Magical Mysore Market - INTERVAL

I got sidetracked by a couple little things today so will wait till Monday to post Magical Mysore Market Part 2.

Meanwhile a little preview:

Marie Claire Maison - Greatest Hits

So as I've said before, this is NOT a decorating blog.  But I will admit to having a terrible weakness for imagery OF EVERY KIND.  If you are a complete stranger and I come to your house, I will be very happy to immediately view your photo albums.  And I am one of those people known to purchase the leftovers of other peoples' albums at flea markets.  I DO have a Collier Brothers type predilection for printed matter.  And piling that matter up in precarious towers.  And, I AM a girl.  (In case there was any doubt.)  And we do obsess about our "interior lives".  Inexplicably so far hard-wired to do so it seems.

So imagine, I've lived in four different houses in the past five years.  So what has followed me every step along the way? What has had my movers groaning and swearing and sweating and doubled over in consternation? Apparently my devotion is such to tidy little packets of glossy imaging (100 copies of World of Interiors, 50 Martha Stewart Livings, 30 copies each of British Homes and Gardens, British House and Gardens, Living etc., Gardens Illustrated, Elle Decoration UK, Maison Madame Figaro, Elle Decoration - France and US, Metropolitan Home, Gardens Illustrated and yes, Domino - do you get the idea now?)  is such  that there was never a question ever of finding a capacious rubbish receptacle somewhere along the way that could welcome them.  Never any determination that they might have outlived their useful lives, "faded relics of another existence" etc.  No indeed, my magical world of colored pictures remains as relevant to me now in the waning first decade of the 21st century as it did when I was "starter" house-ing in Jois-ey and has now found many treasured places in my L.A. home!  I shouldn't admit to all this but everyone has to have a little vice.  For others it's ummmm pricey handbags, or plastic surgery, watches, cars or, or, or superannuated chimpanzees?!  (Sorry that was in bad taste, but true.  I mean, I could have worse vices!)

So what has prompted this little confession?  Last week P. over at What Possessed Me:

http://www.whatpossessedme.com/

posted about Marie Claire Maison. And that re-MIND-ed me.  Since my move to L.A. and my discovery of its beautiful colors dovetailed with my discovery of the wonderful world of BLOG,  it has not strictly been necessary for me to daily pore over colorful images of homes and places I will never ever visit or live in.  This has saved me a lot of pocket money.  But I had to admit, when P. raved over the wildly creative and colorful flower scrim that she had discovered in the pages of MCM I had to reexamine my loyalties.  I spend less time in train stations these days and so accordingly less time in newsagents' perusing, perusing.  So the immediately obvious thing to do was to go treasure hunting in my own back bookcase.

And what little jewels I found!   I was not disappointed.  So today being my birthday, AT LEAST TODAY,  I can claim my birth-right as an American to mindless indulgence, and since it has become apparent that I will not after all be speeding out to Vegas in my sleeveless dress to dine with Joel Robuchon (sorry Jo!)  instead I will MAKE A PARTY!  (in the NY vernacular.)  A party of MCM greatest hits pics out of my personal collection.  They cover not just decorating but also food and travel.  All of which the editorial staff at Marie Claire Maison do with such originality and wit.  I do also think, and this is what I particularly love about France in general, that they do RUSTIC and REFINED so well.  It's an esthetic that brings me to my knees generally (sometimes literally - as in examining fabulously sculptural terra cotta rhubarb cloches) and which I find so inspirational and refreshing.  Like a long walk in the woods that opens out into breathtaking vistas and knocks the cobwebs out.

So voila!  Regalez-vous!  And channeling all those commentators last night who saw Thierry Henry hand-ball Ireland out of a World Cup place, oh-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-LA!!!!!!

Mes Passages Paradis MCM:

Everyone knows Andy Goldsworthy but do you know Nils Udo?  He sets up these artworks-in-nature and then he photographs them.

 I think he's a little more elegant than Andy Goldsworthy.

