Roaming By Design

Diane James Home at #NYIGF

Yesterday was a deluge of stimulation at the New York International Gift Fair. As I walked through Pier 94 with Roaming by Design's creative director Richard Holschuh, we noticed several trends emerging, the first of which brought us the fabulous fun of meeting some of our favorite tweeps that included @stacystyle @dunesandduchess and @dianejameshome (you know the blog, The Buzz, right?). Dunes and Duchess launched some new products that we loved, and the floral arrangements in the Diane James booth made a big impression for their lusciousness. One trend that jumped out at us was the number of home design products on which the written word was scrawled. It brought to mind this post by our tweep and member of the brash Blogger19 @ClarityK. Some of the products were noteworthy but the abundance of character assassinations were disconcerting.

Distressing the look....

In terms of finishes, it was a distressing year (not disappointing, mind you, but in terms of aged finishes, the most successful among them truly great). The beach is back (although maybe it never left and we're just seeing more of the seaside decor than usual in one place) and the garden is gunning for a very large chunk of the decor market. This is only a smidgen of what will be on view as the rest of the fair opens at the Javits Center today but in that microcosm of a show, these were standout themes.

Sea-ing the beach in interiors...

If you’ve been following me on Twitter or Facebook, or subscribed to my blogs, you’ve likely been bombarded by my gushing about the fact that I’m writing a memoir, which I post weekly on The Road to Promise to coincide with #WriterWednesday on Twitter! Wednesday has come around yet again and I put my 60th post online today, one that finds me reading an article by Bruce Weber about Richard Ford’s ability to create unique characters.

It was 1988 and the novelist was one of the hottest rising stars in American literature at the time. Weber quotes Raymond Carver in the piece. He was a close friend of Ford’s, and he says about his work, “Sentence for sentence…Richard is the best writer at work in this country today.” I have a love/hate relationship with Ford’s fiction, but I’m a solid fan of Carver’s work, especially his poetry. If I’m ever stymied in my own work, I often pull Carver’s A New Path to the Waterfall off my bookshelf and read a few poems. There’s something about his voice that has a way of kick-starting me when I need a good push.

Today, I thought I’d share this poem from his book because its subject figures significantly in my history as a writer, a history that is being plotted on The Road to Promise as I continue to follow the material along.

                                    Artaud

Among the hieroglyphs, the masks, the unfinished poems,

the spectacle unfolds: Antonin et son double.

They are at work now, calling up the old demons.

The enchantments, etc. The tall, scarred-looking

one at the desk, the one with the cigarette and

no teeth to speak of, is prone to

boldness, to a certain excess

in speech, in gesture. The other is cautious,

watches carefully his opportunity, is effacing even. But

at certain moments still hints broadly, impatiently

of his necessarily arrogant existence.

Antonin, sure enough, there are no more masterpieces.

But your hands trembled as you said it,

and behind every curtain there is always, as you

knew, a rustling.

                                     Raymond Carver (from A New Path to the Waterfall)

Carver’s poem references the theories put forth in Antonin Artaud’s book The Theater and Its Double, one that I read during graduate studies at NYU when I had the great fortune of having William Packard lead me through a semester devoted to the aesthetics of writing. In Artaud’s chapter “No More Masterpieces,” he writes, “Masterpieces of the past are good for the past: they are not good for us. We have the right to say what has been said and even what has not been said in a way that belongs to us, a way that is immediate and direct, corresponding to present modes of feeling, and understandable to everyone.” I’m heading to Paris next week so France is on my mind. I’m going to have more time to explore my deeper creative work during this trip as I hang out in the cafes where some of the greatest writers of all time have sat and scribbled their ideas, Artaud among them. I’ll be working on a book of poems and a play, and I hope my work will be infused with the level of immediacy and directness that he champions. I also hope to achieve something akin to Artaud’s brand of revitalization, even if it’s in the tiniest way. He proposes that literature and the dramatic arts induce a trance just as the dances of Dervishes induce trance: “There is a risk involved, but in the present circumstances I believe it is a risk worth running. I do not believe we have managed to revitalize the world we live in, and I do not believe it is worth the trouble of clinging to; but I do propose something to get us out of our marasmus, instead of continuing to complain about it, and about the boredom, inertia, and stupidity of everything.”

I will feel him looking over my shoulder as I write (say) what has been written (said) in a way that belongs to me, ever hopeful that some aspect of my work might someday have an impact even while I realize that it will by then be “of the past” and therefore only good for the past. As to whether I’ll ever produce masterpieces, that’s for a future generation to decide, I suppose. I’ll be long gone but may the work live on! Happy roaming everyone! I’ll be posting from the City of Lights next week: stay tuned!

Detail of Lawrence Ferlinghetti's Table: Can't Beat That!

There is something to be said for waiting patiently for "the next big thing." That said, I have absolutely no patience when it comes to postponing visionaries being celebrated in our American design milieu, which in so many ways lacks the spark that I’ve been seeing in Europe. We’re about to get an important infusion of that brilliance when Cleto Munari finally debuts the talent he's fostered for over four decades in New York City on February 2nd, and I believe this exhibition will prove Munari’s lasting impact on the world of design. Here’s some background on the man I like to refer to as the “Modern Design Poet”: In 1973, through his close friendship with Carlo Scarpa, Cleto Munari began collaborations with a stellar list of international architects and artists that resulted in functional items of beauty such as furniture, rugs, glassware, jewelry, watches and pens. Scarpa and Munari produced cutlery and sterling silver tableware, and Munari went on to design products with Aulenti, Botta, Portoghesi, Ito, Sottsass, Hollein, Mangiarotti, Tusquets, Paladino, Siza, Mendini, R. Meyer, Graves, Isozaki, Hoppenheim, Shire, Eisenmann, Venturi, Tigerman, Pelli, Bellini, Sipek, Thun, and Zanuso.

