Lately I've felt this huge pull to the color white; as well as cream, ivory, candlelight, and all the other colors that Benjamin Moore will try and tell you are anything but white. I used to be a strict all in black girl. Maybe some purple or red thrown in for gothy measure, even in my personal decor. But now. Oh, but now. Things like this send me into a quick-breathed swoon:
Courtesy Apartment Therapy
"Oh me, oh life. Of the questions of these recurring..." In much less eloquence why bother to analyze why my tastes are changing? I used to love gathering up the colors myself, swilling them until they disappeared into one another. And now. Now I'd rather have a blank canvas, so I can view all of those colors individually. Something calm, something serene, something devoid of anything but itself.
I've been collecting broken Frozen Charlottes. I've been eying white crockery. I've been gathering up white paper lanterns and hanging them from my ceiling.
Or is it that my head is now permanently in the clouds? That I've lost all worry and am just floating now? Regardless, I'm in immersion mode now, soon, forever.
Eva Zeisel's work
Swedish Cloud Portable Meeting Room
Maybe I'll dedicate one room in our new antique house (the sunroom is all white, white hardwood floors and white paneled walls), and let all the colors invade it from the outside world, until I wipe it down and wash the linens out and bring it back from something terrestrial into the stratosphere.
Sorry for the image-centric post. xoxo