an ideal room imagined by Sloan Nota
artwork and furniture are actual pieces but their sizes are as unreliable as the perspective
Too much sober-sided reporting can make you cranky and dull. My inner toes are feeling pinched. So today we’ll explore another side of this blog. Make something, go barefoot, dance in the tulips.
For example that post about Zoomorphic furniture (May 18)? It needs a house. Colored walls, high-level art. I propose a house we’ll visit together — let’s call it the Idealo House for now.
The laws of nature aren’t the same in Idealo House. Cats don’t shed, dust doesn’t settle, there’s enough room for everything, clutter’s unheard of. Get more furniture? A new room grows to receive it. I can handle plumbers, electricians, folks with power drills and crosscut saws. Just give me room for my fantasy furniture, my fantasy art.
Please understand that the pieces are real works of art and fine craft, but I can’t afford them. Ergo, Idealo House. Here the spotlight is on living with marvelous things. Which they deserve, as do we.
Welcome to room 1. Maximo Riera’s glorious octopus chair is attended by an eager table. On the walls, three painters I love — from the left, Vincent Desiderio, Neo Rauch, and Cecily Brown. Three very fine artists whose work belongs in any perfect home that I live in.
A room this good needs people. I see two men. One’s puckish — he’s pulled the table around so he can sit to talk. He needs his ideas to fire up the skeptic in the big chair. He’s leaning forward, easy in the low seat. The second man’s legs are crossed, he’s immobile but somehow awry. This makes sense since his face has been painted in by Francis Bacon. (Not an eccelsiastic but one of the smeared ones.) His body is quite normal, but his sense of humor congealed years back.
He senses vague threat in the liveliness of this guest, the touseled hair, arm gestures, gleamy-eyed enthusiasm. The younger man can’t gauge the hardened leather shield held between them by his host.