Cleto Munari in the Proust Chair

In 1980 Munari created a silverware and gold jewelry collection, called Masterpieces, with contributions by more than 50 architects and artists from around the world. The collection has been exhibited in 120 museums, and is included in the permanent collections of the Museum of Modern Art and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Munari has now collaborated with Alessandro Mendini for over 30 years. Together they have been responsible for silver accessories, jewelry, a pen dedicated to Toni Morrison (from the Book of 5 Pens Collection), and a new 2008 collection of furniture, rugs and silver sculptures. Munari had only briefly worked with furniture in the past and has just recently felt ready for the challenge of creating new collections, including a line he designed with Mendini in 2008, which expresses the architect’s lyrical way of looking at life and includes etchings taken from his personal drawings that he refers to as “decorative doilies.”

Munari does not understand how anyone can live with furniture devoid of color. He has told me that each time he enters his house he has the impression that he is “invaded by the music of all the colors.” To him, it is poetry. His newest collection is entitled “I Magfinci 7,” a series of tables designed by Cleto, the beat poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti, poet Mark Strand, painter Sandro Chia, artist Mimmo Paladino, architect Mario Botta, and Mendini.

Wood's Fish Market, Town Wharf, Plymouth, Mass

The divine Ms. JoAnn Locktov turned me on to Eric Engstrom’s art, which I’m featuring here today. (If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times, she’s the center of the connectivity universe!) I thought he’d be the perfect post for this #TravelTuesday because he’s the ultimate gadabout when it comes to his art, which is now on view at Gallery Route One in Point Reyes Station, California, until January 16th. His works reflect his interests in history, vernacular architecture, and the character of “the places in-between” along the back roads of America. One of his “bibles,” William Least Heat Moon’s book Blue Highways, remains one of my all-time favorites. I asked Eric to share a bit about his inspiration and what he is up to in 2011. Happy roaming everyone! In his own words… I’m a great admirer of barns—those utilitarian structures that manage to define their regions and uses so perfectly, ones mainly without architects as their creators. I am also fascinated by old industrial buildings that no longer produce the goods that sparked America’s growth in the 19th and 20th centuries. All of my art is based on my original photographs taken on several cross-country trips along old secondary roads. By creating digital photographic collages and then over-painting them with acrylics, I’ve tried to enhance the mundane and to create compelling visual comments about our built environment. Recently, I’ve added three-dimensional assemblage elements to the images, bringing forward the character of the structures even more clearly.

Re-concepted old mill building, Mass. MOCA Contemporary Art Museum

My inspiration spans all the way back to my early childhood. My dad, also an artist, used to pack the family in the car and take us for long drives through the back roads of New England, where I became fascinated with barns and abandoned commercial buildings from the back seat. While in high school I read Jack Kerouac’s On The Road, and dreamed of just getting in the car and driving, with camera, sketchbook, and journal to record what I’d experienced. After finishing the Rhode Island School of Design, I worked for Plimoth Plantation Museum in Massachusetts as a graphic and exhibits designer. One of my early assignments was to visit museums and tool collections on the East Coast, driving between small towns on secondary roads. Visiting places like the Hagley Museum in Wilmington, Delaware, the Mercer Museum in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, and the Farmers’ Museum in Cooperstown, New York, among others was a delightful part of my job. Studying in detail the barn illustrations of Eric Sloane gave me a real appreciation for American agricultural outbuildings.

Omochaya Dollar Store, Chinatown, Honolulu, Oahu, Hawaii

Later on, I read the classic journal Travels With Charley by John Steinbeck, and William Least Heat Moon’s Blue Highways. I have continued my readings with Vanishing America by Michael Eastman, Roadside America by John Margolies, and am currently enjoying Long Way Home by Bill Barich. I’ve driven across America many times, always preferring the old numbered “US” routes to the Interstates. My most recent cross country journey in the fall of 2007 totaled over 11,000 miles, less than 400 of them were on the Interstates.

Screen House Barn, North Carver, Mass

I began digitally enhancing my photographs in the late 1990s, and when I retired from the interior design field, I began creating individual digital photo-collages, each one using the same image. A couple of years ago, I began pasting the collages to canvas or hardboard (Masonite), and enhancing the images with acrylic and pencil. In this way I began to create imagined landscapes around the buildings I had rendered. By manipulating the buildings and landscapes visually, they became more interesting—the intent was that the mundane could be converted into intriguing and somewhat mysterious images. Last summer, in response to a group show requirements, I began working in the third dimension, using skills I developed years ago as an architectural model builder. The extra dimension not only adds layers to the image, it also allows the viewer to participate more fully in enjoying the work. My intent in 2011 is to explore the medium further and push toward more complex and edgy works.

It's #LetsBlogOff Tuesday and we were charged to write our own obituaries. Is it any accident that this is the shortest post I've ever written? Probably not!

Saxon Henry always left them laughing, even when she said goodbye. Case in point, her last gasp at the poetic: There once was a chick from the boonies whose family thought she was loony; she struck out on her own to see poetic seeds sewn which led her to blog-off every other Tuesday!

To see how the rest of the #LetsBlogOff gang signed off for the last time, click here for a list of their posts.