend the weekend eating, drinking and watching re-runs of our favourite films - one of these being the Big Lebowski - hence the White Russians. There was a time when we could both lip-synch along to hour long chunks of the film, which is very annoying for anyone other than us. We still think we're HILARIOUS.

The very long-winded point of all this is, that John Lautner, the architect who designed the house that The Dude has to visit to see Mr Lebowski - the one where Bunny is outside painting her toes green (Tara Reid before she got a bit ragged) - is the subject of the new exhibition at the Hammer. I haven't been yet but I hear wonderful reviews - I have a delicious book of his in the store "Between Earth & Heaven: The Architecture of John Lautner".  The images above are from said book...