Salon Des Geeks

As The Groom and I contemplate our first bold, foolish foray into the land of home building, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the way that the spaces we live in both reflect and influence the way that we live in them. The area where we live is replete with “McMansions” – 5,000 square foot –plus monstrosities that all look more or less alike and generally play host to families that don’t begin to fill them. I’ve always had an aversion to these non-homes, but I have never been able to articulate exactly why they don’t feel like homes to me. There are many things about them that rub me the wrong way, from waste and environmental irresponsibility to crass ostentation and a baffling lack of imagination, but it wasn’t until recently when I read an article in Fine Homebuilding magazine that I was able to put the last piece to the puzzle. The article, “Not So Big!” is by Sarah Susanka, an architect who has written several books including The Not So Big House.

Susanka’s example of the quintessential cozy space is the window seat. “Imagine yourself sitting in one,” she invites. “The floor is brought up, the walls are brought in, and the seat rests between inside and outside. From this vantage point you can see what is going on in both of these realms as you rest in this place that is almost literally wrapping itself around you. The place is tailored just for this activity of sitting and looking out. When you are there, you know it, and the experience is delightful.”

Here I think Susanka gets at the heart of what makes a space feel cozy: personalization. A window seat is one great example, but many more spring to mind. Think how much nicer dinner with your sweetheart is in a nook for two than at a table for four with two place settings removed. Having a space that’s the right size for you – no more – gives a luxurious feeling that it was prepared expressly for you. During a recent conversation about cupcakes (yes, I know, but bear with me), my friend Susan pointed out a similar thing about those treats: Their individually-tailored size makes them feel like they were meant just for you. Window seats and cupcakes we are not expected to share. I believe its for the same reason that a plated meal brought to your seat feels more luxurious than a buffet, in spite of the relative abundance of the latter. But back to architecture.

Susanka also notes that the spaces we love best are tailored not just to our numbers, but to our needs. The standard formal dining room is a throwback to the largely outdated, largely British tradition of frequent formal entertaining, which few people in modern-day America really do anymore. When we entertain, it tends to be more casual, and Susanka’s description of what happens when we try to force the dining room was so apt I found myself nodding and chuckling as I read it:

“They are sitting around the kitchen island and the family room, watching as you work, asking if they can help with anything, enjoying the informal social atmosphere. As the meal preparation nears completion, you try to usher said guests into the dining room, which is set with your best china, candles in the center of the table establishing the ambiance. But the guests resist. They don’t want to be in that formal space alone. Not until you carry the main dish into the dining room are they finally willing to part with their barstools and assume their places at the table.”

Susanka points out that many architects only include formal rooms because they feel to omit them would slash the resale value. The result is, people are living in homes that were built with resale and not living in mind. Is it any wonder they don’t feel homey? A few brave, down-to-earth architects like Susanka are inviting people to start with the way they live and build their houses around that, rather than vice versa.

“They recognize that the emptiness they felt in their megahomes is related to scale. Slowly but surely, as a culture, we are coming to recognize that quantity and volume of space are not related to comfort, except in the most tenuous of ways.”

Amen to that.

I was looking at the Shakespeare & Company website. Saw this great Macbeth poster: . Reminded me of an exhibit of Polish Poster Art I saw (Google Images). Basically, the Communist government kept artists employed by having them producing posters for film, and performances. There were some terrific Macbeth posters … the one which stands out in my mind was a decaying skull made of massive blocks of stone.

Anyway, I like this poster.

Along the lines of the recent posts about art and decorating, I recently discovered Nathalie Parenteau while on my trip to Alaska. I bought three of her prints (well, one print and two card-sized ones.. they were expensive!). I got a large version of Autumn Romance. I also bought Taste of Summer and Vine Maiden. I really wanted to get Rituals, too. I love her use of brilliant color and flowing shapes. I don’t think her style “goes” necessarily with the rest of my house’s (evolving) decor, which is mostly leaves and nature and muted tones, but I loved it anyway.

Kiri’s comment on Elizbeth’s post about the Art’s fest (My arts fest post is coming, honest). Reminded me of an idea I had for decorating. Now, I know what you are thinking, but no, you don’t need to own furniture in order to give an opinion. Besides, I have furniture now.

My idea was to decorate entirely with movie posters. In the kitchen: Eat, Drink, Man, Woman? Babette’s Feast?. Bathroom: Psycho, or The Shining. Recall that the poster for The Shining is Jack Nicholson glaring through the hole he has chopped in the Bathroom door saying “Heeere’s Johnny!”. Dining Room: Big Night(?). Et cetera. It seemed like a very interesting puzzle to select posters.

Of course I don’t actually decorate for the sake of decorating. But if I did i think I would choose to decorate with fantastic themes. The print that I bought at BayCon last year is an example. Similarly, the drawing that Joan has on her wall of a young girl riding a tiger. The piece of fine art they remind me is Balthus’s Le Beaux Jours, which I love. I like the way all these images tell a story. Certainly, the best movie posters do the same.

At this year’s Central Pennsylvania Festival of the Arts , I bought three beautiful photographs by Andrew Sovjani. I admired his work at last year’s Festival, and am delighted to have been able to bring some home this year. This got me thinking about a question on which I’m interested in hearing your thoughts: How do you decide what art (if any) to invite into your home? I know that I personally enjoy quite a wide variety of art, but there is relatively little of it that I actually want to own. Much art is beautiful, and much is intellectually interesting, but if I bought everything that I find attractive or thought-provoking, I would end up with a large and disjointed collection. So, what is it that makes a work cross the line between a casual flirt and a real committment?

In the case of Sovjani’s photographs, the deciding factor was undoubtedly mood. The word that springs to mind to describe these photographs is “quiet.” Each of his photos conveys a sense of perfect stillness. To me, the artist’s love of form really shines through these images, taking a single object that is itself simple and beautiful, and showing it off to advantage. Sovjani’s eye for balance and form really epitomizes, for me, why simplicity is elegant.

So for me, I think the answer to the question of what makes the difference between admiration and purchase is the philosophy embodied in the artwork. I like my environment to reflect my philosophy and to induce the kind of mood that I like to be in. In this case, the simplicity and tranquility of Sovjani’s photographs is a very welcome addition to my home.

Interestingly, I spoke with Sovjani at the festival, and he told me he always lives with an image for at least a year before deciding to exhibit or sell it, which I thought was a neat commentary on how art “works.”

In case you are curious, the three photos that I bought are “Study in Whites,” “Ten Tulips,” and “Coral Charm.” The one that I really wanted was under the “Uniquely Ordinary” gallery and is called “Steps,” but that photo is one that looks much less impressive on a smaller scale than it does in a large size, and I couldn’t afford the large one, so I decided to hold out. I am also extremely fond of “Paper White” in that same gallery.

I’m very interested in hearing your thoughts on art and how you choose (or don’t choose) it.