My First Disco Song

I've loved disco music since I was a teenager, growing up in the right city but in the wrong decade. It was easy to find cheap disco records in New York City, if you knew how to hunt. I started collecting records when I was about 14, and began taking it more seriously four years later. 

Fast forward to a recent unexpected encounter in Paris: I met the composer Louis Fontaine in a cafe in Le Marais. Sharing a fondness for 1970s music, films, and hairstyles, we struck up a kind of friendship. He asked if I wanted to write lyrics for him. We started with a soft disco track. He had heard singer/ music supervisor Alix Brown performing in bands (including La Femme and Daisy Glaze), and wanted her to sing the song. I wrote a late night-tale about a strange love triangle I nearly interfaced with while living in Madrid. We recorded the song and heard from labels a few months later. On February 14th, 2025 the cult Italian record label Four Flies released our song 'Tormento' on vinyl. You can listen to it here.

'Tormento' appeared in the press and soon featured on radio shows including KCRW's Morning Becomes Eclectic. Shindig, the English magazine wrote "It's a beguiling song, the music combining a lilting keyboard arpeggio, sinewy bass and insistent rhythm with vocals that are at once intimate yet ethereal...Fontaine found his wordsmith when he met author and artist Margo Fortuny in a Paris bar." (Clive Webb.) A fun fact: Chuck D from Public Enemy loves Shindig and has been collecting issues for years! 

Italy's IndieVision wrote "This is a piece that owes a lot to the music of Serge Gainsbourg and the soundtracks of François de Roubaix, that is to say to those electronic sounds, precursors of the French touch à la Cerrone and Daft Punk, which pairs perfectly with sensually captivating and mischievous lyrics... From the union of these three artistic minds, all linked to the Italian cinematic aesthetics of the 70s, 'Tormento' was born, a song where Brown's dazzling and sensual voice marries perfectly with Fontaine's sexy late-'70s sound, dominated by analog synthesizers, thus giving life to Fortuny's story, a nocturnal tale of seduction, transgression and sensual tension where one does not listen to one's own rationality, one's own fears, but one lets oneself be involved and dragged into the inebriating vortex of the forbidden." (Edoardo Previti) 

Mexico's DNA magazine wrote "Vintage synthesizers, powerful bass, and rhythmic percussion dominate the instrumental of the piece, while Alix's intoned lyrics are inhabited by Odyssean and fantastical feelings, contemplated by desire. In a kind of erotic filmscape, the texture of the voice envelops the love of Alix, Louis, and Margo Fortuny, the lyricist and writer of the piece, for the seventies and the musical aesthetic that leaves its mark." (Sofo Tequiero) 

Flaunt magazine wrote "Tormento sweeps you away into the gleamy, glowy summer nights of the late sixties and seventies from the very first chord... Brown contributed vocals from L.A. to music composed by instrumentalist and soundtrack maestro Louis Fontaine with lyrics by Margo Fortuny. The shimmering recording captures Brown's Jane Birkin breathiness as she mouths a teasing mix of French and English couplets that dissect a forbidden desire...alongside references to Emile Zola and 'Twister'." (Hannah Bhuiya.) 

Use Your Illusions: My First Exhibition in Madrid

This year has been hell at times and yet there came a point where I woke up and started acting with urgency. Between the global pandemic, two members of my family in life-or-death situations (unrelated to Covid), and the intense loneliness of spending so much time alone, I thought 2020 might break me. But at the end of summer, suddenly I took action. I wanted something good to happen! I created an artist book and distributed it to numerous bookstores and art museums, where it was received well. I started drawing and painting like my life depended on it. I was invited to participate in two important exhibitions (details are in the previous two posts.) And in December 2020, I had my first dual exhibition in Madrid. 

'Use Your Illusions' examined the purpose of illusions and memories, nostalgia and desire, questioning whether these trips into imagination are positive or detrimental to one's present reality. The exhibition featured both my figurative paintings and the surreal analog collages of the Spanish artist Ella Jazz. We both lived in California at the same time, before meeting in Madrid, and this experience greatly influenced our artwork and worldview.

