The life of a utility worker can be a rough row to hoe, let me tell you: When you're not doing some sort of dreary mathematical calculation, you are going into someone's basement, or out in their yard, or listening to them tell you about the time that water heater nearly killed Aunt Fern. So there's no question that we need to relax from time to time, and one can only hold so much alcohol. That's why I was thrilled to discover Ray Conniff.
Well, ok - so I actually didn't "discover" him. Anyone over forty is familiar with his type of music: Peppy and upbeat and blessedly non-descript. Usually covers of broadway or pop songs. It bleated at you from the dentist's office. It lulled you in elevators. They played it in supermarkets. It was as familiar a part of the landscape as ashtrays, payphones and disapproving old women with plastic rain bonnets and huge purses.
But the world has changed - as if I had to tell YOU. Nowadays, you can't find either an ashtray or a payphone to save your life, the disapproving old women are wearing fanny packs and baseball caps, and most stores - or at least the lowbrow stores that down market people like me end up in - play an odious mix of R&B and "new" country (which is just like old country but worse. It's as if a focus group of Wal-Mart shoppers got together to tell a committee of junior high band directors what they wanted in the way of music)
It's the same way everywhere. Except at Chez Vel-DuRay of course, where it's always the eve of the Kennedy Assassination, and Ray is frequently on the Hi-Fi. But we've recently kicked it up a notch and invested in a USB turntable. This allows us to transfer our wonderful vinyl into easier-to-handle mp3's (or whatever the kids are calling them these days) and take them on the road with us. Thus, I can sit on the bus, blissfully unaware of the chaos, mayhem and vulgar cellphone calls going on all around me, while listening to "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" or "Love is a Many Splendored Thing".
Because after all, we all need our coping mechanisms, don't we?
Showing posts with label modern decorating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label modern decorating. Show all posts
Friday, July 02, 2010
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Campy Lamps!
I've had a lot of time on my hands recently, what with waiting around to see if my mandatory sex change and subsequent forced abortion would be scheduled before or after my meeting with the Obamacare death panel, so I decided to put together a new exhibit for The Gallery at Chez Vel-DuRay. I call it "Campy Lamps!"
I've been finding oodles of fabulous swag lamps recently. The kind of ridiculously over-the-top swag lamps that were all the rage in the late '60's, when everything started to go to hell, decor-wise, plus I'd been feeling guilty about the rain lamp, which had been sulking in the attic. Obviously, I can't put them in The Sala Grande, and they simply wouldn't do in The Lodge, so why not make an exhibit of them?
I know you are jonesing for a close-up (and who can blame you?) so here it is.
The funny thing about these lamps is that, like the over-the-top sofa paintings this blog is named for, they are going for lots of money at certain thrift stores. Right now, there is a wonderful lime-green and white painting of a bunch of ships in the display window at the Capitol Hill Value Village (which is not in reality a village, and is not at all a value) that is priced at a ridiculous $150. You would have to be insane to pay that kind of money, but if that crazy person exists, they probably live on Capitol Hill, so go ahead and knock yourself out VV.
Rest assured, these lamps were not obtained at anything near those prices: I know where to look for the good stuff at good prices.
Anyway, these lamps remind me of one of my favorite Aunts (For the record, I have six favorite Aunts - no favoritism here). This particular Aunt, who has now left us, was a wonderful cook, an excellent housekeeper, a doting mother and grandmother, a tireless farm wife, and then later a darn good bartender and store owner. She also had the most amazing house, where lamps like this would have fit right in, along with her plush red velvet bedspreads and matching drapes, artificial fireplace, avocado appliances, and gorgeously outre living room - all put together in the most non-ironic way you can imagine. It was always a treat to go visit her.
So here's to you, Auntie E: Someone still carries the banner for high style, Nebraska-wise.
I've been finding oodles of fabulous swag lamps recently. The kind of ridiculously over-the-top swag lamps that were all the rage in the late '60's, when everything started to go to hell, decor-wise, plus I'd been feeling guilty about the rain lamp, which had been sulking in the attic. Obviously, I can't put them in The Sala Grande, and they simply wouldn't do in The Lodge, so why not make an exhibit of them?
I know you are jonesing for a close-up (and who can blame you?) so here it is.
The funny thing about these lamps is that, like the over-the-top sofa paintings this blog is named for, they are going for lots of money at certain thrift stores. Right now, there is a wonderful lime-green and white painting of a bunch of ships in the display window at the Capitol Hill Value Village (which is not in reality a village, and is not at all a value) that is priced at a ridiculous $150. You would have to be insane to pay that kind of money, but if that crazy person exists, they probably live on Capitol Hill, so go ahead and knock yourself out VV.
