Friday, May 13, 2016

Morning Light

Light fascinates me. Composition too, as well as color. But mostly light.

Here is morning light on the upper west side of Manhattan from a day ago, with a north facing window. Nothing done to the  photo. No enhancement, filter or manipulation. 

Speaking of composition: I recently edited out two small black tables that resided on either side of the hearth (see here). Yes, I know all about having a place to put drinks—which is why I put them there to begin with, but having greater openness feels right—and the tray on the ottoman suffices, does it not? I have a somewhat larger 19th century oval one which is begging to be gilded. Doable, right? Of course, I may put them back—the small tables that is—and can only surmise that my hankering for space is something of a metaphor since I have been working on a literary project. Funny how the mind works. 

Next up is a large mirror, which I have been yakking about forever, but am revving up to do, the frame sitting in the basement. 

But first—love me some light.... 

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Mr. Buddha

Mr. Buddha has appeared here before, but that was before I was working with him a few feet away, plunked down a tea cup and pot and snapped a photo in my mind. 

I like this guy. There's something about him. The light coming out of his head? Gilt on wood? (I am a sucker for that.) The golden light? All this and more. 

I picked him up at the Toronto flea market in 1999 or 2000—can't remember which now, but do remember that he lived in Rome, New York, for a long while before making the trip. Never says a word this guy. Deep thinker with a half-smile on his face: glowing, glowing, glowing. 

We should all do that.  

Monday, May 9, 2016

Dinner with Friends

Dinner with friends on the upper west side of Manhattan was planned for several weeks even if the preparations were somewhat last minute. One friend helped me set the table in all of ten minutes tops, which included running around the corner and grabbing tulips for a centerpiece; purple, orange and red pulling everything together. 

Poirot would have not been happy since we were 7 and not 8, but that mattered little, everyone quite cozy at a table that seats 10 with added leaves. On this evening 2 out of 3 were put into service—and I ironed the table cloth right on the table with a thick pad underneath. Such a hack that. But a good one. 

Oh my, but the Prosecco flowed! As did a lovely Tabarrini rose. 

It must be spring.