'Use Your Illusions,' Exhibition View, 2020

'Walking Up To Your Street', Margo Fortuny

Acrylic on canvas,  26 x 18 cm

'The Fighter', Margo Fortuny, 2020

Acrylic on canvas, 80 x 60 cm

Beto looking at 'Love Me When I'm Gone' by M. Fortuny. 

Photo: Larry Balboa

'The Trip', Margo Fortuny, 2020

Acrylic on canvas, 50 x 65 cm

'The Lover', Margo Fortuny, 2020

Acrylic on canvas, 70 x140 cm

'Use Your Illusions' Madrid 2020. Photo: Larry Balboa

Here I am outside 'Use Your Illusions', at Pavilion. 

December 2020. Photo: Diego & The Blue Sea

For more images of my artwork check out my Instagram @margofortuny .

Let's Swing by San Francisco

Heading to Twin Peaks.

I couldn’t wait to get on the road again. When my friend John called we decided to go on a spontaneous trip up to San Francisco. Would the city have the same magic I remembered? I feared San Francisco had been taken over by people who find their own reality so lifeless they’ve taken to wearing computers wrapped around their heads, disguised as spectacles…luckily, this was not the case. Not yet.

We left that night, which happened to be dark and stormy. The trouble started in Malibu. Hours of rain, flash flooding, and the endless line for In n’ Out Burger suggested the apocalypse was near. Then I remembered this is what happens when the sun doesn’t shine in Southern California. Fries in our laps, we floated down the highway. Captain Searcy steered through the deluge, past sleepy motorists, half-lit motels, the hours dropping away, until those famous streets unraveled before us. Blue skies unfurled in the Mission.

Jeff, an East-Coast musician who had journeyed west years ago, was standing on his porch. He wore a sweatshirt from the 80s with tight, faded blue jeans. Tall, smiling, happily familiar, he led us inside. We left our suitcases in a cozy room filled with instruments.

Jeff in the sunshine.

After lunch at the oldest soda fountain in San Francisco, Jeff showed us around his neighborhood. We walked up Valencia Street, stopping into most of the vintage shops. The best one was called Wallflower, where I bought a foxy baby-blue 1970s A-line coat. We had dinner, Eton Mess-flavor ice cream, and went home. Lights on, shoes off, Jeff gave in to sleep.

John, probably deciding what to wear tonight.

John and I prepared for the evening ahead, encouraged by glasses of Margoritas. John, ever straight and not feeling sartorially adventurous, disagreed with my suggestion of pairing his narrow Alexander McQueen suit with his high-top converse, and my 1960s polka-dot kerchief. I wore a long, backless 70s dress. Hands filled with brushes, powders, and clips, like some glamorous octopus, I teased my hair up as if my last name was Bardot.

Our taxi careened over to Rickshaw Stop, where The Chocolate Watchband was playing. My favorite part of the concert was the old man in the Greek fisherman cap who made all the psychedelic visuals by hand. He arranged his colorful sorcery with glass screens, plastic wrap, pipettes of vivid liquid, and a projector. The crowd was young, dancing, enchanted. Willowy girls smiled at handsome faces. Long hair brushed against long hair. They were all clad in bright patterned clothes made before they were born. It was exciting to see my new friends I had met in Austin and older friends made on previous trips. 

Afterwards, six of us squeezed into a little car. It was all hands and jostling knees in the backseat, soundtracked by Jacques Dutronc. Je suis content. Everyone tumbled out to a friendly party in one of those classic San Francisco houses with big bay windows. Cold beers appeared. Two pretty blonds melted into a large cushion shaped like a deflated brioche. Lanky pairs kissed in the corridors. We danced all night.

The next day Jeff, John, and Justin, (a favorite neighbor from my Echo Park days, now a local) drove up to Twin Peaks. The city stretched out all around us, framed by the Pacific Ocean. Afterwards, we strolled around Golden Gate Park and the Palace of Fine Arts. 

A few burritos later it was time to go. I said my goodbyes and we drove across the famous bridge, listening to the Beach Boys. Next stop, Los Angeles.

The Palace of Fine Arts.

Walking around The Palace of Fine Arts...