    Photo: Nils Udo - December '02-January '03 Edition

                      Photo: Marie-Pierre Morel - Sept/August '94

A passion for picassiettes.

            Photo: Guy Bouchet - Sept/August '94

A boat hull in Brittany looking like an African mask

Vive la fete!  Bon Anniversaire a moi!

                                      Festive Desserts Photo: Yukata Yamamoto - Dec07/Jan08

                                         Photo: Philippe Garcia Dec07/Jan 08

Dentelles en papiers.

                                             Photo: Alexandre Bailhache - July/Aug '92

Oeufs a emporter

                                              Photo: Arnault Descat - April '94

Meconopsis x sheldonii - Himalayan poppies

                                                    Photo: Ingalill Snit - November '95

                          Photo: Guy Bouchet - November'95

Jerusalem, a pub in E. London - Never been.  You?

Form at home with function.

   This Photo and Above: Eric Flogny/Aleph; Styling: Marion Bayle et Christine Puech - Sept'02

I haven't yet but someday I will have, a room in raspberry and saffron.  See the little jewel-colored tea lights along the windowsill?

Funky and fabulous.

       Photo: Nicholas Tosi - Dec'95/January'96

Alongside faded splendor.  Home of Francoise Nobele and Jean-Michel Smilenko

    Photo/Styling: No credit - Nov'03

Why didn't I think of this?  Tiled stools!  Tout simples!

                                       Photo: Vincent Leroux - Sept'03

Another chandelier TO DIE for!

                                           Photo: Yukata Yamamoto - Sept'03

Love these colors, may solve my bedroom decorating quandary.  I HAD thought I was going green.

    Photo: Vincent Leroux - Sept'03

It would SEEM like such a good idea to live in this little white house.  Until you had to schlep the groceries home.  On the Island of Halki, off Rhodes.

       Photo: Jean-Bernard Naudin - March'94

Do you know the Astier-de-Villatte white faience ceramics made in Chinon?  This is the family home a few years back.  The father makes the ceramic "tete-de-fille" sculptures.

Well that hit the spot for me.  Paradis Retrouve.  Tomorrow yes, more and final Mysore Magic.

(And yes, oh great-and-terrible Marie-Claire Maison.  I realize some of these photos may have not yet passed into the public domain.  I have reproduced them only in part and if you would like me to remove them I will.   (On the other hand, I'm giving you free publicity and I don't do that for EVERYBODY!)   If I must remove them, I hope they can be found in your archives via the little caption details I have provided.  Meilleurs sentiments,  Mlle. P)

Mysore's Magical Market - Part One

O.K. Well I hesitate somewhat because if I say it myself.  These pictures. THESE pictures.  I haven't looked at them for maybe a year. And they don't disappoint.  In fact I've discovered ones that I didn't think were such a big deal when I first took them.  But NOW!  !!!!!!!!  The people are so open.  And so happy in their holiday errands and anticipation of their big holiday.

I can't take alot of responsibility for the beauty in these pictures.  This is just a beautiful space.  The otherworldly color created in part by the blue tarps hanging over the stalls.

It filters the light and gives you the most perfect exposure that articulates and caresses at once.

It allows you little details and perfect rich colors.

And look at the vegetables, so tiny and sweet.  My husband asked someone why Indian food tastes SO GOOD in India. The answer:  because the vegetables are so fresh.  They don't come from far away.  They are harvested nearby and because water is so precious they are not allowed to grow into monsters.   They are little so all the flavor is concentrated in  them.  And they are delicate.

Now, I'm not exaggerating, am I, when I say, YOU MUST GO TO MYSORE!!!!!!!???????

Come back tomorrow for Mysore's Magical Market - Part Two.  And then after that, I'll just hang up my blog clogs cause nothing again will beat these pictures!  Hope you like 'em.

