Louis XV and the Flying Table

Louis XV was a very shy and private man. He had ten children with his wife, Marie Leczinska. Attentive at first, but later he only acknowledged her in the accompaniment of others. He would, however, visit her privately for a few minutes each day. This was a time when pandering to a king was an honorable calling, finding girls from the gutter, scrubbing them up with soap and giving them to the king was not unusual. Louis XV was busy for quite some time. Louis chose very wisely with his first official mistress Mme. de Pompadour. Although a plebeian by birth, her taste helped to set the style of the court. She surrounded herself with a superabundance of the finest paintings, furnishings and porcelains and accompanied the king when he commissioned items for the court.

Although their physical affair did not last long, she met the king’s needs in every other way discussing politics, business and hunting. She studied the lives of the previous king’s mistresses learning lessons of their successes and their failures. Mme. de Pompadour was not supplanted by an equal rival for some time and was considered the king’s “special friend”. She purchased items from an allowance from the king and borrowed from the royal court. She established good credit with them borrowing and borrowing again. Primarily, she invested wisely. Mme. de Pompadour was only 42 when she died leaving an enormous collection behind. It took two notaries and several experts nearly a good year to list an inventory of her possessions. And it took more than eight months to sell everything at auction.

Even just special friends, both Louis XV and Mme. De Pompadour enjoyed privacy and dining in quiet, small spaces together. Louis hired architect Agne-Jacques Gabriel to construct the Petite Trianon -- a masterpiece characterized by soberness, order, and perfection. The structure was a complete break with rococo style. Gabriel planned for the inside to have a very convenient service -- a dining room with a very unique floor.

Allegedly, the first modern elevator was built in 1743 as a way for Louis XV to skitter around undetected and allow for clandestine meetings with various mistresses. This same elevator idea was to be employed in the Petit Trainon. An area of the floor of the dining room was to be decorated with a rosette pattern. At any given signal, Louis could have his servants slide the floorboards back revealing an opening through the floor. A table rose from the room below dressed with elaborate porcelain dinnerware and scrumptious food. When a course was finished, Louis could give another signal and the table would slowly descend. Each new course was set upon the table and rose again. This ingenious idea was devised to exclude the need of any servants disturbing him during intimate dinners. This “flying Table" (table volant) was equipped with two shelves, a drawer filled with utensils and, of course, a cooler for wine.

Mme de Pompadour wasn’t able to enjoy dining with the new contraption, she died in 1764. Only the exterior walls of the structure were completed by her death.

Margot: Queen of Hearts

Marguerite de Valois (1553 - 1615)

Known as Margot by her family, she was a daughter of a king, a sister of three kings, sister-in-law of another king and a wife of a king. She was among the most vilified women in French history. Accused of having an insatiable sexual appetite, also added to the list of accusations was incest, corruption, murders, treason, and the cause of the political disintegration of France.

Many lies were said about her. Protestant propaganda deemed her as a whore living a decadent life. Catholic propaganda cast her as a woman of dubious faith who committed unspeakable with her brothers in order to gain power. One of her brothers accused her of inappropriate behavior with a lady-in-waiting and later conspired against her. Her mother, Catherine de’ Medici, said she was born on an evil day.

It is difficult to know the real truth. Women were mere pawns in the royal game of power.

Chronicles document that she was one of the most beautiful women of her time; and most noted for her intelligence and learning. Unique, dynamic and daring, she enjoyed wearing various colored wigs -- pink, lilac, purple and red -- to dances and parties. When she was older and her natural color turned gray, she wore powdered wigs sprinkled real gold, the flecks catching in the sunlight.

She wrote a memoir and poetry. And even in an age where licentiousness ran mad, her morals were lax -- she was known for her string of lovers.

In an attempt to bring a peace between Catholics and Protestants, the 19 year old Catholic Margot married the French Hugenot, Henri de Bourbon, King of Navarre, on August 18, 1572. A Catholic-Huguenot marriage was controversial and irregular. It was said the couple looked straight ahead during the ceremony, never looking at one another. Margot married him with a forced nod by an older brother's hand upon her head shaking it up and down. Henri spent most of his time outside the church during the mass. Just six days after the wedding, Saint Bartholomew's Day Massacre occurred. The wedding offered an opportunity for the most wealthy and prominent Huguenots to attend and linger in Paris. Wedding celebrations would go on for days back then. The massacres spread throughout Paris, to other urban centres and then to the countryside. It lasted several weeks. Tens of thousands of Protestants were killed.

