Paper Architects

It seems that the whole world has gone electric: The Yellow Pages, Google Books, Kindel, and now Lonny. Whither our friend paper? For those of us with an old  timey bent, paper holds a special, tactile quality that the internet cannot replace. One is compactly informational, and one is sensory and dimensional. So today's post celebrates a quality often taken for granted but inherent to paper itself -- volume. And speaking of volume, I'm feeling pretty deflated, so this is going to be short on words and long on pictures. Enjoy!

Ingrid Siliakus

Simon Schubert

Johan Hybschmann

Peter Callesen

That's about all the awesomeness I can rustle up for today, friends. I'm going to rest up and hopefully I'll be back tomorrow in full force.

Until then, Baises!

The Antithesis of Cheap Chic

Yesterday it was plywood, today it's Kelly Wearstler. Could two things possibly be more diametrically opposed? Anyhow, I had kind of forgotten about KW (possibly due to the fact that her hair raising exploits on Top Design are on hiatus), but whilst cruising fave blog If the Lampshade Fits I was informed that KW's house had made an appearance in Vogue. Has Erin been living under a baby shaped rock, you may ask? So I'm a little slow on the uptake, but I'm chancing an overpost in order to put up a zillion KW pictures because I think she deserves a rematch in the KW vs Haters fight for world domination over interior design. Say what you will about Wearstler -- she has wrong hair, the whole world has seen her boobies in Playboy (find your own link, pervs), she is responsible for the trellis pattern that will not die, she thinks pink and purple look smashing together -- but you can't say that she isn't influential. And she is never, ever boring. Negative space? What negative space? Her rooms have an all overness that many other designers' spaces lack; every square inch looks considered. And I really like what she did with her house giant freaking mansion.

Well, most of it. A zebra rug? Really? But doesn't that wallpaper make you want to go paint your own walls all scibbledy scrabbledy, because it is AMAZING. And it doesn't hurt that she lets her adorable kids climb all over her mansion like little berserker monkeys. I like that about her.

And, uh, have you seen this? Have you? Hello giant gold head and insane ceiling wallpaper! KW always has the most interesting furniture, but her house never looks like a furniture museum -- nothing sticks out, and everything looks properly integrated. Apartment Therapy is buzzing with hate over it, but the only thing I hate is the crappy image quality. Oh, and the flowers.

This does not mean I am professing a sycophantic love for everything Kelly Wearstler. I do not understand this dining table arrangement at all. Unless those gold heads are undercover plate holders, this just strikes me as weird. Actually, it strikes me as weird, anyway. But how about those chairs?

She does have a knack for picking quirky furnishings. Everyone needs a giant pair of priapic verdigris topiaries, right? Ok, so her spaces often veer toward the fantastic, but that's not such a bad thing, is it? Can we not just pick and choose certain ideas and apply them to our own home design?

Enough rhetoric. I am concluding my argument with a barrage of images from what I think is the most interesting hotel she has designed for the Viceroy empire -- Miami. It's maximalist in the extreme, but I could tear up a weekend at that spa.

So what do you think? Did you notice the giant head sculpture looks a lot like the one Karly found at Round Top? Did you catch the Eadweard Muybridge inspired mural in the spa locker room? Did you see the couch in the pool???

I rest my case and await your rebuttal, gentle readers.

Cheap Chic

Someday, I dream of building my own home in the country. It's a pastoral dream, filled with ponies and haybales and verdant acres of rolling hills and dales. Ok, so it's not likely to happen, A) because Austin is too damn hot to be verdant, and B) because the prices for new construction make my eyes gog out like a cartoon character. And that horn sound happens, too. So, maybe what I need to do is cut the finishing costs on my dream home. I can live without fancy molding, polished concrete would be ok by me, and why not jettison the sheetrock while we're at it?

The Wall House by FAR architects does away with many luxuries to create an ultra modern space that hovers in the nether region of home/tent/cave. What I am not ditching in the name of cost are those windows, since I plan to lay in bed and watch the ponies graze my sun scorched estate all morning long.

OWI

Don't worry, I'll still take my books and cute furniture with me. Just cuz I'm living in a plywood hut doesn't mean I have to live like a nun.

I'm hoping the shower area will be a bit nicer, not that I don't find the rubber duckies and oceanic liner, uh, charming. This just looks like a mold factory in the making.

Living, Etc

Well, that's better. Yep, those walls are plywood, cut and set in fancy pattern, so fancy that glorious lucite chandelier looks perfectly at home.

In living spaces, I appreciate the contrast in materials. This home of an art loving couple mixes high and low to the extreme. That console table would be an overwrought nightmare anywhere else; here it's kind of ironic. And the head is staring at me.

I found this beauty over at Roseland Greene. I've always liked wood on wood, but this is on another level. I have to say, the walls really set off the gorgeous credenza. Hmmm... everything looks better next to plywood?

OWI

Of course, if I tire of plywood in my country estate, I could always turn to particle board for a change of pace. What do you think? Grandma and Grandpa obviously approve, and I could just throw a bale of hay in the corner for the ponies.

It certainly looks like an aristocratic country estate, right? I might be a bit concerned about relaxing by the fire with a pipe, though. In any case, I'd double up on the fire insurance for this little tinderbox beauty.

Oh yes, I saved the best for last, yes I did.  No joke -- I would move into this gorgeous Paris loft in a heartbeat. Except that I do not live in Paris. Wait, why do I not live in Paris, again?

I'll just steal the ideas for my future plans, because I bet this kitchen cost substantially less than my own remodel, and it's pretty fresh. Can you imagine it stained dark dark brown? Hubba hubba.

Sleeping under a big Texas sky with the ponies lowing in the fields below (ponies can low, right?), I would congratulate myself on living a modern life out in the country. As long as I can get HBO out there, I think I will be ok.