MARGO’S QUICK GUIDE TO SAN FRANCISCO

TO DO:

Get to the De Young Museum early – the temporary exhibitions tend to sell out.  50 Hagiwara Tea Garden Dr, 94118.

Get lost in the newly-revamped SFMOMA. This massive modern art museum has an excellent Gerhard Richter collection and the kind of gift store you can pick up all your birthday/ Christmas presents in one swoop. 151 3rd St, 94103.

Admire the wonderful view from Twin Peaks. (No relation to David Lynch’s world of cherry pie and murder.) 501 Twin Peaks Blvd, 94114.

Have a lazy wander around the Palace of Fine Arts. It’s a picturesque building from 1915, (not a museum) bordered by a pond where swans loll about. 3301 Lyon St, 94123.

Check out the vintage shops on Valencia Street in the Mission. I loved ‘Wallflower’ at 1176 Valencia.

If you have time, explore Oakland. (When the tech boom led to the current over-priced housing market, that’s where most of the cool people without rent-controlled apartments moved.)

TO EAT:

Have brunch at the charming Saint Francis Soda Fountain, funded in 1918. Order the nebulous potato thing with eggs and cornbread, trust me. 2801 24th St, San Francisco, CA 94110.

Pig & Pie, also in the Mission, also has delicious bunch/ lunch. Not for vegans though there is a great baked egg dish if you’re vegetarian. 2962 24th St, San Francisco, CA 94110.

Ice cream fans, check out the imaginative flavors at Humphry Slocombe in the Mission. ‘Secret Breakfast’ is a big hit. 2790A Harrison St.

This city is also famous for burritos so ask around. Actually there are hundreds of fantastic restaurants there – feel free to comment.

I confess, I took this one on my previous trip to San Francisco.

Postcards from Hearst Castle

While wandering along Morro Bay I found these old postcards from Hearst Castle, California. Someone should invent glasses that make everything look this colorful...

Get inside the technicolor - just click to enlarge.

2 days on the road: radio, rocks, otters, one jacuzzi & a castle

Dominic picked me up in his white Buick. After a car swap, we were racing up the central California coast, listening to 80s R & B. (My friend Dominic is an excellent driver, gliding through time and space effortlessly. He’s the best kind of person to have on a road trip: full of stories, swift behind the wheel, and he’s got great taste in music. Naturally, he’s from Detroit.) He told me about his wild teenage follies in Mexico. I imagined him on the side of the road, wearing jean-shorts in the baking sun with his hands in the air, hoping the cops wouldn’t find what was in the trunk…

First stop: coffee in Pismo Beach. There was a massive sign for a palm-reader. A few children walked down the street barefoot.

Back in the car, we drove up to Morro Bay. Then it was before us: Morro Rock, sacred Native American land, ancient volcanic mass, and the home of peregrine falcons. This rock has been perching there for over 20 million years.

Dominic and I walked around the town, popping into the thrift stores and picking up snacks at the health food store. We dropped our bags off at the motel and set out to find Libertine, a pub with French fries like no other.

We entered the joint. The Beach Boys were playing and there was that late afternoon sunlight slanting all over the place. There was an empty table by the big windows that overlooked the water and Morro Rock.

Unfortunately the menu was uninspiring. Where were these mythical French fries? Hunger roused us from our seats and pushed us towards the door. As we drifted out Dominic spotted a small French fry menu. Ah ha – it exists! Table reclaimed, we found a stoner’s dream on a slip of paper. He ordered a beer and crazy fries tossed in herbs and served with spicy ketchup, beer-cheese sauce, and ranch. I picked “Southern Tots”: tater tots tossed in Buffalo spice, blue cheese crumbles, and melted cheddar, served with blue cheese ranch dressing on the side.  O America! I sipped tart cherry beer out of a little goblet while watching seals and otters play in the water.

America loves sauce.

Then we wandered along the bay, bought old postcards, and explored the main street. Dominic greeted everyone we passed. A scruffy white-haired biker chatted to us. He told us we could die any day and to enjoy life.

