Michael Nassar

Braised Ayrshire pig’s nose with parsley sauce and lemon.  Yes, you read that right – for breakfast.

Before the madness of tech week and the opening in London take over – and the further madness of the Edinburgh Festival – I’ve allowed myself a day’s break up to the Kingdom of Fife and the little university town of St. Andrews.  Hopefully a friendly twenty-four hours of allowing myself to be a tourist will steel me for the insanity to come.

Overlooking the city yet still very much in the center of town is Calton Hill, Edinburgh’s neo-classical answer to the Greek Acropolis.

Here’s the just-released artwork for a show I am producing this summer in London and Edinburgh:  The Screams of Kitty Genovese, by David Simpatico and Will Todd.  I’ll be pimping it ceaselessly as August approaches but for now, consider yourselves teased.

MAY

TURKS & CAICOS:  Providenciales has to be one of my favorite islands when I’m looking to kick back and relax. (A rare occasion, but nevertheless….)  So naturally there was an epic internal struggle when I found myself at the minimalist-chic Gansevoort South for a weekend-long fitness bootcamp.  Led by the inspiring  – and very fit – founder’s of NYC’s Core Fusion classes in an outdoor pavillion at the onsite exhale spa, it was a butt-lifting, yoga-infused sweatfest that had me comfortably fitting into formerly-snug jeans by the time I headed home.  And sporting a great tan to boot.

SCOTLAND:  There must be some Scottish blood in me somewhere because I always feel particularly at home here in Edinburgh.  Even in a kilt – which was the occasion for this particular visit. Interviewing the irascible Howie Nicholsby, designer and founder of 21st Century Kilts, I was tempted to try one one.  After a laddish afternoon together in full kit, I was hooked and had to have my own.  If you’re the kind of guy that thinks a rambunctious puppy or a well orchestrated baby is a chick magnet, I’ve got one word for you:  kilt.  And if you think that chocolate lab melts the hearts of ladies everywhere and leads to phone numbers in pocket, you’ll be bowled over by the inquiring and admiring eyes that greet a man in a kilt.  Gentlemen,  it defies fashion.  And a little bit of turbulence in a kilt goes an awful long way, too.

Stravaigin restaurant

In Glasgow, the reality of Scottish food need not strike fear in your heart. The restaurant scene is as scrubbed and polished and locally sourced as Edinburgh or London, with well-served – even Michelin-starred – spots catering to every taste: Gamba, for the best fish in town; Stravaigin for truly eclectic (and often experimental)  fare like rook; Rogano’s for Art Deco splendor; One Devonshire Gardens for stars -  Gordon Ramsay cut his teeth at the hotel’s restaurant, Amarylis, before making for the bright lights of London and New York; and Rawalpindi for your curry fix. However, you simply cannot go to Scotland and miss out on trying haggis.

Poet-laureate Robert Burns may have written an ode to the humble haggis, but surely no other national dish causes the uninitiated to quiver in quite the same way.  It’s mythology of unmentionable bits ‘n’ pieces wrapped in a cow stomach and deep fried is quite untrue for the most part.  Certainly you can get your “haggis bits” from any number of chip shops – and downright disgusting they are; go for a deep fried Mars bar after a late night out instead – but real haggis is a dish of offal worth savoring. Along  Ashton Lane, in the cobbled boho West End, Ronnie Clydesdale’s Ubiquitous Chip has been serving homemade versions of vegetarian and venison haggis with neeps and tatties (mashed potatoes and turnips) for thirty years.  And you’ll think it ever so strange, but trust me, haggis tastes even better the next day, cold, for breakfast.

Once your appetite gets whetted for all things edible and Scottish (it has been known to happen) a visit to the Babbity Bowster in Blackfriars should be in order.  Fill up with Stovies, a traditional Scottish version of beef stew; Cullen Skink, a thick, rich soup of smoked Finnan Haddie or smoked haddock, onion, and potato;  and Potted Hough, a very unhealthy – and addictive – version of pate, as the jive-talking barman with the pirate’s patch spins a yarn as thick as the Skink.  Now you’re ready to roll out for the night

One of the lasting glories of the Victorian architects are the grand, glass-roofed train stations that defined an age of industrialization and Empire.  Glasgow central station is no exception. Yet underneath that crystal palace lies The Arches, one of the liveliest subterranean attractions in the UK. The cavernous underground railway vaults seem to stretch on forever in various states of conversion and disrepair, simultaneously hosting a diverse range of cultural activity and breaking down entrenched notions of what an arts venue can be.

The Arches

The cross fertilization between clubbing culture, visual art, live music and theater is electric; conceivably you could go from one room to another into the wee hours.  And why not? A fizzy can of orange Irn Bru will cure what ails you come the morning.

