I have a thing for scalloped edges, elaborate headboards, and (like everyone on Instagram) decorative tiles. This room brings all three together in a beautiful way. I like the contrast of fancy florals with the bold, geometric tile, and the worn green doors, and fading plaster add charm and character. I’m guessing we’re in Cuba. I’ve got no idea, but why not?
I admire a quilter’s patience, persistence — hours and hours poured into one piece of work. I came across this beautiful Gee’s Bend quilt and I thought immediately of my mother-in-law, Frida and my neighbour, Alison, who both bring such talent and passion to what they make. I went on to read that in the 1920s, the women of Gee’s Bend, Alabama, would sew quilts for their families from remnant fabrics. The designs were so original that in the 1960s, Civil Rights leaders decided to help the women sell their quilts by mail order for $25 a piece. Today, their collections are dispayed in major museums all over the U.S. with individual quilts selling for tens of thousands of dollars.
When I was a little girl, my parents had a cook named Christa. Her repertoire wasn’t varied, but she cooked what she cooked –– shepherd’s pie, dover sole, roast lamb –– very well. Christa was Danish and she wore her hair in a tight low ponytail. She always carried chapstick in the pocket of her uniform. I liked Christa, and although she didn’t smile much, she showed her love through food. For our birthdays, she used to make my brother and I an extravaganza of a cake. One year, he got a football pitch while I got a huge fairy princess castle slathered in candyfloss pink icing. We still have photos of the cakes, and our little faces, wired with sugar and glee.
What a perfect little room, and perfect colour, too. The fabric is neither pink, nor red. Let’s call it pomegranate. And don’t you love the black scribbles along the canopy? This is a place where one comes to dream up ideas –– big, hilarious, weird ideas. Did I mention the leopard print ceiling? And the wallpaper? What a fearless combination of print and pattern.
I love this 1952 photograph by Cecil Beaton of Luis Miguel Dominguín. It’s such a beautiful portrait. Of course, my first thought when I saw the image, was that this would have been my dream New Year’s Eve outfit! I doubt I’d have pulled it off with anywhere near his aplomb, but what fun to go to a party dressed as a matador.
The petals of certain flowers –– poppies, anemones –– can be so translucent that they look to be made of tissue. Marianne Eriksen Scott-Hansen’s flowers really are made from tissue paper, and they’re utterly divine. It’s a fantastical world she lives in, filled with giant peonies, dahlias and roses. I can’t begin to imagine the hours spent cutting through sheets and sheets of delicate paper.
It’s at this time of year, that I like to write lots of cards. Only my handwriting has become so hard to read that I think people take longer to read them than I did to write them. Worse yet, I worry some people may even toss them aside because the writing proves too illegible! I’ve thought about moving over to email, but it feels so impersonal. Perhaps it’s time for me to take a handwriting workshop, you know, just to clean up my loops and tails.
I really like Jude Jelfs’ ceramic jugs, all slab-built with vitreous slips and scraffito markings. The British artist uses both earthenware and porcelain, and she also works in bronze. Her work conjures up the paintings of Alekos Fassianos for me, a greek artist I grew up with. I find her pieces really striking.
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