Mysore Street Scenes and Fireworks Market

Here is a chronicle of a day in Mysore.  Mysore is about two hours inland from Bangalore.  It is really quite a prosperous town and has been so historically.  It's last Maharajah was a very modern man and interested in everything new in terms of technology and business practices.  The Infosys campus is there, where tens of thousands of young Indian computer engineers are being trained and then employed, contributing to the prosperity of the locale. There is a well-known yoga school.  A famously vivid market.  There are several palaces in the town, but the main one is an example of beautiful Edwardian architecture, designed by an Englishman but incorporating astounding examples of both Indian and Western decor.

Photographs in the palace are not allowed, but if you are in Mysore, you must go. It is that much more beautfiul when you are visiting it with masses of Indian visitors because the ladies' sari colors harmonize so wonderfully with the interiors and the filtered light and turn it into fantasy-scape of shimmering filmy colors mostly of turquoise and lavender and blue.  With liberal sprinklings of gold.  It's an extraordinary experience.

We arrived in the full light of the afternoon.

Mysore was bustling with commerce.  Alongside the streetcorner shrines.

This is the sugar cane drink wallah.

Everyone had motorcycles.

It was the start of Diwali and the streets were lined with vendors and their marigold garlands.

In the town center everything could be found for sale.

And of course the latest Bollywood offerings were being advertised.

It's commonplace for women in southern India to adorn their hair daily with fresh jasmine.

As the day went on we found our way to the fireworks market.

Diwali is the festival of light and a combination of Christmas and New Year's

These pictures are blurry because evening was falling already when we reached this open field in the middle of town.

 I had to capture the kaleidoscopic nature of the colors created by the marquees and the shoppers' clothing.

This area was specially set up for fireworks sales.

Indian families will garland their homes for Diwali, hang colored lights up, light candles

in elaborate arrangements with flowers

and set off fireworks.  It's a very exciting time.

Wherever you are in the world, fireworks seem to bring out the kid in everyone.

Don't miss Mysore.  And come back soon for photos of the Mysore vegetable market.

Local Color - The Sequel

So I WAS telling you about what I LIKE about my neighborhood.  And being one of those "more is  more" people, you will probably hear a little on this subject again.

What do I like about my neighborhood?  Trees?  Sky?  The Plant Life.  Banana Trees.  Brugmansia.  Palms.  Figs.  ROSES.  Citrus trees.  Cacti.  Firs.  Bougainvillea.

Why do I like my neighborhood?  Because people can grow salvia here and the plants look like Carmen Miranda at an all night ball instead of some skinny girl who stuck her finger in a socket and fried off everything that was attached to the surface of her person.  I was a salvia hater before I came to Los Angeles.  Now I .......really.....get the point!

My neighborhood has diagonals.  I can look up and see something.  I can look down and see something entirely different.  What I see when I look across is something somewhat fragmented in the most charming ways.   Within my field of vision is an assemblage of interlocking parts that I could very easily grab ahold of and rearrange in myriad other pleasing ways.

My neighborhood has secret spaces

 and neglected corners.  

Nature encroaches.

Nature coaxes.

  Nature threatens.

Nature enthuses.

My neighborhood looks like the cover of the "Ladies of the Canyon" album.  There are layers and levels.

When I walk down the hill, I'm in town.

And when I walk up, I can channel my Italian peasant ancestors, climbing home to a hilltop village from their vines.

Lucky peasants.  Lucky me.  That's what I like about my neighborhood.  That I should be so lucky.

Local Color

What I DON'T like about my neighborhood are the latest developments:  last week across the street a piece of newspaper was spread across a small animal corpse on someone's front lawn.  How do I know it was a small animal corpse?  Surely because of the small bits of multi-colored fur scattered across the grass barely a yard away from the newspaper.  My neighbor came out as hubby and I were passing and was very discouraged.  She said it was the second one that week.  She does not have a six-foot fence.  Which I do.  Nonetheless, the FEAR of GOD struck me at 7 a.m. today.  I had been out of town for the weekend and last night when I got home, my two small critters clamored to be let out.  It was not to pass (dark already at 4:30 p.m.!) but this morning first thing we were outside, sniffing the grass and lounging in the soft early morning air.   At one point the "young lady" rushes the corner of the deck which conveniently joins the top of the south fence and then permits rapid access to another neighbor's yard.  (And to her, a paradise of squirrels and maybe a lizard or two.)  As I lunged after her to keep her from going over, I saw a coyote lope away down the hill.  Coyotes can leap six foot fences if they are hungry enough.  (EEEEK!!!!!!!!!)