"Let's make Amaretto Sours!" I suggested. Swinging by the liquor store, we bought lemons, Amaretto, and soda water. A few minutes later we were back at the motel. I squeezed the lemons into plastic cups and stirred the cocktails with a straw. We sat on chairs and watched the sun set over the bay. It had a Mediterranean flavor in the semi-darkness. We sipped on the view.

After a swim in the pool, and a dip in the hot tub, we drove to Madonna Inn for drinks. It was my first time in the fabled inn that taste forgot. The bonkers semi-Baroque palace of kitsch was built around 1961. It's barely changed since then. It was as if Elvis and Liberace collaborated on a decorating scheme. What a thrill! I ordered a frosty pink strawberry drink, garnished with whipped cream, and sat in a pale pink leather armchair. Dominic ordered a Kir Royal and sat in a cherry-colored armchair.

Next we moved to the velvety magenta booths for dinner. Nearby, an old couple turned in each other’s arms on an empty dance floor. The band played covers with gusto, despite its diminutive audience. Dinner service was finished but they let us eat cake. We devoured delicious forkfuls of strawberry shortcake before exploring the dinosaur-sized fireplace, the café, and the saloon doors and giant gumball machines downstairs. Midnight led us back to the car. The road beckoned. 

Dominic took this picture of me looking rather Scooby Doo.

The following day we set out early, grabbing breakfast burritos on the way. I balanced mine over a newspaper in my lap, to cover my long, cream-color 1970s dress, as we sped down the highway. Beans, salsa, avocados… "Is it all over my face?” I sang, thinking of the Arthur Russell/ Loose Joints song.

When we arrived at Hearst Castle it was drizzling. The view reminded me of Southern Italy, and the architecture of Spain.

...Just pretending to be a ghost on the run.

Afterwards, we cruised down Highway 46, past rolling green hills and vineyards. The landscape changed to rows of trees, then the creeping of civilization began, gradually the foliage diminished, and Los Angeles grew nearer.

MARGO’S QUICK GUIDE TO MORRO BAY, CALIFORNIA

-Sleep at Breakers Inn Motel. The top floor rooms have the best view. There’s a modest pool and Jacuzzi. Double rooms are about $70-130 depending on the month.

-Eat crazy fries and have a craft beer at Libertine Pub. 801 Embarcadero. Open nightly until 11 pm or 12.

-Creature-watch along the bay.

-Drive 25 minutes to the legendary Madonna Inn. If you’re on a budget order a cocktail and dessert, or treat yourself to dinner. If you want to splash out book one of the wild themed bedrooms and stay overnight. You’ll definitely want to take a lot of pictures.

-Drive about 45 minutes to Hearst Castle. You have to book your tours online in advance. The 'Upstairs Suites' tour is the most interesting, followed by 'The Grand Rooms' tour. It’s usually open 8 am – 4 pm. Bring a coat; it gets chilly up there.

An Interview with the Wonderful Stanley Donwood

I met Stanley Donwood a few years ago in a basement in Soho. I heard it used to be a sex dungeon. By the time I was sitting across from him at a small wooden table it had turned into an art gallery. It was a pleasure chatting with him. Donwood is the kind of intuitive and intelligent man that you wish would appear on your left at every dinner party. Below is our interview, published in Exit magazine.

DRAWING HOOKS OUT OF YOUR THROAT

Stanley Donwood is an English artist and writer who is famous for designing Radiohead’s album artwork.  He has been collaborating with Thom Yorke for almost two decades. Donwood runs a studio called Slowly Downward Manufactory and he regularly exhibits his distinctive linocuts, paintings, and drawings in galleries around the world.  When not creating visual art, he writes dark but lively prose. EXIT met up with Donwood before his recent show at the Outsider’s Gallery in London to discuss the next Radiohead album, Thom Yorke, writing, and how temperature affects art.

The next Radiohead album is described as a newspaper album with tiny pieces of artwork held together with plastic. What was the inspiration behind the design?

