Our House in the LA Times- go to article below

Our house in the LA times

Jeunesse Doreé

It was indeed

the time of 

cruelty and horror

Our

innocence was not so

easily lost. 

we clung on to it

hungrily

like spoiled children

extending

our days in the sun

Yes it was

stupid

and pathetic

and selfish being young

no we did

not deserve such pleasures

But by what right

could we deny the deafening

cry of your beauty

the eloquent

swell of her breast

or

the dark allure

of my hunger

Who could ignore

the call from the heart

the racing of our pulses

the giddy whirl

of friendship

a stolen kiss

in a dark

parked car

of two young boys

and

the sweet loneliness

of a talented

girl 

this is perhaps

not as dumb

as all 

that 

It was a time for firsts

where one stands on the perilous edge of

youth 

thinking forever

is a long time

It was she that gave my heart away

before I ever met you

it was I that tried to get it back

but it would never  belong

to anyone

else

ever 

again

Melanie Acevedo

this is what people mean when a space lives.

this is what people mean when they say it's so bad it's good.

 t

Art in Print

http://artinprint.org/Art_in_Print_1-1.pdf

Get a free 1st edition of this new magazine.

Focus on artisan printmaking

Old school and totally beautiful

Peacock Room

ABSTRACT: THE ART WORLD about James McNeill Whistler’s Peacock Room. In 1876-77, James McNeill Whistler altered the décor of the London dining room of his patron Frederick Leyland, a Liverpool shipowner who used the room’s shelves to display his vast collection of blue-and-white Chinese porcelains. The result was one of the most intoxicating decorative ensembles in the world: “Harmony in Blue and Gold: The Peacock Room,” which, since 1923, has been the star attraction of the Freer Gallery, a museum rich in Asian and Islamic art, in Washington, D.C. Charles Lang Freer, an American railroad-car manufacturer, bought the room, after Leyland’s death, from a London dealer, in 1904, and had it installed at his home, in Detroit. Upon Freer’s death, in 1919, his will endowed the Freer Gallery, which opened, four years later, as the first of the Smithsonian art museums. Last week, the Freer débuted a temporary reinstallation of the Peacock Room, by the curator Lee Glazer, which re-create its look in photographs from 1908— adorned not with porcelains but with two hundred and fifty-four of Freer’s own Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and Middle Eastern earthenware and stoneware ceramics, which he left the museum. The effect is wonderful. Leyland and his wife, Frances, championed Whistler in England. The gifted architect Thomas Jeckyll had lined the Peacock Room with latticed walnut shelving to accommodate Leyland’s porcelains. Where Jeckyll had envisioned a sun-dappled Chinese pavilion, Whistler contrived a chamber of the night. It realizes a synesthetic fusion of dazzling spectacle and intimate touch. Whistler was quite as modern as his friends among the French Impressionists, though he took a different tack from their common sources in the vehement realism of Courbet and the Spanish revivalism and dandyish urbanity of Manet. Whistler missed the express train to modernism when he moved from Paris to London, in the eighteen-sixties, and set up as a bad-boy darling of high society. But, for a great spell that peaked in the Peacock Room, he achieved a unity of avant-garde spirit and civil decorum. The amazing keynote of the room, given its crowding with visual incident, is simplicity.

Read more http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/artworld/2011/04/18/110418craw_artworld_schjeldahl#ixzz1JcM2rnlc

Tim Walker

sometimes my heart beats quicker than it should when facing such beauty.  Is the exposure so perilous 

Ferragamo residence in Florence

photo-Peter Estersohn

Ferragamo Residence - Florence, Italy

Since I'm into circles again today

what better than a circular

swimming pool

re-enforced by wedges

in the

hedges

and stripes

at the edges

Kenneth Noland

apothecary

Where is Weiwei

China is too much!

government is too much!

people are too much!

too many people are too much!

getting from here to there is too much!

crying my eyes out for art is too much!

too many bicycles strung

together

weightlessly

is nearly enough

stools that dance and lift themselves

from a clean white floor

is nearly enough

one artist shaping, lifting

pulling the dark, 

heavy load

of us

is not

enough

Jean-jaques du Plessis

emerging young artist-

showing at Valentina Bonomo gallery Rome

and

my nephew

Loren Mciver

she greeted me at the door

of her Greenwich village

town house 

a fugitive

from another age of New York

the door shut behind us

and into a world long 

left behind

This place was the

last gasp

of Bohemia

the walls with their

crumbling pallor in shades

of death

took the undulating

shapes of her 

crippled shoulders

Up those impossible stairs

 the studio cluttered with

another generation's

worries and joys 

unfolded

before me like a crime scene

there lay remnants

of a night with Calder

twisted into shapes of

champagne cork

housings

were dancers doing pirouettes.

in another corner were exuberances

scribbled on walls by 

Marianne Moore

and ee Cummings

echoes 

of stars gone dark

If I believed in ghosts

then I saw the

hunched shape

of Dylan Thomas

at the kitchen table

crying for

sobriety

A skylight above

crowned the space 

but like on a stage

the light that filtered

through

came from an imaginary

place

We spent our evenings

in the twilight

of her memories

excavating meaning

from an unchanged

narrative

she was its reluctant survivor

left alone

abandoned even

 with her pots of paint

and sticks of chalk

only her gnarled fingers 

at the end 

could scratch out

a clear message

from a

time gone by

a time

she liked better

than 

now

Bill Cunningham New York

Bill is the guardian angel

of Fashion

Through his lens and his

monk like austerity

he transforms,

all that is venal, excessive and

stupid

about Fashion

into what it naturally

is

a delightful tool, a coping mechanism,

an affirmation

of our shared

anxiety

teetering on the edge

of disaster and

ecstasy

The world is again in need of a saviour

Fashion has theirs in

Bill  

Glass Orbs

While I don't love all things

Union Glass

I do love these

http://unionstreetglass.com/proddetail.asp?prod=APNO

Michael Selsky

Los Angeles

Hey captures what I love

about this

sometimes

soul less

barren

disconnected

greedy

selfish

city

http://togetherwekill90291.blogspot.com/

MARK KARL HUGHES

Romeo Gigli - In the 80's

He enraptured the fashion

crowd with a romantic

vision not seen since

the turn of the century

in some hybrid and imagined

orientalist world

Season after season he 

defined beauty

and pageantry

a perfect escape

from the Reagan era

of pearls 

Nancy red

Barbara blue

and everything else

honky white

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Luis Barragan Pink is real

Since we're on the topic today...

It occurred to me that

Luis Barragan takes

the controversy out

of Pink

forever

No! his architecture says

real men do live here

these muscular volumes

crash into each other

not as giddy playmates

in the schoolyard

or gossiping neighbors

garishly clad

in Latin fifties

fashions 

Discipline, austerity, and

rigor

he tells us is not 

bloodless

Modernism he tells us is not

a hell of grey

His modernism plays as hard as it works

it has wit but makes

no jokes

It is fecund with

sensuality

it means its

place in the 

world

Magenta ain't a colour-hmmm

Magenta Ain't A Colour

By Liz Elliott

A beam of white light is made up of all the colours in the spectrum. The range extends from red through to violet, with orange, yellow, green and blue in between. But there is one colour that is notable by its absence.

 

Pink (or magenta, to use its official name) simply isn’t there. But if pink isn’t in the light spectrum, how come we can see it?

Here’s an experiment you can try: stare at the pink circle below for about one minute, then look over at the blank white space next to the image. What do you see? You should see an afterimage. What colour is it?

Read whole post : http://www.biotele.com/magenta.html