The laid back confidence of Glasgow and its citizens is as addictive as its effortless cool.  Loitering here seems to be a national pastime and the simple act of hanging out is one of the great pleasures of the city:  in the streets, at bars, pubs and restaurants, through the parks and museums.  Sure, there is still a bit of rough about, an edgy air of occasional uncertainty. But straddling the best of both worlds, Glasgow is a cosmopolitan city and unhomogenized small town at once: there is room for individuals and room for innovation.  It’s left more than one New Yorker seethingly jealous.

It’s difficult to mention Charles Rennie Mackintosh and not go into further detail.  Though virtually unknown outside his native Scotland – and pretty well ignored there, too, during his lifetime – his influence had a massive impact on Josef Hoffman and the Viennese school of designers at the time; an influence which was eventually to be felt around the world after his death.  A grand testament to the lasting aesthetic principals of Mackintosh can be found at the House for an Art Lover, outside Glasgow in Bellahouston Park.  An unrealized commission during his lifetime, it was constructed over a hundred years after the fact from his original plans.

Here are a few examples of Mackintosh’s astonishing body of work, beginning with one of my favorite quotes of all time.

Most Americans have an image of Scotland that falls somewhere between Trainspotting and The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie – salted with a tartan-clad dash of Brigadoon for good measure.  It’s a highland fling flung with junkies, fascist sympathizers, bumpkins, and the battle cry of Braveheart.  And it doesn’t help matters that for all of their bravado, the Scots lack a strong national identity – though what assimilated arm of the British Empire doesn’t?  They are a wily, difficult people to pin down, those Scots: at times surprising, often baffling, the resistance to being pigeonholed makes them all the more mysterious and magnetic.

Nowhere is the fictional image of Scotland shattered more quickly than in Glasgow. Once the Empire’s “second city,” it is a post-industrial town hell-bent on reinventing itself through a renaissance of style and architectural regeneration. It is a statement the city makes with surprising aplomb:  old and new roost side-by-side and even inside out. The futuristic Glasgow Science Center and its pod-shaped IMAX Theater stand like modern beacons against the Victorian backdrop of the waterside quays of the River Clyde as you enter the city center.  Nearby is the Armadillo, the affectionately named convention center that looks strangely familiar, like a riff on the famous Sydney Opera House.

The axis of Sauchiehall and Buchanan Streets marks the city’s pedestrian center.  A scattering of up-market shops, cafes and galleries reinforce the city’s rebirth as the UK’s hippest urban center.  The Willow Tea Rooms make for a civilized, if old fashioned, chance to take a load off with scones, clotted cream, and a proper pot of tea in one of Charles Rennie Mackintosh’s inspired Art Nouveau interiors.  Rarely has an architect been so identified with a city as Mackintosh is with Glasgow.   A hundred years on and his Glasgow School of Art remains not only a working art school but also a masterpiece of organic 20th century design.   From the door signs to the lighting fixtures to the furniture, Mackintosh designed a building down to the smallest of details, creating a unified whole that is well worth the necessary hassle of arranging a tour in advance. (How Mackintosh and Frank Lloyd Wright arrived sui generis with similar sensibilities at virtually the same point in time remains a tantalizing mystery of the universe.) Mackintosh’s home has been preserved as well, as part of the Hunterian Gallery in the university quarter. An interesting study in the practical aesthetics of his sensibility, it’s also a remarkable exercise in conservation.

Straying off Buchanan Street takes you into the old Merchant City, where it’s now impossible to walk about without passing one trendy bar or another – and the hen & stag parties the descend on the weekends.  Wandering its narrow streets and bespoke shops is an afternoon in itself – as is gazing at the detailed Victorian brickwork. (Think NYC’s meatpacking district before the bus tours came and wrecked it all.)  Here you’ll also find the Corinthian, Glasgow’s finest grade-A listed building.  Appropriately enough it houses a piano bar, a cocktail bar and the most inviting lounge in the city. The popular (and much maligned) Gallery of Modern Art on Royal Exchange Square has a rather controversial collection of populist fare inside.  But it’s the simple pointed gesture outside the entrance that seems to encapsulate the Glaswegian view of life: a classical statue of Lord Nelson astride his horse, only slightly enhanced by the traffic cone atop his head.

Glasgow’s population is a respectable 650,000, yet it’s the largest retail center (outside of London) in the UK.  The rumors that Versace opened his boutique in Glasgow before London are true. There are some 800 bars, pubs and nightclubs, over 20 museums (largely free), and more than 200 cultural organizations.  A scan through the weekly paper, The List, boggles the mind with all that is on offer at any given moment.  It’s enough to make many an urban dweller wildly jealous. The saying may go “It’s a nice place to visit…,” but Glasgow has its share of expats who’ve never bothered to return home.