I’ve always really loved newspapers, their tactile quality, that crappy paper. Newspapers are on their way out. I like dying media. They have a poignancy that I don’t find in things like Twitter. But maybe when Twitter is dying maybe the last Tweet will be the saddest thing we’ve heard for years. The last daily newspaper we can buy will be an impossibly sad thing. So I wanted to use the format of a newspaper because a newspaper doesn’t pretend to be anything other than of the moment. Because a newspaper is so ephemeral that if you leave it out in the sunlight it will decay and go yellow and if you leave it out long enough there will be nothing left. (For this album) I wanted to make the opposite of an archival quality coffee table book. No future.

What’s Thom Yorke like? Is he quite serious? I read that when you collaborate one of you does something then the other destroys it. Then you mend it back and forth.

It depends on the time of day. We get on very well. We haven’t had an argument yet in twenty years. We just destroy each other’s work and then keep working at it. Keep battling until you get to the point where the conflict is resolved and that’s the end.  We both like it after a lot of toing and froing.

Do you find English weather and temperament inspirational or limiting? 

I don’t know. It’s an interesting idea. My dad always said the reason why the industrial revolution happened in England was because it’s so miserable that people are just desperate for something to do… There’s something about the pessimism that when I’m not here after a while I miss it. I really like the Mediterranean and California, places where it’s sunny and nice. You can do nothing (there.) I love it. Essentially I’m extremely lazy. Something in the appalling weather in this country forces me to go do something… to keep warm, half the time.

I agree. I’m so much happier in warm weather, but it’s hard getting anything done.

Exactly! But what’s the point of getting anything done? It’s natural to not do anything.

I thought, I’ve got some books in my head; I should go somewhere cold.

If you want to be miserable, go to Scandanavia. (He jokes) I’ve got this weird fascination with Scandinavia, places like Sweden, Norway and Iceland. I’ve never been but I’d like to go. Just to see what would happen. I’m really interested in snow, whiteness, and the idea of where the land and the sky blurs. Like when you’re on a boat and there’s really bad weather and you can’t see what’s the sky and what’s the sea. I imagine it’s like that in Northern latitudes. Is that snow falling or settling? It correlates with your mind. You don’t know what’s up or what’s down, what’s far or what’s near.

Is bleakness required for good art?

No, though I see what you’re saying. I really like the Aboriginal art that is done in a very bright, sunny environment, and all those dots and dream paintings. That very colourful style of painting. You also get that with the French Impressionists when they were down in the Southern regions of France…and the Fauves, they were called Wild Beasts. I didn’t quite understand it until I went down to some of the towns where the Fauves were. They were doing this artwork that was very bright, messy and amazing.  I got there and after a few days I realized why you would make work like that because that’s how you feel. Bright, messy and amazing. There’s nothing wrong with that. I like that. Where I come from, artwork is more didactic.

To what extent does art history and political history inform what you’re doing now?

Probably a lot more than I think. Art history is something that I’m incredibly ignorant about.  I went to Art College but I was sufficiently arrogant to not go to any of the lectures about art history, little bastard. Since then I’ve started to learn about art history and political history. So I’ve read lots of books about it and it’s made me realize how little I actually know. The certainties I held when I was 20 are now uncertainties at the best, vagrancies at the worst.  Vague ideas.

There is a lot of writing on your website. Do you spend more time writing or doing visual art?

There is some kind of weird lock in my brain if I can’t work visually. I spend a lot of nights not being able to think then I start thinking I’m really shit, I should stop and get a job. That’s when I’m really low.  I can’t do any visual artwork and that’s when I write, usually quite late at night.  Then the other thing happens. I think what I’ve written is atrocious and despicable. Then I start doing artwork again. I can’t do the two at the same time. It’s impossible. It’s over a couple of weeks. One will fail and then one will emerge.  Writing particularly is like drawing fish hooks out of your throat. It’s horrible. But necessary. Because you can’t leave them there.

Interview by Margo Fortuny. Exit Magazine, Spring/Summer 2011

_____________________________________________________

Check out Donwood's new J.G. Ballard-inspired exhibition 'Dream Cargo' at the Lawrence Alkin Gallery in London through April 25th, 2015. 

Kindness of Women, Stanley Donwood, 2015

Faber & Faber have recently published several books by Stanley Donwood, which can be found here. 

http://www.slowlydownward.com/