Rescue Me!

If you are down in the doldrums and want to be rescued, my suggestion is to medicate yourself with a good dose of art and music.  I recently had the perfect sort of day...a morning visit to see an art exhibit of Federico Barocci bookended with an evening musical tribute to Fontella Bass...who could want for anything more?

Entombment of Christ, 1579-82

Federico Barocci

Oil on canvas 116 1/8" x 78 5/8"

Chiesa della Croce, Senigallia

And who is Federico Barocci and Fontella Bass, you may ask? Federico was a Renaissance artist famous in his own time, but rather forgotten otherwise. Fontella was a soul and gospel singer who had one big hit with the song "Rescue Me",  in 1965.  

Fontella Bass

July 3, 1940 -  December 26, 2012

R.I.P., Divine Diva

The St. Louis Art Museum is essentially in my own back yard and less than 5 minutes away.  But to get to the church where Fontella's memorial was to take place required Mapquest.  And interestingly enough, Mapquest chose a 30 minute route through the most gangster-ridden, dangerous neighborhoods you can imagine. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea", I thought, as I barreled past boarded up buildings in the bleak, battle-zone blocks of North St. Louis.  Funny how Mapquest doesn't take the particular property of personal peril into account. Well, perhaps the route was all part of a pilgrimage experience, so as to get a deeper understanding of the roots of black music.  You gotta show some respect to the dearly departed, so I took my chances. 

Amazing grace! The adventurous ramble ended up at a large Christian church in an outlying suburban locale.  I quickly observed that I was definitely one of a minority complexion, but was received with sincere warmth and welcome by the assembled family and friends. What then commenced were prayers, poems and musical selections of gospel, blues, and soul that righteously rocked the roof off. An after-set followed in The Duck Room at Blueberry Hill, which is practically in my own front yard. It was indeed a fitting send-off to Fontella.

Studies for the Virgin's hands

Federico Barocci

Charcoal with red and pink pastel heightened with white on blue paper

10 13/16" x 15 1/2"

Kupferstichkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

My message today is to get off the couch and go see some good art and listen to some good music - it is out there and likely in your own front or back yard! And if you haven't yet seen the current exhibit of Barocci at the St. Louis Art Museum, you'd better run, because it runs only through January 20th. You will be awed by the intimacy of sketches and drawings that build up to the finished paintings.  You will be able to observe the creative process of a great artist. The show is composed of 134 pieces, assembled from all corners of the world, so this will save you a lot of money and time in travel expenses. Better get going and you'll feel like you're in heaven!

If you still need rescuing, listen to Fontella:

1. Fontella Bass - Rescue Me (1965) - YouTube

   ► 1:52► 1:52

   www.youtube.com/watch?v=ndO80eh9YwIShare

   Mar 6, 2009 - Uploaded by John1948Five

   The 1965 classic "Rescue Me" is widely regarded as the greatest record Aretha Franklin never made. The song ...

2. 
   

Toilet Story

The week before Christmas, I was called to advise on an emergency toilet specification...not a good thing to rush into at any time of the year!  This resulted in a long conversation about the pluses and minuses of what is available in the market.  On Christmas Day I watched, and very much enjoyed the movie Toy Story 2.  Then, at a New Year's Day brunch, I found myself being privy to a toilet story and I swear I didn't bring up the subject!  This guest recounted the exciting experience of selecting and buying a dual-flush, low-flow fixture. And so, Toy Story 2  was buttressed by a toilet story on each side, pun intended!   

 

 

Basic bathroom

I grew up in a family of seven children and two parents, and we shared a single bathroom in our century old farm house. There was a toilet, a wall mounted sink, and a free standing tub. Believe it or not, one bathroom per household was commonplace. Frankly, I don't recall it being a big deal. The problem that I perceived had to do with its appearance.

Another old bathroom with a tub like the one I had as a child.

It may have been my first home decorating project, and I'm guessing I was 10.  The room was about 6 x 8 feet, with an 8 foot ceiling height. There was a dado running around the room.  My idea was to paint the wall and ceiling above the dado a glossy fire engine red. The trim would be white,  and below the dado, I would apply a realistic black and white brick pattern vinyl wallcovering. Washable red carpeting anchored the floor. My parents willingly paid for materials, and I provided the labor. The red, white, and black scheme looked quite fashionable, and my parents were always proud to show it off to friends. Hey!  It was the fifties! 

