Don't ask me. I think I'm getting webbed feet.

drawing room swamp toile, originally uploaded by jkeenan.

"If you can imagine a bastard version of Louis XV furniture, decorated with carved escarole lettuce and cuivre tomatoes, in a room so overheated that the whole thing starts to melt into long running drips, you are visualizing Art Nouveau."
--T.H. Robsjohn-Gibbings

I've been having a sneaking suspicion lately that my thesis might have been about me reinventing the aesthetics of Art Nouveau. Ouch. Here I was chasing these visual references to plants, highly wrought Victorian furniture and organic paint stains, following them through both art history and interior design, and now here they are, sitting together casually in a movement that happened four score years ago. It taught me about visual vocabulary though.

Earlier:
On Friday Ruth, my mom and I went to the annual quilting show in Henderson. Like last year I was less impressed by the quilts there than by the fabric for sale and the grand possibilities of things I could make myself. This guy from Oklahoma had a booth with quarter yards for $1.50. You probably don't know, but this is, like, an amazing price because we generally pay $9-$10 for a yard of good quilting cotton. And he had such great stuff! The joy and love for art and fabric and everything beautiful rose up in me so bright, I was giddy and chatty. Fabric could be the only boyfriend I'd ever want, except that fabric can't sppon you on Sunday mornings. Lying with boys under nice quilts is the best combo.

no doubt, sunday morning
k-os, sunday morning
the cinematics, sunday sun