Margot hid several Hugenots in her rooms, including her new husband, not answering to her Catholic mother or any of the assassins. Henri's mother, Jeanne d'Albret, Queen of Navarre, had opposed the marriage, but traveled to attend the wedding. She never got to see her son married dying under mysterious circumstances. Some say Margot's mother killed her with a gift of poisoned gloves.

Shortly after their marriage Henri took a mistress. He was known to neglect Margot. By 1575, the couple's relations were no longer physical: "I could not endure the pain that I felt," Margot wrote, "and I stopped sleeping with the King my husband". Then she took a lover too. Henri didn’t mind her love affairs as it allowed him ample opportunity to pursue his numerous mistresses.

But her brother Henri III did.

Margot's lovers all died violent deaths. Beheaded, hanged, dismembered or wounded. It was said that Margot saved the heart of each lover and had them embalmed carefully storing them away in gold boxes which she would tuck in little pockets sewn on the inside of her hoop skirt. She spent much of her life apart from Henri in the castle of Cazeneuve, near Bordeaux. She would sneak off at night through a secret passage to a cave on the River Ciron where she would meet her young lovers. Henri IV, king for over a decade, divorced her in 1599 because she was unable to provide him a succession to the throne.

However, after 20 years of an estranged marriage followed by divorce, Margot and Henri became good friends. He let her keep her title after he remarried and gave her a large allowance. The Queen in her fifties never slowed down with her boyfriends.

Her famous words: Is it a crime to love? Is it right to punish me for it? There are no ugly loves, no more than there are beautiful prisons!

Mad for the Merrie Monarch Style

Charles II was popularly known as the Merrie Monarch. He brought with him liveliness and hedonism to his court. There was a sense of relief when he was crowned in 1660. There was a return to normality after over a decade of harsh Puritanism rule by Oliver Cromwell. The Merrie Monarch did not have children with his wife Catherine of Braganza whom he often neglected with his licentious ways, but he acknowledged at least 12 illegitimate children by various mistresses.

It was sometime during the reign of Merrie Monarch that the English really began to appreciate Chinese art. The Portuguese were the first to bring back items from China and Japan a century earlier. They even set up trading spots to supply all of Europe. However, it wasn’t until the 1600s when some pieces trickled into England. By the second half of the century, lacquered objects were imported into Britain on a large scale. Astonished by the refined quality and exotic beauty, the English could not get enough of this lacquer work. Artists who had a chance to take home some of these imported objects such as blue and white porcelain, lacquer screens and cabinets immediately copied the patterns with the utmost and precise detail. They didn’t know how it was done. That didn’t matter. They were crazy for it so they imitated the look.

Cabinet and chair makers began to use Chinese elements for decoration on their own pieces of furniture. Imported Chinese furnishings didn’t fit with their uses, with other pieces of furniture and they weren’t in scale with their houses. But the Chinese style was painted onto their furniture forms. This exotic look must have seemed especially fitting to the rich, decorative style of the Baroque times.

As the standard of life began to rise, people wanted this Chinese lacquer look in their homes. Lacquer cabinets were the most highly prized pieces of furniture during the Restoration time. The decoration was alluring and flawless. It was bazaar at the same time fascinating. But it also came with a very hefty price tag which remained out of reach for all but the very wealthy.

Methods of production were written down in recipe books and provided guidance for the professional as well as for the amateur. John Stalker and George Parker published A Treatise of Japanning and Varnishing; it was a very popular buy for the amateur decorator as well as the professional cabinet-maker. Japanning, as it was called, was considered a very elegant occupation for a lady. Women japanned anything and everything from chairs to candlestands to little boxes.

What else to do with this stylish look? Oak wainscoting had gone out of fashion. Tapestry was rather expensive and it wasn’t readily available in custom-made sizes. European wallpapers already existed but were not widespread in use –- the pattern a bit clunky made from woodblock prints. A Chinese paper hanging was an idea but they were scarce, delicate and hard to come by. Textiles from Holland such silks, calico and chintz were used frequently but people were looking for something new.