Basic bathroom with dado

I wish that I had a photograph of the before and after - perhaps the catalyst to launching my career in interior design many years later!  The toilet in my childhood home was as basic as you can get, and amazingly, it seemed to hold up to all the use that it received.  Today, however, if I had my druthers, I'd have a Toto toilet, for the ultimate toilet story of luxury.  If you have never had the experience of trying one, I recommend it highly; you will be baptized, so to speak, and born again!

Toto Neorest

A New Orleans Kind of Christmas

For years now, the holidays have had a little extra special component to add to the excitement.  My daughter Emily's birthday is on Christmas Eve, and I couldn't imagine a better way to start the season! 

New Orleans knows how to celebrate any kind of holiday; it's just one superlative after another. You wonder where they store all of the decorations, given that they don't have any basements! In Emily's neighborhood, you'll find charming shot-guns a block away from jaw-dropping mansions; each and every showcasing the same passion for decoration and delight.

There is the gaudy display of kitsch... 

but the scale of the Santa  and the sense of humor rings the bell!

In New Orleans, elegance and enchantment celebrate the season minus the snow and the cold. Not to say that we didn't have the air conditioning running one day and the heat on the next!  But I  am so grateful that Emily chose Tulane so that I could come to know this great city as my home away from home.  Right now, with a little Sazerac, I'm in that "New Orleans state of mind", so...

Happy Holidaze to one and all!

The Dreary Inn

The idea, of spending the holiday season in New Orleans was a new one indeed.  I had never spent it away from St. Louis.  But Emily couldn't come to St. Louis, so the decision was clear:  pack up the car and the dog and head on down to warmer climes, with a stop-off mid-way at a dog-friendly motel.

The landscape from St. Louis to New Orleans changed from hilly to flat.  

Chewy

A dog's life - who wouldn't like to be conveyed in this style?

The dramatic six story lobby

Ah, the drama of an off-highway ramp hotel!  It was a middle-America adventure to behold, and one that promised not only to pamper your pets, but promised free breakfast and dinner for the patrons.  The mention of three free alcoholic drinks had a certain appeal as well...But true to form, I was late on arrival and the restaurant and bar were closed.  A salad from Appleby's had to suffice. 

Toilet on an angle

I must admit I was a bit taken aback by the luxurious details such as marble and granite baths, and here, a toilet ON AN ANGLE!  I really liked that touch. It was Chewy's first stop for a drink. There was a flat screen TV and a kitchenette; all the accoutrements of home! Though the tub drain required fixing before I could take a bath, the bed was delightfully comfortable, and I was soon drowsy and in dreamland.   

Dreadful food

Only to wake up to a nightmare...Amidst the frills of an indoor pool, jacuzzi, work-out room, fireplace, computer center, friendly and caring staff and so forth...How could the these high standards suddenly plummet when it came to food?  What I thought might be served in a prison was laughable when served in fancy buffet receptacles. Unfortunately, the hungry patron had to wrestle with toy plastic forks and knives on styrofoam plates. Like a barbarian, I was reduced to tearing my rubber waffle apart by hand. The buffet presented one dish after another of tasteless starch, fat, and mystery meat. White and orange were the dominant colors. These were scraps that I wouldn't throw to Chewy!

Well, if you ask me...there needs to be a certain consistency when "luxury" is thrown around. You can't serve slop on granite countertops.  And don't tell me people don't want it or need it. This is the time for standing up and doing what's right - otherwise, you can say it's all gone to the dogs. And I'm sure dogs don't care if their toilet water is served in a granite and marble bathroom!

Howard's Whisker

A few years ago, when my cat Howard’s vet proclaimed that Howard’s whiskers were the longest that she had ever seen, I felt as proud as a parent. For me, this was just one more example of how extraordinary and exceptional a cat that he was.

From that day forward, if I found a whisker that Howard had shed, I taped it to a door as a testament to his talent.  It was a wonderful curiosity that always made me smile.  

Howard came into our lives eleven years ago. While looking to adopt another dog, I got it into my head that it might be nice to have a couple of kittens, too. In order to coordinate with my interior design color scheme,  I wanted a gray cat and a black cat to complement  the two gold colored dogs. 