The station fire seems to have put pressure on our local ecosystems.

What I DO LIKE about my neighborhood is the following:

Remember shamu?

This is the prettiest little street in this part of the world.

Is it just me or does this look like a cricket pavilion in some Indian hill station?

De-constructed or simply un-reconstructed?  A bit of both?

Recently reconstructed.  And very successfully I think.

Mondrian lives here too.

Exotic retreat?

A soupcon of spice.

Sunny side up.

Piece de resistance........it's all

Except for the coyotes.  And that's all folks!  From around my way!

Khajuraho Is Famous

For the erotic sculptures which ornament its city of stupas.  The sculptures rise in tiers up the faces of the stupas which sit in parklike grounds.  Khajuraho is located in a remote farming region and the stupas were "forgotten" for a very long time until British scholars came to know of them and put them on the art history map.

They were not all constructed at the same time.  In fact they represent successive periods in history and so styles.

They blend Far East Asian Buddhist traditions with Hindu traditions in terms of subject matter, styles of ornament and representation of figures.

And of course there is the anthropomorphism of Hindu iconography

Here is lovely Ganesh, the God of prosperity and luck doing what I think of as the "hippy-hippy shake" (missing some body parts)

and in a more lordly pose

You've probably seen this one on the sides of incense packets.

There is not as much ornamentation inside the stupas but the ceilings are usually representations of heaven.

There are also Jain temples in Khajuraho.  This faith depicts Buddha as a very much younger figure with a more boyish physique and I think that is a stylized Bodhi tree above his head.

Khajuraho is not really a town and the actual "old village" is quite small.  It can be visited in about 20 minutes.  When I visited, the people were still quite innocent country folk.  Although you will be shocked when your guide tells you that he specializes in Japanese as well as English.  And that the New Zealand and Australian accent is impossible for him to understand although his English is almost perfect.  The world comes to them and not vice versa.  Since it is a farming community it is very vulnerable to vicissitudes of climate.  You will not find aggressive begging and touting here as you will in the big cities.  The people of Khajuraho are very proud.  But you will be encouraged to spend money in their very good and clean restaurants, hotels and shops.  Khajuraho was our third stop after Delhi and Varanasi and we made a big mistake there.  We visited the beautiful waterfalls in a magnificent setting outside of town.  We attended a folk dancing performance whose musical accompanists were world class.  But we did not BUY ANYTHING in Khajuraho.  We had a long couple of weeks ahead of us and we did not want to load our suitcases up right away with stuff.  And that was the wrong thing to do.  In India there is poverty everywhere and everyone wants you to share what they perceive to be your great-riches-from-the-world-outside with them.  And how do you weigh the poverty and need that you see in Delhi or Mumbai against the want and the fear of the countryside where all the riches are in the soil or in the clouds in the sky and any help must come from miles away when Mother Nature lets the farmers down?  When you tell your guides (the sons of farmers) in Khajuraho that you are saving your shopping sprees for Mumbai, you might as well put a knife in their hearts.  And I'm sorry to say that that is what I did.  I didn't realize it then.  But I do now.

So if you find yourself in Khajuraho, can I suggest that like the Buddha and the Jain devotees in later life you........renounce ATTACHMENT...........to your rupees of the moment.  And attach yourself to a little wood carving.  Or a trinket made of metal.  Or a stone lotus.  Or a lovely piece of cloth or jewelry.  You won't regret it.