For the ultra wealthy who could afford Chinese screens, sometimes they would disassemble them and line the walls of a small dressing room or closet. Hampton Court, Chatsworth and Burghley all had lacquered rooms before the century closed. In 1682, one unidentified house in England used screens as wainscoting in a hallway. And the likes of which I would love to have seen.

This idea spread throughout Europe to Germany and even as far north as Copenhagen.

In the 1660's the highly fashion-conscious Frederik III and Sophie Amalie had the wall panels and doors painted in the "Chinese" style of their shared bedroom. The green lacquered panels have gold drawings.

But (for me) the most intriguing look of all is japanned leather wall coverings. Leather was durable and very practical and, unlike today, it was priced reasonably. Before leather wall hangings were ornamented by embossing patterns into it with a wooden block. It was decided that japanning leather made a suitable background for rooms. The skins, plentiful and cheap, were first covered with silver leaf, and then glued together. Once dry the silver was burnished then a yellow varnish was brushed over to give it a more gilded and glowing look. An all over design was applied by oil paint. Patterns frequently found on blue and white porcelain pieces were adapted. Very popular in England, these leather wall hangings must have looked spectacular glistening from the reflected candlelight.

Though located in Germany in the hall of Schloss Finckenstein (the name doesn’t roll off the tongue easily does it?), this wall hanging was allegedly copied from English ones. And though I will admit, I love the look and feel of leather but hate to think where it comes from, I am dying to see this in color.

We don’t have time anymore to develop the skill to adorn our walls or furniture or even small objects. It is a shame. It is interesting to note that many of us -- if forced to choose even in this dismal economy -- would pass over a large, practical piece of furniture for a sentimental little object our grandmothers made years ago -- a little decoupage handbag with a bakelite handle, a small mirror with a seashell frame or a small needle pointed rug. Only the biggest and grandest pieces of japanned furniture seem to have survived. I wonder what happened to the smaller, more sentimental bits someone’s mother or grandmother made four centuries ago.

Dragons and Eileen Gray, a New Definition

When ever I think of dragons, I think of the fire-breathing dragon on Looney Tunes who sneezed on things charring them up from strands fire coming out of his nose. After reading about the realized price of Eileen Gray's Dragon Chair very late last night, I might -- after all these years -- have to reconsider my imagery of Yosemite Sam's green companion to Eileen Gray's chair.

I watched Obama's speech addressed to Congress last night and I wouldn't have guessed another auction record could be broken considering the world's current doom and gloom economic conditions. The Dragon Chair (1917-1919) by Eileen Gray was purchased yesterday in Paris at the Yves Saint Laurent auction at Christie's for $28,341,909 -- that's about $25 million more than the estimate which was between $2,587,711 - $3,881,567. (Converting from Euros.)


Yowsa! Is all I can say...

(Apparently there was a bit of a bidding war between a bidder on the phone and one on the floor. The one on the floor won -- who was the dealer who sold it to YSL in the first place in the early 1970s.)

Tastes have certainly changed for connoisseurs of furniture... In the past decade or so, the general market for antiques has weakened. Many antiques have been going for a quarter of what it fetched just a year ago. People don’t want the traditional stuff anymore. Most antique stores have had to close their doors. Modern and Contemporary are the most sought-after. Open any interior design magazine and you’ll find an eclectic array of twentieth century pieces. Magazines, television shows, internet bloggers, retail and auction venues have been calling attention to long forgotten designers. Once an item is identified by a particular designer the interest as well as the price goes up. Original limited edition pieces in the past few years have become extremely sought after over the mass-produced designs by creators for Herman Miller and Knoll.


Eileen Gray certainly has received her long overdue recognition. There have been several publications about her in the past few years. But what I remember most is when her fantastic black lacquered screen which was estimated to fetch between $400,000-$600,000 was snagged for $1.2 million. This was just a small handful of years back. $1.2 million, wow, I thought. That's pocket change compared to now.