Rest assured, these lamps were not obtained at anything near those prices: I know where to look for the good stuff at good prices.
Anyway, these lamps remind me of one of my favorite Aunts (For the record, I have six favorite Aunts - no favoritism here). This particular Aunt, who has now left us, was a wonderful cook, an excellent housekeeper, a doting mother and grandmother, a tireless farm wife, and then later a darn good bartender and store owner. She also had the most amazing house, where lamps like this would have fit right in, along with her plush red velvet bedspreads and matching drapes, artificial fireplace, avocado appliances, and gorgeously outre living room - all put together in the most non-ironic way you can imagine. It was always a treat to go visit her.
So here's to you, Auntie E: Someone still carries the banner for high style, Nebraska-wise.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Notes on "Notes On Camp", or don't you dare call my furniture deco
So it's been a few days since I posted, my dear nebulous readers (does anyone actually read this blog? If so, why are you so shy?), but I've been busy re-reading Susan Sontag's famous essay "Notes on Camp", which I first read decades ago in some long-lost literature class in college.
I didn't like it the first time, and I didn't like it this time. I found it overly-long, boring and pretentious - just the sort of thing that would be published in "The Partisan Review". But it did make me think about camp, and the role it plays in my life.
At the risk of sounding like a high-school essay, Webster's defines camp as "something that provides sophisticated, knowing amusement, as by virtue of its being artlessly mannered or stylized, self-consciously artificial and extravagant, or teasingly ingenuous and sentimental.", which is much more concise and easier to work with than that whole Sontag thing, so let's just go with that.
In one regard, I suppose that Chez Vel-DuRay - in itself a campy name - could be considered camp. Through the years, I've gotten used to the statements upon first seeing the place, and there are three general sentiments:
"Oh my God! This is just like my Grandma's house!" (Not usually meant as a compliment)
"I feel like Rob and Laura Petrie are going to walk around the corner any minute" (Mostly meant as a compliment)
"God, this place is beautiful. I love deco"
The last one is the only one that bothers me: The idea that ANYTHING in the house is Art Deco appalls me. I HATE Art Deco in residential applications (although I do like it in stores and theaters: Big, grand structures - which Chez Vel-DuRay certainly is not - are the only ones that can do Art Deco justice.)
For the record, Chez Vel-DuRay is Mid-Century Modern. Specifically, it is styled for the Eve of the Kennedy Assassination.
Except when it's not, of course. Which is where I sometimes let what I regard as campy rear it's Somewhat Different Head. Take this, for example:
I'm usually not into velvet paintings - especially velvet paintings of bullfighters. They're too cliched, and of the wrong period (The heyday of the velvet painting was the 70's.) And I'm not into drag queen-y swag lamps either - again, they're more from the late 60's - early 70's, and they are more tacky than campy.
But put the painting and the lamp together - particularly since the cabalero is being thrown from the bull rather than mastering it, as is typically the case in these paintings, and the whole thing works. It meets all of Webster's criteria:
Sophisticated, knowing amusement? Check
Artlessly mannered or stylized? uh huh
Self-consciously artificial and extravagant, or teasingly ingenuous and sentimental? Yup.
The whole result is sort of a camp tableaux. Not something I'd want in every room, of course, but a nice little rest stop on the visual highway that is Chez Vel-DuRay.
But back to the bigger picture of what is, or is not, camp. I bring you article two:
This, of course, is the new art I've been talking about over on Facebook, as well as a new lamp to compliment the new art, and some new plants for the planters. This, I do not regard as campy - although some of the elements, taken on their own, are campy. To me, this is a pleasing tableaux of approximate historical accuracy - which is the best we can ever hope for around here.
But let's drag old Webster out here again, to be the final judge:
Something that provides sophisticated, knowing amusement? Well.....yes, but as a side note. I think can be appreciated on its own merits as well. It's not just artifice.
Artlessly mannered or stylized? Artlessly mannered? No. It's not evocative, like the bull fighter and the swag lamp of the camp tableaux. It's not trying to be something its not. Stylized? Well, I'll give you that one. But what man-made thing isn't Stylized? Even dogs are stylized to appeal to our own aesthetics.
Self-consciously artificial and extravagant, or teasingly ingenuous and sentimental? I'd have to vote no on this too. Maybe it's a bit extravagant, but not compared to its surroundings. Teasingly ingenuous? No. Sentimental? Certainly not. After all, like Margo Channing, I detest cheap sentiment (ed. Note: Now, THAT is campy).
