So, um, I kind of *love* these swan sunglasses in this “Wait for the Summer” photo shoot by photographer Fiona Quinn and styled by Courtney Sanders. The sunglasses are labeled first as the stylist’s own, and then by “Look Sharp”, a label which I haven’t been able to find out much about during my brief (but somewhat talented) google search frenzy. I managed to find some other novelty type swan sunglasses but none quite as fabulous as these. I just love how these have both black and white… you know very Black Swan-y. (Natalie Portman should totally own a pair, am I right?). I love how they manage to be both sunglasses but almost like a headpiece, like an almost but not quite tiara. And the model rocks them oh-so effortlessly.
And now a poem (from which I got this post’s name)((which a friend sent to me after seeing the aforementioned swan/ballet movie))(((and it seems nicely applicable to this post))):
Verdi and Postmodernism
She walks in beauty like the swans
that on a summer day do swarm
& crawls as deftly as a spoon
& spills & sprawls & booms.
These moments make a monument
then fall upon a broken calm
they fly into more quenchless rages
than Louis Quatorze or Napoleon.
If I could make one wish I might
overturn a state, destroy a kite
but with no wishes still I gripe
complaint’s a Godly-given right.
– Charles Bernstein
I wander around the web a lot. Things catch my eye. Sometimes I post them here and/or there, sometimes they collect in my browser tabs. When that happens, sometimes a few of them linger in my mind and start to form a little story in my head. Set a little scene. And today I swooned over these, and imagined a moment where they would all exist harmoniously in the same place.
I’d be lounging around in this gorgeous dress, the “Elizabeth”, by talented textile artist Jemma Sykes. It’s deliciously decadent in style, lovely in a charming peachy-pink hue, and, though fancy, manages to look like it’d be kind of cozy at the very same time.
Then there’s this swell sea urchin installation by Patricia Brown which I came across on Lost Bird Found this afternoon. A lovely array of colors, visual and actual texture, and the organic hint of sea urchiness. I adore that random pop of blue. They’d be pretty all together on the wall. Or they’d be fun as a bunch of pillow-y, seat-y poofs strewn about the room. Oh, that’d be quite colorful and cozy.
This amazzzzing “pixel” rug from Tufted of the Portuguese Piado Group set to be shown at the Zona Tortona during this year’s Milan Design Week and sneak-peaked on Design-Milk literally make me squeek in audible delight. See this is where this whole started. I was going to just post it to my Facebook blog page, because this is gorgeous and I really want it, but the picture wouldn’t thumbsize itself correctly, and linking to this would be worthless without the pic. So, I left it in my browser, and I spotted everything else and then thought that they’d all go kind of swell-ly together. At least in my head.
Anyway. This rug gets love for evoking pixels and paint swatches at the same time. And the sweeping array of color, whoosh, that just fills me with happiness.
Yes, this scene would call for a nice glass of scotch and require some vintage flapper-age jazzy music winding around the room from a crackly old record player. A few good friends sprawled out on the rug and on those lovely urchins talking about anything and everything.
Oh, it’d be divine.
That’s a mighty fine looking bench there. This looks like the perfect spot to curl up for a while and read, or think, or stare out into the beautiful peacefulness and just be. Of course, it looks like there’s some room behind that bench for some running around and frolicking. And that tree looks lovely for climbing and perching in for a while…
i remember when i was a child
and used to climb trees
we had a little wooden plank
nook and we’d nestle in there
and talk-a talk talk
of small childish dreams
back when everything was
(they were wishes on leaves)
I think. I think a lot. I like to look at things from alllll different angles, pick it apart, put it back together… you get the drill. (For some reason, the phrase mental origami popped into my head. And I like it. But. I’d have to think about it to see if it really, truly, adequately reflects this thinking process). A lot of times the thought put into things is beneficial, other times overwhelming and time-consuming and you find yourself in a labyrinth of possibilities, with no clear way out. Sometimes, you just need to hear a good old fashioned shut up and get on with it already (!) to get you back on track. These lovelies by Supermarket do it in such a nice, attractive way they manage to fill me with glee and shame me at the same time. And that, my friends, takes talent.
(I was going to say that I really need these on my studio wall so that I can look up at them the next time I am agonizing over something (that only seems) mundane (to the untrained eye!!) and receive a nice refreshing perspective. And then I realized that I actually should probably get these sayings tattooed onto my left arm, or maybe wrist. To remind me. Constantly. ((The other wrist would say, “You’re a total rockstar.”))
“If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude. Don’t complain.” – Maya Angelou
I’m liking this brooch by Tatty Devine for the Tate museum store.
It reminds me of a short story I wrote in my senior year of high school called Lint about a young girl, Lynn, who’s feeling lost and alone and useless since her father passed away. She spends her time watching the world pass by from the anonymity of her apartment window feeling like a speck of lint floating aimlessly in the air, bothersome to anyplace she lands. After a series of events she finds her self face to face with a young woman who she’s noticed whilst sitting at her window. The woman, Arianna, who Lynn finds out is an artist living in a colorfully vibrant home, shows the young girl kindness and friendship. Arianna eventually takes Lynn back to her studio where upon she reveals that she’s been painting the young girl, sitting at her window up above. Lynn is incredibly touched seeing herself in this new light, and though the painting is unfinished she can see the beauty it could become. She starts to see herself that way, too – as an unfinished painting – and doesn’t feel quite so lost.
Perhaps the story is a little cheesy (?), if so, forgive my 17 year old self; but it’s around the time I started thinking of the “self” as a possibly a piece of art, and subsequently life (as the top of my page states). I think it’s nice to think of it that way. Everything just a piece of the puzzle, a swab of paint on the canvas. Individually, they recall the hurt and the joy, the peaceful moments and the tense, the love and the loss…but together, when you step back and look at them all splattered there, it has this sort of beauty, the pieces of your life. When you step back from being “inside” the picture, the moment, you can see this better… see that even a tough time is just a fraction of the whole, that sometimes you can build something wonderful atop that toughness, the chaos. And it allows you to feel a little calm from within the storm.
And that’s why I like this brooch. Because we should always think of ourselves as works in progress. There’s always someplace to go.
What would your rug say if it could speak?:
These positive/negative rugs designed by Björn Dahlström for Kasthall bring to mind the famous Oscar Wilde quote; “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” Granted, you can’t always help how you feel. Regardless, these are really interesting, and it would be a fun challenge to design the room around them. I would love if they came in other colors…. the white and navy is nice, but liable to get lots of footprints on them – though for mr. negative rug it would sort of reinforce the theme.