Originally from Ireland, Eileen Gray moved to France to create and consort with other artists, designers and writers. She is considered one of the most prolific designers of the early 20th-century. She was independent, educated, fiercely creative, a non-conformist, and determined to blaze a new path. Her furniture creations are tremendously unique. You can read about a house she designed on So Lovely's blog.

And you can watch the Looney Tunes original dragon here:

Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner? Silver from Hall’s

There was once a time, not too long ago, when the young with career ambitions hightailed it to big cities in pursuit of an urban, work hard and play hard existence. Domestic bliss was dated. Promotions, cocktails and reckless pursuits are how this generation preferred to live. Once they felt good about their careers, then they thought about settling down. But they didn't register for wedding china, etched crystal water goblets or frilly sterling flatware. They went out with friends and ordered fancy drinks; they didn't sit at home planning menus and elaborately decorating the dining table.

But are things beginning to change? Daughters and sons of the baby boom generation are yearning for a little more tradition in their lives. Those of us a bit older (and wiser) are beginning to wish we had listened to our Grandmothers more as they explained why we were to put our forks where. People are staying home and inviting friends over. Entertaining has become an art again. A bag of baby carrots with a container of sour cream sprinkled with onion mix, or a croc pot filled with Velveeta and Ro-tel isn’t the most creative way to entertain. No more tapping a keg and pouring beer into plastic cups, people are thinking about unique recipes to try and creative ways to set the table. Many will spend a Saturday afternoon watching the Food Network Channel for novel ideas.

As this recession has taken hold, we are beginning to gravitate toward the home and becoming more concerned with our own domestic issues. We're breaking away from a Gatsby-esque market and figuring out ways to reuse and recycle.

Why not look to the past for ideas and ways to reuse what has gone before us? Let's bring back the tradition of fine dining and appreciate the items that have once adorned a beautifully set table. Granted, the Victorians went a little overboard creating a specialized tool for every condiment, pickle or spice, but dining has become a dying art. Shouldn't we appreciate the objects once used?

Hall’s on the Country Club Plaza in Kansas City has quite a collection of silver plated hollowware. Any one of these items would put a little sparkle to a table setting. The great Patricia Shakelford and I jaunted to Hall’s to meet with Melissa Fritz last week. We decided we would pick out five of our favorites -- we liked many of the same things.

The Victorian notion of appropriate goods to set the table is no longer practiced today. Each object displayed or used once had meaning to a specific activity. When we see some of these objects today, it is their strangeness that makes us pause. This does not mean we can't find new and different ways to use these intriguing objects.


I’M A LITTLE TEAPOT

If a respectable Victorian bachelor dined away from his parent’s table, he was most likely at the club. He didn’t have the equipment to cook at home for one. A bachelor couldn’t be bothered by pots and pans. However, the one piece that every proper gentleman must possess was the teapot.

by Joseph Benwell Clark, The Bachelor's Breakfast Table, 1885

This English example from Hall’s is by Walker and Hall circa 1880 and is based on an eighteenth century Georgian ovoid form. The body has chased tassels and swags and even the once eligible bachelor's initials engraved. It is fitted with a C-loop wooden handle and finial.

SOUP TUREEN OR CENTERPIECE?

Weather serving lobster bisque or chicken chili, any variety of soup would be well presented in this lovely boat-shaped tureen. These simple lines make for a smashing table centerpiece. Keep the lid on or fill it with ivy. I love the scalloped foot and the loop handles with flat tops. It lacks any of the heavy Victorian ornamentation for an item dating around 1875. Although it is missing the original spoon, any large spoon would suffice. Place it on your table, or arrange it with a lamp and a stack of small cloth-bound books on your dresser.

CARVING SET

Something many households are amiss is a good carving set. This three-piece American set by Continental circa 1900 has horn handles and sterling silver scrolling strap work overlay. I love this set. I find it very masculine. What a special utensil for the host to carve the holiday turkey.

NUTS OVER A NUT DISH

Another fun example for a table centerpiece, this item might have once been used as an large dish for nuts. It could be used to hold business cards today. The practice of dropping off cards during the Victorian times is an interesting one. There was an entire card leaving ritual with strict codes of behavior. Leaving cards in ornate sterling or silver plated recepticles was a crucial component to maintain an active social life. There were definitions of good taste -- these tid bits of paper were carefully examined. The font could not be too ostentations nor too plain.

