I was thinking over the weekend how is it I have lived so long without having art on my walls. Now I am obsessed with it its covering literally every surface. I guess its all about being brave and following your heart and not so called trends. I brought a fab sketch of J F Kennedy recently in a junk shop which I spent ages figuring where to put (love love those weekends playing house moving everything all over the place – it was pouring outside and there was I with my jazz and a fire and lots of snuggly lights – heaven) . The frame is a bit battered and peeling and the sketch yellowing slightly but all the better I say.
In my inspirational file that seems to be growing bigger and bigger are two images of art – one is super expensive and beautiful – the other an impromtu arrangement of images around a fridge. I am drawn to both which goes to show style has nothing whats so ever to so with money. As if we didn’t know that already hey!
A beautiful combination of textures and styles – adore the painting – its super stylish and beyond elegant.
I love this – this is me when I live in NY in my loft – wearing missoni and a dash of vintage and surrounded by battered, tattered boho ness.
So I can dream no?
I ain’t an artist with any artistic pretensions to boot, but I do see your lapidaric viewpoints so to speak from which springs the crucible of dreams, and through which will pass the dark night of the soul.
In a sense, you are envied at your having found your niche and nook. I came upon this site in a serendipitous way; and if it makes for elegiac reading, it is for me as were for any Yorkvillean doyan of Toronto that I am not.
Ciao!
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