One of my habitual check-ins on the web is with the talented and beautiful author of The Secret Language of Sleep, at her long held online diary, evany's extended cake mix. Beware: This woman is super funny and stylin', and you might end up trolling ebay in search of, for instance, an awesome plate, when you had every intention of spending that part of the afternoon writing a brilliant and persuasive letter to Mayor Bloomberg urging him not to rescind the new 6-day schedule for New York public libraries, instead. A very similar thing happened to me recently. (I bought one for myself, too!) But when you take a look at this thing, can you really blame me? This bird is crazy hypnotizing.
I really don't know what I'd do if I were, say, served dinner on this plate, and then discovered the bird slowly as I finished my spinach and mashed potatoes. I'd probably totally flip out, man!
2 comments:
This problem (the spinach and tomato problem- not the psychedelic bird-problem) has bothered design reformists for ages. Listen what Christopher Dresser had to say in 1873 and guess how abstraction came into the world (the world of ceramics this time) : "No plate should have a landscape painted upon it, nor a figure, nor a group of flowers. Whatever has a right and wrong way upwards is inappropriate in such a position, as whatever ornament a plate bears should be in all positions as fully right way upwards to the beholder as it can be. Besides, landscapes, groups of flowers, and figures are spoiled if partly hidden, provided they are satisfactory when the whole is seen. Plates may have a white ground, for it is desireable that those articles on which food is presented should manifest the utmost clealiness, yet to a cream tint there can be no objection. I should however, prefer white plates, with a rather deep blue, indian red, maroon, or brown pattern upon them, and a pale buff table cloth for them to rest upon."
But then there is Charles Blanc, first professor of aesthetics at the Collège de France who thought that the best decoration was one that wasn't imitative but a beautiful lie instead: "Conseillés par la poésie, les orientaux ont orné leurs porcelaines tantôt de fleurs si rares que, n'étant point connues, elles semblent avoir poussé dans les parterre d'une contrée ideale, tantôt de bouquets charmants dont le dessin est pris sur la nature, tandis que la couleur en est imaginaire, de sorte que la verié s'y mêle au mensonge, comme il arrive souvent dans nos rêves." Please excuse the French, but nothing except for "Art in Ornament and Dress" (1877) is translated into English. I think Blanc would have been pleased by this psychedelic bird, because it can't be real. And perhaps the crazy designer from the 1960s who made that plate unknowingly followed Blanc's ornamental rules?
Indeed, Vera, indeed! You flatter me by reading so much into my silly posts. I never would have guessed there's a long-running debate about plate design but on second thought, DUH! of course there is.
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