COCKTAILS ANYONE?

This is a tray from the Aesthetic Movement and is perfect inside or out for your next shin-dig to set out a few glasses. It also makes a sharp presentation for food. Think of red and green grapes with a wheel of brie on this oversized tray. When not in use, put the tray on its side and use as a backing for a vase of flowers or plant.

Gustave Caillebotte, Luncheon, 1876
Private collection

Caillbotte has composed the figures tightly around a table allowing for us, as the viewer, to feel part of this scene. As if we were literally sitting at the table. Although many of the items in this painting are glass, it reminds us how each object was used. Mrs. Blanding’s choice of the compote would look marvelous with some fruit nestled in it on this table.

Next time we covet a larger flat screen TV or a new iPod, let us pause for a moment and think about the inherent beauty a silver object possesses and how we can incorporate these items into our daily lives. We spend so much money on electronics in an attempt to make our lives easier, but what about the enrichment of gazing upon a silver object. (At least these objects possess some value as they age -- unlike most electronics.) If someone special says to you: "What do you want for your birthday?" Remember that lovely silver piece. Or even treat yourself.

(Top image: by Alfred Edward Emslie, Dinner at Haddo House, 1884)

Vikings

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle reported the year 793 began with visions of frightening omens, lightening storms, high winds, famine and flying dragons. In June, from across the sea, three Viking ships left Scandinavia and arrived on the shore of England. A high ranking official had been sent to greet them but he was killed on the spot.

The Vikings approached the monastery. They did not come to pray with the monks. They slaughtered them then grabbed everything of value: gold and silver chalices, silk vestments and altar cloths.

"And they came to the church of Lindisfarne, laid everything waste with grievous plundering, trampled the holy places with polluted feet, dug up the altars and seized all the treasures of the holy church. They killed some of the brothers; some they took away with them in fetters; many they drove out, naked and loaded with insults; and some they drowned in the sea."


This tragedy is the first clearly dated event in the saga of the Vikings. But it wasn't the last. The years 795, 802 and 805 saw raids on the island of Iona off of Scotland. The British Isles costs were dotted with monasteries, rich and ripe to attract Viking raiders.

By 820, the Irish Annals of Ulster recorded: "The sea spewed forth floods of foreigners over Erin, so that no haven, no landing-place, no stronghold, no fort, no castle might be found, but it was submerged by waves of Vikings and pirates."

From 830 to 860, Vikings attacked almost every single year. An Irish King, Aed Finnliath, fought back with his troops destroying the Viking settlements in the north. The Vikings moved south and ravaged monasteries and sanctuaries, destroying and stealing books and reliquaries are they went. In 867, a monastery in Scotland was raided. News reached the Mother Superior who gathered her nuns around urging them to disfigure themselves in hopes to prevent being violated. She cut off her nose and upper lip and the nuns proceeded to do the same. The Vikings were repelled and burned the entire building to the ground with the nuns inside.

Even monasteries set on inland rivers were thought to be secure. They fell victim to the Vikings. Their graceful, narrow, lightweight and virile looking longships could row upstream. These boats were fast and could be navigated in waters barely over three feet deep. They could quickly dock and were light enough carry over ground. They traveled from Ireland to Russia, Iceland to Greenland and even as far west as Newfoundland.

The Vikings did not destroy, demolish and devastate because they could. They organized and strategized to colonize these lands. The vigor, vitality and restlessness that the Vikings showed in their raids spilled over to their art. The metal work, stone and wood carvings leave behind a characteristic quite opposite of that of the merciless and brutal barbarian. Their style had gracefully curving and intertwining lines. It was expressive and dynamic. Contorted and distorted. Deftly carved, very controlled and creates a memorizing rhythm.

Only a small number of Viking objects survive.

I've always had a thing for the Vikings. When I first learned about them in my budding pre-pubescent years in history class, I had a crush on Leif Ericsson as my other classmates were pining over David Cassidy.

I didn’t know about the nuns. They didn’t tell us about that in the fifth grade.

These manliest of men who weathered extreme and harsh freezing conditions, also kept themselves quite well groomed. The Irish said they had the strangest habits -- upon rising they washed their faces and trimmed their beards. Even their nose hairs. There is archaeological evidence of ear scoops.

