When We Go Back to Denver in April...

...we are definitely going to visit the Denver Museum of Miniatures. I wonder if its nickname is "The Denvy Mini"?

Finding Your Guardian Architect

Do you have a guardian architect? Everyone should have one.

My architectural ambitions are on a decidedly small scale -- at least as far as the physical dimensions if not the design and execution. Like food, architecture is one addiction we always need and cannot abstain from as we might chemicals or gambling.

Late in his life, my father started designing wood boxes such as the one on the left. They pleased me at the time but have come to be more cherished in the years since he left since he was completely self taught in making the splices, deciding on the lines, the finishes. More than a few of them remind me of mud mosques rising from the desert in Mali, testaments of individual imagination and not one particular school of design.

Over the years I have collected a number of boxes from India -- some acquired there and, more recently and oddly at Borderlands Bookstore, home of Ripley the hairless cat. While their volumes of sci fi, occult and fantasy have never grabbed my fancy the boxes have.

More than once I've commented that I am probably the only person who has bought them not for drug storage.

Over the past six months I've been delving deeper into the legacy of the boxes or assemblages of Joseph Cornell, not brave enough yet to make my own and wanting to define exactly not just what will go in them but why things will go in them. I've slowly been procuring little items, from ceramic, metal and glass objects to the perfect extractions from nature, driven by not just Cornell but also the 16th and 17th century cabinets of curiosity.

How all of this weaves back to architecture is that lately I've been making little paper boxes in homage to favorite architects. While much of his work is too ornate for me, I love many of the patterns of Owen Jones and recently made the little boxes using some of his wallpaper designs to fashion tiny hatboxes, just big enough to fit those little Japanese kewpies into. Jones may have been a Victorian, but he did adhere to "the grammar of ornament".
It might seem ironic then that my guardian architect is Louis Sullivan whose work and life move me on a deep level. Though credited with being the father of the American skyscraper, it is often said that his work anticipates modernism without actually creating it. That is because he was quite fond of ornamentation. Yet I would not say that his work is ornate. To my mind Sullivan was a modernist but not afraid to be passionate, and his ornamentation echoes and harmonizes with nature not against it.

So tonight I made what I anticipate will be a growing series of Sullivan boxes, this one pulling elements of his "jewel box banks" that grace many small Midwest towns and filigrees from some of his Chicago work. It wouldn't be complete without a likeness of the master architect himself. I wonder if I am the first person to develop a line of 19th century architect action figures.

There Appears to Be a Problem

Oh, dear. Our board of directors appears to have reached an impasse on a very touchy agenda item. Quick, can someone recommend a good mediator?

Alert to Grey Line: New Attraction in the Mission

While it's clear that there are three top tourist attractions in San Francisco: Golden Gate Bridge, the Giant Sundial and Alfie's Troll Altar, I have lately noticed one that might be number four on the list. Though the displays lack Alfie's Vegas extravaganza panache, the apartment building at the northwest corner of 21st and South Van Ness has got some pretty groovy stuff going on.

Check the unit on the third floor, west end and look up. Not sure what all is up there, but it looks pretty dern good.

The Big Deal About All Things Little

Some of my favorite bloggers capture minute, obscure details of daily, urban life. I love the gorgeous reflections (verbal and photographic) by Reya of (After) the Gold Puppy and Susan of Art Spark Theater who has been re-enacting great movie scenes with little people.

This weekend I picked up the book Little People in the City that features the work of Slinckachu of London. From benign to high crime, he captures it all and is fast becoming one of my favorite artists and bloggers. I am already conspiring on how I might re-enact similar scene in my 'hood.

Escorting the Russian Bears

Some of you have followed with great interest the saga of our household improvements over the past nine months. January's delivery of a new refrigerator had a sequel with today's delivery. This morning, I was greeted by a pair of sleek and stout Russian delivery boys who installed my sleek and stout new range. It replaces the wretched little Crosley that those cheapo developers left me when I bought this place 12 years ago.

These Russian dudes were probably in diapers when the Berlin Wall fell and were cordial but intriguingly cocky. When I pointed them towards the kitchen, the lead delivery guy raised his eye brows and asked, "Could you escort me there?" I was tempted to ask him to clutch his bear claw at my elbow, but I thought that might be pushing my luck. When I saw his pushing the range forward repeatedly at his waist while grunting in Russian, I had to leave the room.

It took barely 10 minutes to be all set up, and I hope some of my culinary-inclined blogger friends might volunteer to come teach me all the wondrous potential of this new tool.

Meanwhile, Bow is trying to wrap her mind around the accompanying miniature version of the kitchen.

On the Set

Sittin' Around, Hangin' Out, Doin' Our Thang

To learn more

www.reacjapan.com

or

Chamalyn where Mae claims the balloon couch I bought is one of only three on the face of the planet. (Oh, and be sure to watch your step as you return to 19th Street.)