i'm getting to the end of what i have to say -- in overview, anyway -- about the pottery barn catalog. soon it will only be necessary for me to post a single picture from the catalog, with no caption or commentary at all, and when you look at it, it will be as though i am right there next to you, droning on sanctimoniously.
but we're not quite there yet. and in the pottery barn catalog that came this week, i actually found a picture of a room i sort of admired. (so nice to have the scanner now: the pictures of the catalog no longer look as though they were taken through a fishtank.)
this room has been decorated for the purpose of having a summer sexual escapade with dominick dunne. i like the toile print. i like the engravings on the wall. i don't know why they have been affixed there with gauze-bandage adhesive. but i can imagine a scenario in which it was reasonable to tear them out of the book; i myself once found a large hardbound volume on the street, which looked nice and had really great illustrations, but which was a large-print version of excerpts of "great literature". so perhaps that is the kind of book these were taken from. i hope so.
that room looked almost inviting to me. not quite, but almost. this room, however... i don't think i'm going to need to give any hints here.
i'm trying not to think about it. but... how could it have even happened, a picture like that? did no one say anything?
i'm going to concentrate on the room with the toile bedspread. toile makes me think of fall -- everything does these days. and falling leaves make me think of fall. what if all the leaves that fell from the trees this year bore the countenances of nameless individuals felled in the killing fields of cambodia? such is binh danh's harvesting of souls. his work is incredibly beautiful and is not unlike some of the work of chunghie lee.