They fastened their capes or fur-lined cloaks with intricate and ornate broaches.

Women fastened house keys to their broach as a sign of authority and rank. Keys were a symbol of female power while the sword was the sign for the man.

A Viking woman had rights in those days. Although she had no say who she could marry and her expected vocation was to run a household, she could divorce her husband if he mistreated her or her children. She could divorce him if he was lazy, a good-for-nothing provider or if insulted her family. The process of divorce was quite simple. All she had to do was call a witness and proclaim she was divorced from her husband at the front door and at their bed. Save on lawyer's fees. Everything a woman brought into a marriage was hers. It did not become the property of her husband. This must have saved quite a bit of time and energy from fighting over things when splitting up. Women even kept their last name upon marrying.

Not much furniture survived. Some beds were made to be quickly broken down and set up again on ships. Some had ornately carved and painted head-posts.

These stylized animals are fascinating. They cannot be identified in the natural world. Many designs of these animals were called Gripping Beast taking on a dragon like appearance. As time went on, the animal forms became thinner, more sinuous and began to arch sharply.

I don't know why people are attracted to various applied arts from different cultures. Some objects can strike a deep chord within us in just a moment, while other objects leave us tepid. But when it strikes it never seems to leave us, despite horrific stories about the people who made them.

Images: Book of Lindisfarne, Viking Ship from Illuminated Manuscript, Oseberg longship from the Oslo Museum, broaches from the Met Museum, Oseberg state beds from a museum in Norway,(reproduction).

Interesting mini-films on PBS of the recreation of Viking villages: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/vikings/village.html

John Thain: America's New Sun King

Louis XIV (1638–1715), by Charles Le Brun

On July 18, 1668 in the gardens of Versailles, Louis XIV threw quite a fête for himself to celebrate his military victories. "Le Grand Divertissement royal," it was called, and cost one-third the yearly budget of Versailles. Royal parties were expensive. So Louis raised taxes -- relying heavily on the peasants -- and forced prosperous towns to pay homage of huge sums.

The Sun King was well known for his opulent extravagance. This is best exemplified by the construction of his palace at Versailles, his Hall of Mirrors and over the top baroque furnishings. Louis' motivation was not based just on his eye for luxury, but it was also a way of controlling the nobility, reducing their power and keeping a sharp eye for any potential rivals. Louis was flattered by all as much as he was feared. He insisted on his particular daily rituals, the Levee and the Coucher. Around 8:30 am the king, resting in his bed, would hear: “It is time, Sire”. The levee was a ceremonial rising just for him. Doctors, family and a few favored friends entered the king's bedroom where he was washed, combed, shaven and dressed. Then he slurped down a breakfast of broth with everyone standing around. It was estimated the attendants numbered one hundred, all male. At 11:30 pm, The Coucher, was performed -- a reverse, shortened version of the levee to celebrate Louis retiring to bed.

Skip to nearly four-and-a-half centuries later in America and I can’t help to see some similarities. John Thain’s task last year was to oversee the sale of Merrill Lynch to Bank of America Corporation and take over the bank's wealth management and corporate and investment banking divisions. He had to reduce expenses and fix the security firm. In order to get his wits about him, he needed to spend $1.2 million of the bank's money to lavishly redecorate his Merrill Lynch office while major layoffs were looming and the firm was going down in flames.

Thain hired (the fabulous) Michael Smith for $800,000 to create an environment where he could adequately think about this mess. Smith procured two area rugs for a total of $131,000, two guest chairs for $87,000, a nineteenth-century sideboard (mistakenly called a ‘credenza’) for $68,000, four pairs of drapes at $28,000, Roman shades for $11,000, a mahogany pedestal table at $25,000, a George IV Desk for $18,000, a sofa for $15,000; a custom coffee table for $16,000; Regency Chairs for $24,000 (personally, I question if they were period and designers out there: is this appropriate for a commercial application?); 40 yards of fabric for wall panels for $5,000, six wall sconces for $2,700, and a parchment covered trash can for $1,400.

