Salvador Teran Glass and Brass 1950s Mosaic Coffee Service

Beautiful Salvador Teran Glass Mosaic Coffee Service

Beautiful weekend this weekend as I stumbled into a fabulous world of brass from the fifties through the seventies ....there were casualties of course like the amazing mid century pair of candlesticks whose lines are seared into my retina but I emerged triumphant with monumental horses, stags, cranes, fish.... a veritable zoo of 70s brass mania but I am most thrilled with this beauty...this gorgeous glass mosaic and brass handwrought coffee service by Mexican silversmith Salvador Teran...ah sweet MCM happiness.....

Evolution and Abdication

Paul Evans City Scape ash tray - photo via onbluepoolroad

Browsing through Peggy Wong's blog,  onbluepoolroad, it came to my attention that she recently sold a Paul Evans ash tray from his Cityscape series. After coming to terms with my initial shock,  I could almost feel her pain letting go of that Holy Grail of vintage. I am a master of abdication, I find something, fall in love and relinquish, confident that whatever it is will serve another beautifully and with purpose. But surrendering Paul Evans... I just don't know. Even if it is an ash tray.  I do not smoke, I do not plan on starting but occasionally you invite a smoker over and you want them to feel special when you banish them to the back porch.  Now that I think about it, that Paul Evans ash tray is a really good reason to start smoking. You can still order those wonderful marketing tools of the 50s...candy cigarettes, I could buy some wholesale, smoke them IN the house, fill the kid's stockings. 

I digress... the point my friend if there be one is that Paul Evans rarely falls into your line of sight with a reasonable price tag attached. It is masculine and visceral and begs to be touched. If there is one piece in the room, it is THE one. So I have one word for Peggy Wong, R-E-S-P-E-C-T.  I don't know how you did it. Probably some universal convergence like developing an allergy to the red dye they use on the tips of the candy cigarettes.  I hope you disclosed the risks to your prospective buyers.  Maybe you were getting "smoker's wrinkles" or perhaps you were putting on a little weight. If you were venerating the Evans ash tray like you should, you would be "smoking" about 3 packs a day. I did a little research and each pack of candy cigarettes has about 10 pieces at 8 calories each so that is an additional 240 calories a day.  Anyway, if you want to let me in our your evolutionary secret to abdicating something as wonderful as a Paul Evans anything, I would sincerely appreciate it.

Candy cigarettes - photo via Mamapop.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paul Evans and Andy Warhol - photo via spenceandlyda.wordpress.com

 

 

 

 

Paul Evans sculpture - photo via blog.ounodesign.com/tag/paul-evans/

Kintsugi and God Damn Verbs

Kintsugi photo via yoheitanabe.com

Kintsugi photo via Keramik Glas und Restaurierung

*one of two groups of Japanese verbs ending in u

The last year I was in high school, they added Japanese to the standard host of languages offered - and at that time, being the kind of a girl who did not "waste" her electives, I pounced upon the opportunity. Perhaps it was my curly haired Japanese sensei with her ear to ear grin who never quite understood why the entire class would burst into laughter when she would order us with her lovely accent to "Conjugate your Godan* verbs,"  but I began a love affair with all things Asian.  I enjoyed each second as "Momoko (peach)" in my Japanese class that year - so much so that my idealistic little self was positive the college professors would be as dedicated and charismatic as my sensei. I frequented a tiny sushi shop on the drag in Austin where I would savor the extravagance of each roll while studying my Kanji.  I soon realized I was no match for the non English speaking Japanese teaching assistants and left my Japanese studies behind,  but I continued to accumulate all things Asian until no corner of my home was untouched by the East.  Today, my home is more Danish than Japanese (as if there is a difference) but something about Japan's approach to dwelling still just seems "right" to me. 

We have established that I have an obsession with things that have the "stink" of life on them.  So Vieux covets, Vieux hoshii (wants) all things kintsugi.  Kintsugi is the Japanese craft of mending broken objects with a gold lacquer resin so that these "shattered" pieces become these landscapes with winding rivers and fissures of light, each piece richer because of its past, its texture, its journey.  If only we could remember this about our own imperfections and scars. Our thoughts are saturated with erasing our history, these wildly beautiful places that life has taken us - perhaps a little carefully orchestrated celebration of these flaws will help us remember how our mended but unbroken selves arrived.

Mid Century Modern Word Salad

Monumental C. Jere Birds in Flight available now at Lula B's Riverfront

word salad - noun - incoherent speech consisting of both real and imaginary words, lacking comprehensive meaning and occurring in advanced schizophrenic states.

Gintzing, skintzing, and skanking. These are variations of a host of words I use to describe, well, getting screwed out of something.  Gintzing is a milder affliction, something like a barista forgetting your whip cream. Skintz is a little more serious, akin to someone not giving you back the correct change and skanking is most definitely intentional deceit with the purpose of taking something that belongs to someone else. Mens rea at it's most culpable dear reader.  My fellow native English speakers may have noticed that none of these words has ever graced the pages of Merrriam Webster. To date in fact, they have only made the short trip from my vernacularly liberal lips to the irritated ears of my husband.  I confess I feel a little guilty as his face fills with the concern of a man who is witnessing his life partner exhibit the early signs of schizophrenia.... C'est la vie!

Anyway, I imagine that Curtis Freiler and Jerry Fels must have partaken in at least one helping of word salad before coming up with their nom de plume, Curtis Jere. I watch shoppers struggle through the halls of Lula Bs trying to remember the name of that French guy who did all the metal sculptures.  I imagine that in their heart of hearts Curtis and Jerry hoped that they would never be found out.  You can feel that whimsy and playfulness in many of their designs.  I have considered trying to mold my Texas Spanish Florabama transplant interpretation of "Yarray" into the intended French Jere complete with accent aigu but I think C and J would have enjoyed a good laugh standing behind me and watching me struggle with my early onset schizophrenia.  

Either way I am enjoying my favorite C. Jere that for now brings a bit of playfulness to my den and I am not feeling gintzed, skintzed or skanked. Freiler or Fels, Francofiles or Throne of Lies...it is marvelous.

Marvelous C. Jere whimsy in the den