Pretend its dark out and you're all alone. You've been walking for miles without food or water....in the rain and there is a big black lump where your heart should be. You are sick with loneliness and hunger and cold. Pretend then that in that bilious moment you see a little light and a door and something moving inside, slowly.
You stumble into this place...with some people...and every corner is alive...
with something antithetical to that cold night and your heart starts to beat again.
The dark is gone and every surface is screaming to be licked or rubbed or squeezed or scraped.
Outside and in....
Warmth and beauty grow like fungus
on every surface...in every corner something is wrapped or cradled
the quiet and outrageous sit side by side...confident in their individuality
there are distinctions
There are colors
The edges of these distinctions, of the colors and materials - everything at those thresholds become highly viscous
and the places to play sempiternal.
Tea and paint and dog and lights
rules are broken and made with great love, and humor and great attention to taste
I want to eat many of the surfaces in this house.
I want to know all it's corners
I'm in love with all it's details