In his private dining room he ordered six chairs for $37,000, a mirror for $5,000, and a chandelier for $13,000. And lastly, a $35,000 "commode on legs." (I assume this means a toilet and not a French dresser.)

Thain signed off on the purchases, as well as, "Labor to relamp the six wall sconces" for $3,000, and another payment of $30,000 to pay additional expenses Smith had incurred.

Michael Smith is being paid $100,000 to redecorate for the Obamas, which includes items from Target. (According to The Daily Beast), by the way.

We live in a society where an outrageous level of compensation is a justifiable reward for executives. Apparently, this level of extravagance is standard operating behavior. And apparently, high-profile CEO’s have the power, magnitude and all the glory of kings.

Are the rest of us mere peasants? According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics the national average salary is a little over $40,000, or in other words, approximately one thirtieth of Thain's expenses for the redecoration of his office.

Bank of America received $25 billion in bailout funds and then an additional $20 billion mid January while Thain spent $1.2 million to have his office redecorated out of the profits of the company as previous employers he axed were out of work. Merrill Lynch lost $56 billion from sub prime loans and the credit crisis, so what’s another $1.2 million, eh John? As Marie-Antoinette allegedly uttered a century later, “Let them eat cake?” – and we all know what happened to her.

Hey Thain, what principles were this great country founded upon?

(Thain resigned at the end of last month after being found out and has vowed to repay the funds. Must be a drop in the ocean from his end-of-the-year bonus.)

Amy Lau's Dexter Chairs: I have no positive comment.

I know Amy Lau's chairs she designed for the set of Dexter is old news. I didn't know about them until I nabbed the March 2009 issue of Metropolitan Home in an airport to put off having to do work on the little, often times very sticky pull-down tray tables on the plane. (By the way, Midwest Express did NOT stock the warm chocolate chip cookies this time and I was very disappointed.) I've seen half an episode of Dexter once. So I am not that familiar with the show, although I've heard a few people rave about it. But I could not stop thinking about the chairs and why I was so disturbed by them. I'm a huge fan of the clean neoclassical-styled lines, as well as white lacquer with a splash of color. But color and shape to resemble red splattered blood? I can't do it. Would anyone include a set around their dining room table? Or even tucked in the corner of a room?

These limited edition chairs are upholstered in white ultraleather and embroidered with a blood stain that has seeped through the back. You can purchase them through the Spring Gallery, in Brooklyn, New York for a mere $5,000 each.

How about a set of dinnerware to match? At this point, I am not even pausing to try to understand the appeal. My apologies if I seem like a sissy. I have to turn my head away when my dog gets a shot at the vet's. I would no more eat off of one of these regardless how flop-sweat, dizzy and dying starving I might be. For those a tad intrigued, you can purchase them here (click on 'Dexter', then click on the image to view the whole place setting...) I'm off to chew on a Rolaids. Just the image makes my stomach turn.

Harmony in Blue and Gold

Rooms that are created by designers and artists are rarely named, unlike a work of art, or a piece of mass marketed furniture. However, one room in particular was. (And with a juicy, scandalous story behind it.) I've been waiting some years to see it, and I finally did at the Freer Gallery in Washington DC. The interior design of rooms is so fleeting, composed of everyday objects like paint, fabric, ornaments, furniture and knickknacks. They can change as quickly in color and detail as the leaves on a tree. While the initial visual impact may be memorable, its longevity is limited and subject to the whims of popular taste. Charles Lang Freer (1854-1919) recognized a masterpiece of a room and had to have it, as is. He purchased the Peacock Room in 1904. It was painstakingly taken apart and reassembled in his house in Detroit. What is so interesting about interior design is that it is much more than a space filled with furniture, color and ornamentation. It tells the story of the designer who created it, the clients who commissioned it and the people who lived in it. The Peacock Room (1876-1877) was all that.

