(2/3/42 – 27/10/13) “When Lou Reed sings, a child somewhere dies.” This horrible statement, attributed to our good friend Matthew R, has a black truth in it (like all good and unfair epigrams). Reed’s records were not for everyone and definitely not for children. Jewish, polysexual, extremely troubled as a youth (his parents committed him to shock treatment at a psychiatric hospital when he was 17) and artsy, he spurned the comfortable Long Island existence and devoted himself to his trade. With some diversions, that is: incredibly, after the release of the Velvet Underground’s Loaded, he was working as a…
Continue Reading →We spent the better part of a day drinking in the marvels contained in this lovely Dutch pile of bricks. A Franz Hals portrait of a couple reminded me of Rose & Freddy West. We didn’t think much of the Night Watch, we have to admit, preferring Rembrandt’s Denial of St Peter with its third-degree searchlight from nowhere. Rembrandts in wonderful abundance, recalling Wyndham Lewis’ observation that “No serious artist thinks or propagates the notion for his own use that anything better can be done than such works as hang above Rembrandt’s name in Amsterdam or the Hermitage.” Corot never…
Continue Reading →(by Amy Sedaris) Indubitably the creepiest, funniest book on hospitality ever written.
Continue Reading →Welcome to the third edition of my blog, Annabel Lee. What colour is Wednesday? You may be surprised to learn that it is purple. Quite obviously that means evening bags. So, in honour of Wednesday, here are a couple which I prepared earlier…. Many of the beads in this first little one are Swarovski crystal, one of my favourite things. The medium dark filling in the lace sections in the lower part are comprised of precisely 1,267,098 French knots. This second bag is a lovely soft bouncy embossed velvet netted beaded beribboned thingie. The Tarot card which I have chosen for today…
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