collapse and delight

for the love of hotze eisma


Hotze Eisma is one of my very favorite photographers. We’ve used a lot of his shooting in the European interiors series I edit, and I’m compelled to say HOTZE EISMA! out loud, emphatically, every time he comes up. I also have a number of the original magazine features on my corkboard and in my files, and so know a lot of these places by heart — as if I've stood in those rooms, in that light. But Emma Fexeus today pointed out something I did not know: his website is not only packed full of images, many of which I’ve not seen before, but there are downloadable PDFs of dozens of homes. So much insanely beautiful stuff. For example, I’m pretty sure I could live happily ever after on this little Netherlands waterway —

life in 100 square feet

VSL’s pick this morning was this remarkable collection of 100 photographs by Michael Wolf — the interiors of 100 apartments in Hong Kong, each 100 square feet in size. Most of the residents are older individuals, but there are a number of couples, a few kids here and there, several middle-aged women with their elderly mothers. How one person can live in this tiny space is hard to fathom, and then you run into this one, which has been divided into two compartments.

The young adults leave me wondering if they’ll grow old in this same cubicle. Some of the rooms look like death scenes in the making, the contents sure to collapse on the tenants. There’s some noble poverty and some squalor, all in this same building, in these identical spaces, but what simply does not exist anywhere is a window.

“how to murder your wife,” the townhouse

                                           

I can’t remember where I first heard the reference to Jack Lemmon’s 1965 film “How to Murder Your Wife.” It is a not a very good movie, but I’ve watched it several times in the past year or so (with the sound off all but the first time) just for the townhouse, which really is the central character of the movie. The chief threads that run through the place are white lacquer cabinetry and bentwood chairs — a combination I always love. And there's a fantastic long hall of cabinets (in which the butler stores the stilettos and such of the bachelor's overnight guests). It’s amazing how little you’d have to change (the bed, some curtains, the prop styling) to make the place feel completely current. But what’s amusing is that this, in 1965, was presented as the ultimate bachelor pad.

puzzled by the vogels


I just posted at Readerville about this amazing story — The Vogel Collection: thoroughly modest Medicis. And it is thoroughly amazing. But the thing I can never understand about a story like this — as a person whose mood and, er, sense of well-being are deeply impacted by my surroundings — is how people with such a finely honed aesthetic sense could live in this room. No snark intended; I truly can't reconcile that.

steven gambrel’s digs

I can't stop looking at Steven Gambrel’s house in the Jan/Feb Elle Decor, which is a master class in attention to detail, what with the lacquered walls here, the upholstered (with nailhead trim!) walls there, the subtly varied and layered finishes everywhere. There are lots of his signatures — the Jordan Almond colors, the contrast welting, the focus on the borders of every little thing — but it’s all on a deeper, richer, more seductive level. And the kitchen is like the world’s loveliest dungeon. They’ve given it 6 spreads — seventeen gorgeous William Waldron photos — and it’s still not enough.

paul costello

Of the photographers whose work I haven't been able to use, Paul Costello somehow pains me the most.