                          

Emily and her best friend Carolyn were given the honor of name selection.  They decided that the black one would be named Howard, and the gray one would be Simon.  

My mother called Howard “Dennis the Menace”.  He was always getting into mischief of one sort or another.

The years flew by and Emily went off to college at Tulane University in New Orleans.  That was an interesting choice, because her father and I had met when I had an apartment on Tulane Avenue.

Emily missed the animals and telephone conversations with her were frequently about Howard’s latest antics.  When she was home, Howard could always be found in her bed, day or night, and frequently both.

During her junior year at Tulane, Emily chose to study abroad for a semester at University College London.

This was another interesting choice because our home was on Westminster Place in St. Louis.  Who could have foreseen that she would live in the environs of Westminster Abbey one day?  

Emily had been in her London dorm room  for only a few days when she found what was clearly one of Howard’s whiskers.  It was smack-dab in the middle of her bed, on a new white sheet.  Her immediate response was to laugh, and then she taped it to the wall. 

When she told me this story, I marveled at the miracle. She hadn't packed sheets because English bed sizes were different.  Perhaps Howard had slept in her suitcase the night before she left, just as he had slept in her guitar case on occasion. How had the whisker made the transatlantic journey and not been lost? 

Here’s my theory: Howard had never traveled anywhere but to the vet’s office and occasional walks around the neighborhood. Of course, he couldn't accompany Emily on her voyage to London. As the armchair traveler that he probably was in his never-ending naps, he sent one of his whiskers instead.  Cats are known to have a particular sensitivity to the earth’s magnetic field and so are masters of direction. Was Howard trying to help Emily navigate the globe?

Whiskers also help cats determine if their body will fit into tight spaces. It’s as if Howard sent Emily the whisker to help her squeeze into a coach fare seat, 

the small confines of a college dorm room,

 a tight subway,

or crowded street. 

Though Emily had Howard’s whisker, and not Howard himself, I may be stretching things to suggest that she enjoyed the benefits of having an actual cat. But could the whisker represent an old friend and provide companionship? And as cats are known to do, could the whisker help to dispel feelings of loneliness that Emily might experience in her new situation, far from home? 

Emily’s semester abroad was coming to a close.  Her father visited in March, and I visited her in May, when she was done with her coursework and preparing to leave for two weeks in South Africa. 

Just as her father had brought her ski equipment to ski in the Alps, I brought her hiking boots to climb mountains and a wetsuit to surf off the tip of the continent.

Howard’s whisker was not done yet with its duties. It needed to help Emily to navigate to another hemisphere, and then home again.  It did.

Another inscrutable connection occurred a few days after Emily had returned home.  She took a bowl from the kitchen cabinet and exclaimed that it had the logo of University College London! It was a mismatched and random bowl that we’d had for years. Nobody knew where it came from. Most of the time it had been used to feed Howard his dinner  – until I decided he needed an official cat bowl. Then the bowl made its way back into the cabinet.  

Had the bowl predicted Emily’s study-abroad experience years in advance?  How had it traveled from a University College London dining hall to our St. Louis kitchen cabinet? How had Howard’s whisker traveled to a University College London dormitory? The whisker and the UCL bowl!  Are these curious coincidences or magical mysteries only Howard the cat can explain? Perhaps we’ll never know because Howard is always asleep!  But then again, that cannot be – because Howard is Howard and he’s only being himself – always making mischief!

Call Me Color Blind

In defense of defenseless colors worldwide, I am now going to rant about the rampant racism I regularly witness. Who will stand up for these poor colors that have no voice of their own?  How would you feel if you were unfairly maligned simply for the color of your skin? Do you hold prejudice against certain colors, innocent by their very nature and incapable of malice or scorn in return?  In a taupified world such that Restoration Hardware espouses, do you ever speak out for the underdog when you witness discrimination?  This past spring I have been stupefied by the splendid flowers, by the brave little buds that proclaim, for example, "Look at me, I'm magenta!" They put out their chests, hold their heads high, and show off their colors with pride.