Admittedly, the early 60's were a campy time, at least in retrospect. And Chez Vel-DuRay is an exaggerated representation of that time - it's more like a stage set than something that real people would have lived in - but I would not regard it as campy. Unless I myself am too campy to see the real truth - which is a distinct possibility.
And who's to say that today's granite countertops and ridiculously oversized furniture won't be tomorrow's camp artifacts? I think sectionals with pull-out footrests and built-in cupholders are a thousand times more campy than anything you'll find at Chez Vel-DuRay.
But all I know for sure is, my house is not deco!
I didn't like it the first time, and I didn't like it this time. I found it overly-long, boring and pretentious - just the sort of thing that would be published in "The Partisan Review". But it did make me think about camp, and the role it plays in my life.
At the risk of sounding like a high-school essay, Webster's defines camp as "something that provides sophisticated, knowing amusement, as by virtue of its being artlessly mannered or stylized, self-consciously artificial and extravagant, or teasingly ingenuous and sentimental.", which is much more concise and easier to work with than that whole Sontag thing, so let's just go with that.
In one regard, I suppose that Chez Vel-DuRay - in itself a campy name - could be considered camp. Through the years, I've gotten used to the statements upon first seeing the place, and there are three general sentiments:
"Oh my God! This is just like my Grandma's house!" (Not usually meant as a compliment)
"I feel like Rob and Laura Petrie are going to walk around the corner any minute" (Mostly meant as a compliment)
"God, this place is beautiful. I love deco"
The last one is the only one that bothers me: The idea that ANYTHING in the house is Art Deco appalls me. I HATE Art Deco in residential applications (although I do like it in stores and theaters: Big, grand structures - which Chez Vel-DuRay certainly is not - are the only ones that can do Art Deco justice.)
For the record, Chez Vel-DuRay is Mid-Century Modern. Specifically, it is styled for the Eve of the Kennedy Assassination.
Except when it's not, of course. Which is where I sometimes let what I regard as campy rear it's Somewhat Different Head. Take this, for example:
I'm usually not into velvet paintings - especially velvet paintings of bullfighters. They're too cliched, and of the wrong period (The heyday of the velvet painting was the 70's.) And I'm not into drag queen-y swag lamps either - again, they're more from the late 60's - early 70's, and they are more tacky than campy.
But put the painting and the lamp together - particularly since the cabalero is being thrown from the bull rather than mastering it, as is typically the case in these paintings, and the whole thing works. It meets all of Webster's criteria:
Sophisticated, knowing amusement? Check
Artlessly mannered or stylized? uh huh
Self-consciously artificial and extravagant, or teasingly ingenuous and sentimental? Yup.
The whole result is sort of a camp tableaux. Not something I'd want in every room, of course, but a nice little rest stop on the visual highway that is Chez Vel-DuRay.
But back to the bigger picture of what is, or is not, camp. I bring you article two:
This, of course, is the new art I've been talking about over on Facebook, as well as a new lamp to compliment the new art, and some new plants for the planters. This, I do not regard as campy - although some of the elements, taken on their own, are campy. To me, this is a pleasing tableaux of approximate historical accuracy - which is the best we can ever hope for around here.
But let's drag old Webster out here again, to be the final judge:
Something that provides sophisticated, knowing amusement? Well.....yes, but as a side note. I think can be appreciated on its own merits as well. It's not just artifice.
Artlessly mannered or stylized? Artlessly mannered? No. It's not evocative, like the bull fighter and the swag lamp of the camp tableaux. It's not trying to be something its not. Stylized? Well, I'll give you that one. But what man-made thing isn't Stylized? Even dogs are stylized to appeal to our own aesthetics.
Self-consciously artificial and extravagant, or teasingly ingenuous and sentimental? I'd have to vote no on this too. Maybe it's a bit extravagant, but not compared to its surroundings. Teasingly ingenuous? No. Sentimental? Certainly not. After all, like Margo Channing, I detest cheap sentiment (ed. Note: Now, THAT is campy).
Admittedly, the early 60's were a campy time, at least in retrospect. And Chez Vel-DuRay is an exaggerated representation of that time - it's more like a stage set than something that real people would have lived in - but I would not regard it as campy. Unless I myself am too campy to see the real truth - which is a distinct possibility.
And who's to say that today's granite countertops and ridiculously oversized furniture won't be tomorrow's camp artifacts? I think sectionals with pull-out footrests and built-in cupholders are a thousand times more campy than anything you'll find at Chez Vel-DuRay.
But all I know for sure is, my house is not deco!
