Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts

summer reading

Does the weather change your reading habits?

Yes, I think Mine do- somewhat. What are you reading now?
Me?
Mysteries (of course)! Now reading The Crimson Petal & The White in anticipation of the series from the BBC.
I am late coming to the novel and decided to read it upon recommendation from a beautiful blog Beyond the Pale here

The author Michael Faber talks about the book & the series adaptation:

Romola Garai stars as prostitute Sugar in the BBC Two adaptation of Michel Faber's novel about the darker side of Victorian London.

with a great cast of characters-the book- the movie cast includes Gillian Anderson in the first episodes and Shirley Henderson in all four of the episodes- what's not to love here? It seems somewhat more than PBS can "bare" according to the reviews- so it's unknown when or where in the States it will appear?
I do love a mystery.

Summer by Rex Whistler
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JUNE

JUNE
the Limbourg Brothers

Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry1412- 1416

I would be remiss not to note the straw hats the peasants wore

not to marvel at the original size of the original work, about 5 x 9 inches-a little smaller than this copy

SWIM

photographs by Gordon Parks, 1950

French models showing off new swimsuits.
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June 2

There, all is order and beauty,
Luxury, peace, and pleasure
-Charles Baudelaire

photograph by Gordon Parks, 1950

when straw calls: I

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it already being Summer here in the South-North Carolina to be exact-90 degree, sultry, humid-I say grab a straw. if I didn't manage to revive the parasol back into fashion-let me suggest straw hat. I have several I wear in the summer. In many ways little has changed in the styling of straw. Long before the damage caused to our skin by the sun came to light -tanning-basking in the sun- was very IN.
For me- now and for about 15 years- it has been OUT.

Back in the day straw hats of all sorts were worn to guard ladies from losing their fairness & it's still a stylish and good way to do so. Thoughts about hats after the Royal Wedding have led some to cry for the return of wearing hats.
My thoughts-don't give the ladies another accessory in which to over Do.
Don't.
Straw hats if held in check to more practical use- can't be harmful.

Pisanello, 15th c.

"For me, hats aren't an accessory, they are the raison d'être of an outfit."

Stephen Jones

baroness fiona thyssen-bornemisza 1966

My GranMa apprenticed at the local milliner and though she married soon after- and fairly well-she always had the talent to "decorate" a hat. That talent ran to other areas: decorating the house, exquisite handwork, sewing curtains, dresses, slipcovers, arranging flowers- painting, gardening-let's just say she had the knack-for- the list goes on.

'Millaners'

millener-1520–30; variant of obsolete Milaner, native of Milan, dealer in goods from Milan

"vendor of fancy wares, especially those made in Milan" famous for straw works, fancy goods, ribbons, bonnets, and cutlery. "one who sells women's hats"- likely from 1520s onward, but certainly in use by 18 century.

milliner- a maker of women's hats, first recorded in 1529 when the term referred to the products for which Milan and the northern Italian regions were well known, i.e. ribbons, gloves and straws.

there is something quite beautiful about this 18th century hat- the shape, the color, with only its chintz banding a little faded.

from the Costume Institute, 18th century

Mary Countess of Howe, 1764

by Thomas Gainsborough

Anne Bingham by Sir Joshua Reynolds

Lady Bess Foster Racky by Sir Joshua Reynolds

A FINE STRAW &CHINTZ HAT

D SHAPED CHIPSTRAW LINED IN A RED CHITZ PRINT WRAPING OVER THE BRIM

from Christies

By the mid 1800's Swiss and Italian straws, together with imitation straws made from paper, cardboard, grass and horsehair were available to women.

baroness fiona thyssen-bornemisza

photograph by henry clarke, 1966

18c straw hat with straw flowers from the V&A

" This is so British and so pretty. It's also well preserved. Whoever dyed those flowers certainly knew what they were doing. Hats can be wild and wacky, formed out of plastic and flashing lights, but sometimes it's quite nice to make things which are familiar and reassuring-" Stephen Jones, milliner

Bucolic Wedges for this Summer

Bring any ensemble to new heights in these insanely comfy, leg-lengthening wedges. Raffia, cork, straw, wood.... the platform shoes are adorned with natural materials, inspired by a seventy bohemian look tinged with fantasy.

Dolce Gabbana

Stella McCartney

Jimmy Choo

Yves Saint Laurent

Missoni

Miu Miu

Valentino

Christian Louboutin

DKNY

Ralph Lauren

Gucci

Chloe

Alaia

Images via Voguefr.

Greetings From Maine!

June is Bustin' Out All Over, from Roger and Hammerstein's Carousel, 1956.
Internet access here is very, very slow. Regular posts next week ...

a house with a Swing iii

I always equate summers with childhood -as a child I never remember being hot. For me the SWING is synonymous with Summer, Family and Memory.