                 Please don't hate me because I'm beautiful!                                                          

When a client makes a grand pronouncement of hating one color or another, I am somewhat stymied.  Hate is such a strong word! And how has green come to be a popular color to despise and deride?  It usually has to do with some wretched hospital experience or being forced to eat canned peas as a child.  Well, I say, look around you, the world is largely green, and even then, the green is fast disappearing.  How can you dislike the color of trees and plants?  How can you loathe the color of growth and rejuvenation?  Former English majors sweat out a living coming up with names such as 'Glamorous Green' and 'In The Meadow'.  No need to spray 'Round-Up' everywhere!

 Color Profiling

Once, at the request of the client,  I did an alcove with purple upholstery.  All was well, until at the time of installation, the upholsterer made a stupid comment about it "Looking like Barney". Then the client hated it and wanted it redone.  Such emotional reactions tend to inhibit design solutions. I remember my daughter, Emily, going through a  period when pink and purple were her favorite colors.  One day, with a very serious and concerned look on her face, she asked me, "Do you like brown?" I've had clients dismiss worthy colors  with criticisms such as "Looks like baby poop", when the romanticized name might be 'Cut The Mustard'. Perhaps some of my clients could have another career coming up with paint color names such as 'Victorious Vomit', 'Bileous Bile', or 'One Too Many'.  

Red Man

I love the story of designer William W. Stubbs, who had the assignment to decorate a client's home while the client was out of town.  I'm not sure that Mr. Stubbs mistook his carte blanche for carte rouge, but when the client returned home he found a scheme based on red.  The client called Mr. Stubbs and said, "I hate red! You're fired!"  This story had a happy ending, as the client got to like the red rooms, and Mr. Stubbs was rehired.

Ready, Aim, Fire!

People aren't born hating certain colors.  I believe they were taught to be color racist by their parents and other early childhood influences. Come on now, it's not all black or white in the box and everyone has to get along!

Peach Flesh

Did you know that crayon names could be politically incorrect?  I never questioned the color 'Flesh' growing up in white suburban America, but in 1962, the color was renamed 'Peach' in response to the Civil Rights Movement. 

                                              Orange Man

You might need to select the orange crayon for coloring George.  And be sure to stay in the lines that the plastic surgeon so carefully crafted!  When starting an interior design project, sometimes a good clue as to what colors the client would be most happy living with are contained in their clothes closet. A quick perusal tells the truth. 

Blue Man Group

My favorite color in the Binney & Smith box of 64 crayons was 'Cornflower'.  Speaking of which...there are those who "hate blue". See the sky above you, and the oceans and lakes?   Saying you hate a primary color such as blue is equivalent to wiping out the entire string section of the orchestra. 

Out of an infinite number of colors, we can likely see only 10,000,000. So many choices!  We can expect that certain hues will go in and out of style.  I would like to suggest that though we may have our favorites and overall preferences, that we watch our word choice and no color's feelings will be hurt. Inclusiveness and tolerance will make for perfect harmony!

Good Night, Dear Friend

DIETRICH FISCHER-DISKAU, 1925-2012

Winterreise, by Franz Schubert
Gerald Moore, piano
Poem by Wilhelm Muller

1.  Good Night (Gute Nacht) 

As a stranger I arrived

As a stranger I shall leave

I remember a perfect day in May

How bright the flowers, how cool the breeze

The maiden had a friendly smile

The mother had kind words

But now the world is dreary

With a winter path before me

I can’t choose the season

To depart from this place

I won’t delay or ponder

I must begin my journey now

The bright moon lights my path

It will guide me on my road

I see the snow-covered meadow

I see where deer have trod

A voice within says – go now

Why linger and delay?

Leave the dogs to bay at the moon

Before her father’s gate

For love is a thing of changes

God has made it so

Ever-changing from old to new

God has made it so

So love delights in changes

Good night, my love, good night

Love is a thing of changes

Good night, my love, good night

I’ll not disturb your sleep

But I’ll write over your door

A simple farewell message

Good night, my love, good night

These are the last words spoken

Soon I’ll be out of sight

A simple farewell message

Goodnight, my love, good night

It says something of our American culture that the New York Times eulogized the passing of one of the greatest musicians of all time on the front page, as well as an entire page inside.   Lieder lovers, unite, in our sadness with the silencing forever of a truly sublime voice.