Collections of pulp n' porn covers are a dime a dozen, but this is special. Obscure, hardcore, and hilarious. Collections of pulp n' porn covers are a dime a dozen, but this is special. Obscure, hardcore, and hilarious. ...more
God, I live for books like this. The little bits picked up skimming were fascinating and provoking: the medieval towers and moats that were retained aGod, I live for books like this. The little bits picked up skimming were fascinating and provoking: the medieval towers and moats that were retained alongside italianate renovations in order to preserve "the silhouette of traditional seignorial power"; the discussion of cabinets and boudoirs, from which Girouard expands into a notice of the "gentle eroticism" signified by the female toilette in 18th century French literature and painting. ...more
To Edmund Wilson this was a masterpiece, to Cyril Connolly one of the most boring books he’d ever read. I agree with both of them. The House of Life (To Edmund Wilson this was a masterpiece, to Cyril Connolly one of the most boring books he’d ever read. I agree with both of them. The House of Life (1958) can be fascinating, unclassifiably mixed as it is of history, aesthetics, and a sprightly memoir; it can also be very, very dull. Describing the paintings, objects and furniture in his domestic museum - “intimate receptacles of the whole flavour of the nineteenth century” - Praz at times mounts to brilliant vistas of the periods and milieux that produced his treasured pieces; at other times he burrows into the pedantic minutae of price and provenance and condition. I couldn’t anticipate which I would get, page to page. As a whole, though, one of the “singular books,” as Calasso would say, and so quite worth my time.
With Lucia I visited the little Hove museum, which she found to be like ‘Daddy’s house’ because there too there was Empire furniture and musical instruments that nobody played.
Plenty of online stores carry prints of these posters, but they're all so good that I remain unable to decide on just one (or even two) for my walls. Plenty of online stores carry prints of these posters, but they're all so good that I remain unable to decide on just one (or even two) for my walls. They will stay a book then. ...more
Though not as slick or well-known as the Taschen and Konemann series on interior design in various world cities, the Tectum "Lofts of..." series usualThough not as slick or well-known as the Taschen and Konemann series on interior design in various world cities, the Tectum "Lofts of..." series usually features funkier examples. Fewer bigwig designers, fewer gallery-homes, and more regular folks just wingin' it with some inspired bricolage. All the titles are good, but the Antwerp one is special. ...more
Man is she boring! This book confirmed my suspicions. But I'm somewhat admiring of the way she's been able to personally brand a style so banal and anMan is she boring! This book confirmed my suspicions. But I'm somewhat admiring of the way she's been able to personally brand a style so banal and anonymous, and of the obsessive, exaggerated degree to which she's mastered this very popular look--vaguely Japanese, but partaking of none of the rigorous virtues of really artful austerity. From my old job I got the sense that many people associate wealth with interiors that have an impeccable, hotel-ish impersonality. They want to get as far as possible from the "chaos and kitchen fumes of a middle-class dwelling," as Mandelstam would say. I remember how some clients had the designers pick out everything--even down to personal things like the art on the walls, the books the shelves and on the coffee table--and the finished homes were serene and cool, but totally bare of any personal or familial idiosyncracy. For all its suave perfection, the Hoppen style is ultimately gaudy--it's an arriviste declaration ("money has cleansed us"). ...more
'With the invention of a teachable discipline called architecture, the old process of making form was adulterated and its chances of success destroyed'With the invention of a teachable discipline called architecture, the old process of making form was adulterated and its chances of success destroyed.'
Such a potent work. His boldest argument is that the transformation of craftsmen, impersonal agents of traditional form, into self-conscious artist-architects with pretensions to individuality and original form-making is a sure sign of cultural decadence. He says that a culture's exaltation of the artist as solitary genius is paradoxically the event which signals that the culture doesn't really feel an organic need for art anymore. I wholeheartedly agree, and see a parallel in poetry, music and painting: all the Promethean bullshit of Romanticism, that mythos of outsiderdom, is just a symptom of a larger rejection of art; a truly healthy culture organically integrates art into its common life--in a healthy culture the stock role of the artist isn't the Disaffected Outsider, he or she is a mage, minstrel, storyteller, builder or decorator, someone vitally important to the actions that structure life. The fact that we have a detachable category of recreation called "The Arts" means that those arts really aren't necessary to our lives.
Hulme's old point that the difference between "Classicism" and "Romanticism" is a belief in original sin remains pithy, salient. Our belief in the degree of human frailty determines our belief in the degree of creative capacity. Alexander starkly states that the average designer, on their own, is simply not up to the momentous project our culture, infected with a belief in the artist-as-solitary genius, demands: that of inventing new forms, of creating ex nihilo. Only the accumulated momentum of tradition can help creators in any field cope with the complex problem of creating form; we have to accept that "creation" usually means "inspired variation." I feel the same way about free verse in poetry: it is ironic that an absence of metrical rules makes people more confident that they too can write poetry, because it shouldn't. The requirement that the metrical structure of each poem be wholly new is a forbidding one. The pure ideal represented by free verse is perhaps beyond most of us; as one of Debussy's conservatory instructors told him: "You're breaking all the rules, so you'd better have enough genius to invent your own." ...more
When you work a stint as a librarian at an interior design firm, you tend to read plenty of books like this. And drink a lot--the office manager beganWhen you work a stint as a librarian at an interior design firm, you tend to read plenty of books like this. And drink a lot--the office manager began her tinkling rounds with the drinks cart at 4:00pm every day. The pictures of Giorgio Armani's Milan flat are out of this world. We tend to think of Art Deco as something fluid, curvy, and sensuous--but Armani's personal imagining of the style is hard and burnished, severe and forbidding, with a machine-age austerity. So elegant as to be unliveable, as Bodoni is so elegant as to be unreadable. The Milanese Armani flat is a good contrast to the Versace villa (one of who knows how many) featured in this book, the usual gaudy-colored Southern Italian saturnalia. ...more
The best of this series. The New York, London and especially the Berlin volumes feature specimens of impeccable but at times rather banal cool, but inThe best of this series. The New York, London and especially the Berlin volumes feature specimens of impeccable but at times rather banal cool, but in this one there are some real hardcore eccentrics among the artists, designers and other "creative types" chosen to exhibit their homes. There's nothing ordinary in this book. The apartment shared by Pierre & Gilles--which doubles as a museum of their stupendous collection of Elvis and Michael Jackson memorabilia--is worth it alone. ...more
Loading...