My mother wrote & recited this poem to me growing up, &; we would swing:

“By grasping twin ropes in eager small hands & standing tall on my toes,
I came down with a flop on the old wooden board, & directed my efforts, to Slow to & Froes.
The leaves overhead rustled, as I pulled at the helm of my ship.
I gave them the eye as I took to the sky, promising half turns and dips!
Up Up & Away, touching the sky, feet high above the stone wall.
The swing in the tree was a space ship to me as I traveled to Rome & Bombay.
No time can erase my excursions in space and my childhood’s glorious days.”

I will always live in a house with a swing.

photographs by 1st image Holly Biggs, others by Andrew Ciscel do not use without permission.

read about the Minister's Treehouse here

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a house with a swing ii

It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing
(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)
It don't mean a thing all you got to do is sing
(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)
It makes no difference
If it's sweet or hot
Just give that rhythm
Everything you've got
It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing
(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)
It don't mean a thing all you got to do is sing
(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)
It makes no difference
If it's sweet or hot
Just give that rhythm
Everything you've got
It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing
(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)

It makes no difference
If it's sweet or hot
Just give that rhythm
Everything you've got
It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing
It don't mean a thing all you got to do is sing
(doo-ah)
It makes no difference
If it's sweet or hot
Just give that rhythm
Everything you've got
Don't mean a thing all you've gotta do is swing
It don't mean a thing all you've gotta do is sing
It makes no difference
If it's sweet or hot
Give that rhythm
Everything you've got
It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing
(doo-ah, dooooo-aaaaah)
Don't mean a thing

( photograph my mother and her mother c 1945)
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a house with a swing i

“Our fear of death is like our fear that summer will be short,

but when we have had our swing of pleasure,

our fill of fruit and our swelter of heat,

we say we have had our day”

EMERSON

my great grandmother & my GranMa

swinging in a double swing

c.1910

take the stairs

image of a stair at Chateau de Beloeil

from the inspirational site Belgian Pearls

my design project moves forward- so hot I always focus on the moment with Q & A, last week with Client and Job Supervisor (who could put a good designer to shame-after many years seeing the best of the best)

the house is coming along swimmingly. promises of a/c on the horizon. Floors are going in, One beautiful door (sliding) hung, tile in upstairs baths being laid.

stair railing: the topic at this meeting. having found a design my Client and I both love-the assignment Now is to make it work- meet code requirements, (remarked-a beach ball could go through that), adapting it to angled landings instead of curved. I've got ideas to make it work, awaiting some files from the architect to work it out on paper, while summoning up all my drawing skills.

pictures to follow of all updates when the a/c commences. even as I post this I am looking in a different direction-typical of the evolution a project! STAY TUNED

stair parts at wikipedia here

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knoxville girl makes good

patricia neal

1.20.26 - 8.8.10

more here

Suncreen by Jeanloup Sieff

jeanloup sieff here

ah! the glamour of it all

officially 98 degrees on Thursday.

& the temperature in new construction ? sweltering- other than that I can not tell you-

much further along Now-roof on, brick up- yet to be painted, sheetrock happening inside-
Lighting selections being made, cabinet details being fine tuned.
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1931

I return to this summer idyll painting time and time again-Stanley Lewis' Hyde Park painted in 1931. Lewis was inspired by Seurat's La Grande Jatte. Painted in the forefront- a self portrait, along with little girl & hoop,Lewis' niece, and the young mother was Lewis' then girlfriend. How storybooklike the scene, yet 1931, perhaps a little vapid, it was a lull of sorts. What were the realities of day such as this in 1931? Hyde Park carries its subjects and viewer away- all taking advantage of a beautiful day, with crowds clustering together and drifting away in their own thoughts. Great wars, great crashes, great losses- the before of this decade-the after.

1931. Virginia Woolf was midstream in her brilliant literary career with ten slight years in front of her genius work-Mrs. Dalloway. To the Lighthouse & Orlando had already been published along with A Room of One's Own- exploring a woman's role in a literary world, in a world of her own making. A feminist was born. Her inability to face a second war gave way, she filled her pockets with stones and walked into the River Ouse-drifting away on her despair. She wrote this to her husband:
I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been

1931. The Great Depression entrenched itself into the American landscape and it reverberated to the continent. It would hover until the second war entered. The Brits had lost a generation in the First World War. The reference- lamenting the death of Britain's future leaders, artists, poets- its great men. The loss of a way of life that never returned-a loss of innocence. Disillusioned with their own country, American artists flocked to Europe seeking all the erudition they saw lacking in the States. World War II would see their exodus from Europe and return.

1931. Ernest Hemingway, so full of bravado, wrote of the chaos of war and his own a participation as an ambulance driver. His life and work kept him just on the edge-the brink. He had already written The Sun Also Rises and A Farewell to Arms. It would be ten years before he would write For Whom the Bell Tolls, opening wide the wounds of war. His words were raw- excoriating & years of pushing them to the surface with a pen wore on him. What he endured, what he sensed could be endured filled his work and it culminated in his own suicide just short of his 62nd birthday. He left no note.
but -Papa did write this in 1954-
Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer's loneliness, but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day.
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