Nifty Shades Of Gray

  I'm getting older.  And by older I mean that I am no longer 20, although in my mind I still feel that way.  I can't go clubbing four nights a week anymore and, honestly, I would not want to because there is far more life to discover than that.  Well, sometimes. Laughter and my nieces and nephews provide much more fun.  Travel, dinners, food, art, fashion, wine, books, swimming, cycling, yoga, coffee houses, and photography and writing occupy my time.  That and political discussions with people who differ from me which is easy because I differ from everyone.  I am quite opinionated.  I can't kiss ass and am very intolerant of people who do.

  I love documentaries, reading odd books and listening to music that may never be popular with anyone.  It's the curse of the creatively-driven.  I have never identified with the competition of people my age.

  I think that food is one of the top things that defines a lifestyle.  We are what what we eat.  And then, fashion.  Whether or not you like it, or know it, how you look is what you are.  I work with lots of brilliant people who do not care about how they look, most of the time.  I like them.  They talk about ideas, not news or gossip. Others, well, they conform.

  For the past two months I've been working with a designer and coach who is young but wise beyond his years.  It's not about a brand, or selling anything or competing but a discovery: a look for the rest of my life.  A very welcome change.  I LOVE getting older, despite all the aches and pains.  And I am quite ready to be weird and older and wonderful and wise and laughing all the way.

The Purple Pen

The Purple Pen begins a new pictorial series of life in and around Boston, starting in Harvard Square. We'll note the people and stories that we capture on the cam.  Everybody has a story.  Everyone is interesting.  Tell us your story.  Show us your day.  We'll make it interesting and beautiful.

Walking The Red Carpet

I've walked enough red carpets in my life to know that it's often the thread that you follow that can be even more surprising.  The smallest of ideas can take you to wonderful places.  Here's a great video to start your day: weird, wonderful and happy.

Lookin Good

When I played baseball in High School I took a line drive to the face one day that left me with mashed skin and a permanent scar on my left cheekbone.  At the time I didn't mind because every cheerleader that I ever wanted was fawning over my bloodied face.  When I went to BC the girls thought it was a cute dimple.  My scar. Honestly, I never really thought about it.

After I became a food journalist and wrote a novel there were some people who wanted to take pictures with me.  Lots of people.  I went on photo shoots and television shows where they wanted to put makeup on me.  I liked the idea of looking good.

Like this.

But, I always said:  "Don't cover up the scar.  It's part of me.  Let people see it.  Call it my warrior symbol.  I've been beaten up and it what makes William be William."  Don't get me wrong, I like the fussing over me with the wardrobe and the shoes and the lighting and the hair and all of that but if I can't show my flaws then I'm not me. My incorrections and my bad moments are probably my greatest ideas and contributions, made up for with laughter and wisdom and the endless hours with notebooks capturing story after story.

So ... I became McAdoo

I tried to be everything to everyone but it was always a struggle to contain my crazy creativity, my endless ideas of things.  I was seeing things they didn't see and going places they didn't go and daydreaming and looking at life from other angles, staring at paintings and getting up at daybreak for runs and walks and sunrises.  I wanted to be Bruce Weber, Dali, some unknown auteur filmmaker struggling in France.  I wanted to be that guy steering the gondola in Venice.  A spy.  A hero.  A recluse. An artist. 

So, after running everywhere and chasing everything I decided that there was no other person who thinks like me, looks like me, dreams like me, snores and eats and stomps when mad like me.

I listened and talked and built my house and met as many people as I could and collected the things that fascinated me and took my mind.

I knew and ate and enjoyed these things with so much laughter and fun and ideas.  

All of the people, all of the photographs, all of the fashion and and excitement, all of that glorious food. 

In my retro dreams I was imagining something.  Boxes of cuff links set with stones.  More formality than this world can understand.

Then, I decided that I did not care that no one else is as crazy or wise or unique as me.  And I stopped trying or searching because I found something.

I was not Dali.  I was not Picasso.  I was McAdoo.  

So, I did what was the only thing to do:  I became McAdoo.

I became a writer of ideas, a photographer of dreams and a boy inside a man who still carries a knapsack filled with notebooks and pens and who runs in the rain and eats everything.

I became McAdoo. That's all I could be.

Creativity

"Creative people are crazy.  It's part of the job." -  William McAdoo

"I looked at Picasso.  I read Joyce.  I traveled the world.  Built a house. I met everyone. I danced to New Politics, wrote a book .  I decided to become McAdoo.

On Styling Photos

I'm a 1940s writer who's been forced to live in a 2014 world.