Art Wall Joy

A fabulous new trend is the art wall. Some absolutely have no rhyme or reason, others are perfect symmetry. But the fun part is, you make up your own rules.
Take the picture below. Do you see a theme? Matching frames? No. But it's beautiful and arresting.


(via apartment34.blogspot.com)
Now, this one is exquisite. And notice the black frame in the center area. I'd be delighted to walk up and peruse for a few minutes. My mind would be racing as to why these prints were picked. I'd imagine stories of dear Aunt Nellie who studied art in Paris leaving the owners a couple of signed ones.


(via thecitysage.blogspot.com )
Then you have the OCD person who demands symmetry for survival. Mr. or Ms. Pottery Barn. They love this wall. It's still the fresh new look of an art wall, yet so modern and crisp. Also themed in framing, only black or white frames.


(via potterybarn.com)
Which do you prefer? Moi? I'm the flea market, anything goes, out of the attic junker. I love the oddity of nothing matching. I have a piece I picked up at a Paris flea market paired with something my elderly friend painted. And my art wall is one of the favorite places in my home. It's a definite conversation starter.


(via apartment34.blogspot.com)
Go on. Do yourself and art wall. It'll make your guts smile.

The Paris of South America

It's Buenos Aires, my friend.

Via

Obviously a cafe/coffee shop. Map on the wall? Oh yeah I'm a solid fan. My very own world map hangs in my bedroom. But I've never just studied a map of South America. My coolest trip "south" was to Venezuela. Maracaibo to be exact. The flight down was exciting to say the least. Some baseball team was returning from the World Series and from the looks of things they had won. I was on an airline that started with a Z and I'd never heard of it. I had a window seat just above the wing and it was the loudest flight of my existence. Propellers AND raucous baseball players are not a good mix. But oh the adventure. I found the country to have THE kindest people ever.

I seem to be all about travel these days. Come to think of it, when have I not been all about travel? And I'm hearing amazing things about the "Paris of South America". When they mentioned "tango in the streets" my eyebrows rose, this sly smile covered my face, and I was ready to hop a plane. Today. Even the word tango makes me smile. I envision a gorgeous slick-haired brunette with a circle skirt and a massive red flower low beside her bun. (Her bun of hair, people.) Let's not forget the black haired matador in the crisp white shirt saying T-A-N-G-O as they step it off.

I have dreamed of Argentina before. But I always thought should I get there it would be to some gorgeous ranch/spa situation where I rode horses. And there were exquisite cowboys. I never in my wildest dreams equated it with Paris?

In my quest of further torture, I discovered the area I'd hang out in is San Telmo. It's attractions include old churches (e.g. San Pedro Telmo), museums, antique stores and a semi-permanent antique fair (Feria de Antigüedades) in the main public square, Plaza Dorrego. Tango-related activities for both locals and tourists are in the area. Which translates to me "tango in the streets"! Here I go again repeating myself. Al fresco dining with live latino music and ah yes...those dancers.

Any mention of Paris always gets my undivided attention. (I sat at a table this very week in a planning session...where all the planning we did was how to get our buns back to Paris the quickest!) And all this mention of the South American Paris really piqued my interest.

I love Paris in the springtime. (The song rolls in my head.)

I'd love Buenos Aires in the springtime. (Still singing though the syllables don't fit.) Might not be Spring, but you can bet your bottom dollar I'll see it.

Speechless

Bali...I.Wanna.Go.Now

Hey loves'. As of late there has been so much hype surrounding Bali. And I do say hype in the positive of senses. The book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert has created an absolute travel boom. That said, I must mention the movie starring the exquisite Ms. Julia Roberts, though I prefer mentioning Javier Bardem (quite possibly the most beautiful male walking this planet).



I want THAT exact guy from THAT exact picture bringing me THAT exact platter to an outdoor table overlooking crashing waves. I have an adventure planned for October, but it's stateside. I'm craving an adventure that takes me far across multiple oceans.



Every picture of Bali I see screams tranquility. (I'm laughing at myself for using the words scream and tranquil in the same sentence.) Somehow I know there's an open-air-thatched-roof-huge-down-covered-egyptian-cotton-sheeted-bed room for me to sleep in. I want to wear cotton caftans and slide my feet on tiled surfaces to hear the scrape of my corn husk thingy slippers. A hammock hangs nearby with a small bell attached to ring for service. "I'll have a pineapple/mango smoothie", I hear myself request of the wait staff. All this with the soothing sound of breaking waves. Sigh.

After a relaxing day of nothing (meaning a massage, pedicure, book reading, facial, then hair mask) I'd dress for dinner and head to the market.



THAT market with fat umbrellas and handmade baskets piled high. You knew I was going to say it. THAT man to lean on would complete this perfect picture in my mind. I'd stock up on spices to smuggle home and definitely swipe a menu.

What's life without a dream.

Today's dream? Bali.