I am getting ready for a vacation for almost two weeks. I doubt I will write at all during that time. In the meantime, I am preparing a piece for The Weeklings, the good folks who published my piece about my Dad and Mad Men. This next piece is about beauty and ordinariness. It’s a little something that has been brewing for a long time, inside, let’s call it a Frestsy, if you will, over all the gorgeousness, crafted, texturized perfection that is invading our world (my mind), and what we can do about it. And so in honor of this as of yet vague problem, take a look at the photo above and notice what you notice. If you feel like sharing, great!
UPDATE: 8/5/2012 I Probably Should Have Revealed….
That my interior was indeed an Australian police photo. I was struck by how, knowing this, I was drawn to the ironed tablecloth, the flowers on the table, the tea business, the china, the folded newspaper. What kind of life was interrupted, that morning in Sydney? What is the backdrop of this blood stain? This askance armoire? It’s a small apartment, by any standards, but so civilized, by my standard. Am I sick for caring how the table was set? Is it just proof of my Fretsy that I consider this a question worth exploring? What good is beauty? When your guts are about to be shot against your own front door?