Sunflower andirons by Thomas Jeckyll, from around 1876. Picture from the New York Times. The room started in London with Thomas Jeckyll, a creative and innovative mid-to-late nineteenth century architect, furniture designer and metalwork designer, who has largely faded into obscurity. Mainly because many of his projects were destroyed or radically altered, in particular the dining room he designed for the London home of the wealthy shipping magnate Frederick R. Leyland. Arrangement in Black: Portrait of F.R. Leyland by James McNeill Whistler, (1870-1873). In the Freer Gallery. Leyland wanted his valuable collection of Chinese porcelains to be showcased in his dining room. His collection consisted of Qing-dynasty pieces, primarily from the Kangxi period (1662-1722), in an assortment of shapes and sizes. Jeckyll constructed an étagère of sorts – with beautifully intricate carved shelving with varying heights to frame each piece of porcelain. He then tacked up antique leather on the walls. Supposedly, leather salvaged from the wreck of the Spanish Armada in 1588, which an antique dealer who sold it to him had claimed. Jeckyll painted a few pomegranates and flowers on it but left the natural rich, dark color. A painting by James McNeill Whistler (1834-1903) called La Princesse du pays de la porcelaine (The Princess from the Land of Porcelain) was placed above the fireplace, (see top photo). Leyland commissioned quite a few works from Whistler and they soon became friends. Whistler, Self-Portrait, (1872). Once Whistler's Painting of the Princess was framed and neatly affixed to the wall, and Leyland's prized collection of blue and white porcelain was each carefully put into place, the doors leading into the dining room still needed to be done. Jeckyll asked Whistler, who was working on decorations for the entrance hall of the house, for his advice. Whistler scratched his head, sighed and said he was unhappy with the muted paint of the flowers on the wall and wished to paint over it in yellow and gold to bring out the color of his painting. Leyland, a very busy man, agreed. Whistler still wasn't happy and Leyland gave him permission to paint a wave pattern above the wainscoting. Believing the room was almost finished; Leyland went back to his business in Liverpool. But Whistler changed a lot more. He covered the ceiling with gold leaf, and on top of that he painted a pattern of peacock feathers. He also gilded Jeckyll’s walnut shelving. Jeckyll was long gone from the house at this point. Whistler knew exactly what to do about Jeckyll’s door quandary – he painted four fantastically plumed peacocks against a shining gold ground, two on each set of doors. Whistler was thrilled with himself and wrote to Leyland that his dining room was "really alive with beauty — brilliant and gorgeous while at the same time delicate and refined to the last degree." He urged Leyland not to hurry his return to London as was not entirely finished with the room and did not want to spoil the surprise. In the meantime, once he had completed the room Whistler invited friends over to view it, printed up a pamphlet and distributed it all over London for people to come see it. He even held press conferences in the room. Apparently Mrs. Leyland, who remained in the house, didn’t mind. Was she a bit smitten by the arrogant, bad boy artist? Leyland returns and does not find it "alive with beauty". He becomes irate. Whistler smugly sends him a bill twice of what the original antique red leather walls procured by Jeckyll cost. Leyland pays Whistler, but only half the amount. This does not sit well with the artist.

Leyland leaves the house again and Whistler somehow gains entrance once more. (Perhaps because he was on friendly terms with Leyland’s wife?) Whistler felt the leather walls would look better in Prussian blue and began to coat all the leather walls with paint. On the opposing wall from the Princess painting, Whistler depicted two more peacocks fighting each other -- one with money under his claw and silver feathers on his throat which signified the ruffled shirts Leyland always wore. The other peacock squawking in defiance with a silver crest feather that resembles the lock of white hair which curled above Whistler's forehead.

Leyland banned Whistler from the house and Whistler was never to see the room again. But he continues his alleged affair with Mrs. Leyland.

The Leylands separated shortly afterwards. Despite all the controversy, Leyland kept his dining room as is and continued filling the shelves with porcelain until his death.

The redecoration of Jeckyll's room generated lasting praise for Whistler and completely overshadowed Jeckyll's considerable role in the creation of dining room.

When Jeckyll saw what Whistler had done, he fled from the house and was reported to be found babbling while frantically working gilding his own floor at home in his bedroom. He died soon afterwards in an asylum. Whistler was reported to have said: "That's the effect I have on people".

Symphony in Flesh Colour and Pink: Portrait of Mrs Frances Leyland (1872-1873) at the Frick. Although there are no hard facts that Whistler and Frances Leyland had a roll in the hay, it is interesting to note that Whistler has given more time an attention to the great detail on Mrs. Leyland's dress (which he chose for her to wear) rather than the details of her face...