This year has seen a long fixation with shells; not a new one for me, as I’ve had shell collections since I can remember. In primary school I had emptied all my clothes out of dresser drawers for the purposes of turning that particular piece of furniture into a petit musée. It was a vast shell collection and needed to be properly cataloged and displayed. It had been largely amassed whilst traipsing along coastlines in and around Sydney, and the waters of Lake Macquarie.

The word ‘muse’, from the Greek root hai moũsai, means ‘to think’. So Apollo, being leader of the muses, must therefore have been chief among thinkers. It is also the root of the word ‘museum’; a place to enjoy the ‘fruits’.

As mentioned earlier the names of these muses appear periodically on door panels and are embodied in the ceiling work by Le Brun.  Set amongst musical instruments and gilded relief the name Terpsichore is emblazoned on the tracery on one such door; she was muse of the ‘delight of dancing’ and, purportedly, the mother of the sirens.

Beside one of the windows that overlooks the Seine is another panel in which a white mare and bold stag face each other entwined around a golden urn. Above them hovers an eagle with outstretched wings, crowned with a laurel wreath; the prize for winning a race, or for being victorious. Cornucopia sit under it’s wings and below it’s feet is a seeded pomegranate. The eagle has symbolic relevance in this room; it’s ability to fly into the sun is an obvious reference not only to Apollo but also to Louis XIV and his ‘sun god’ mantra.

Greek myths and legends drew on the human psyche and it’s powers of imagination and creativity to make sense of the world – for better or worse. It is interesting that the French Court practically gorged itself on the bacchanalian pleasures of mythology, over and above the Catholicism that was it’s chief religious directive; we know from history that Louis XIV was more interested in the mythological root of these emblems. In Christianity the eagle is a symbol of the prophetic and of soaring high on God’s strength; being built-up, encouraged, upheld and carried by a power that is both terrible and safe at the same time; omnipresent and omniscient. ‘They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” Isa 40:31.

In such a magnificent room one is overwhelmed by the wealth and extravagance that has, and does, play such a part in the governance of this world. The elements of nature and our own human abilities seem to be extricated from the everyday and transformed into idols; a grand illusion and an overwhelming expression of power and the thirst for it.

These snaps capture just a tiny portion of the gilding and magnificent detailing that is applied directly to the walls. Along with the flourishes are titles on the wall sconces that flank each partition in the room; titles such as Clio and Historia invoking the influence of classical mythology on the decorative arts within the French royal and imperial households.

*see First Floor, English and Venetian Paintings

Both of these architects are women, and both have recently exhibited as part of the group show elles@centrepompidou at the Pompidou Center in Paris. The question that occurs to me is whether there is some connection between a masculine psychological tendency towards straight linear planes, and a feminine fascination with curves and organic modules. In her book ‘Knowing Woman‘ Jungian psychologist Irene Claremont de Castillejo speaks of the female psyche’s tendency towards ‘diffuse awareness’ and the interconnectedness of all living things. She contrasts this with the male tendency towards rational and logical ‘focused consciousness’. In an aside to this the comparison of the sexes has recently undergone a candid, humorous and at times passionate online debate on the subject of Male leadership versus Female leadership – you can follow that thread of debate here.

Andrasek’s practice works under the studio title ‘Biothing‘ in which embodied feelings are entwined with abstract relationships. The creation of ideas for Biothing are based on this relationship and harnessed by the use of digitally generated diagrams. Taking for example the formulation of skin, a mathematical algorithm of skin-surfaces is fed into a computer to produce physical, structural formations. They are developing a built environment in which ‘the organ’ and biological elements are becoming tangible structures to live and work within, and are echoing the very nature of the organisms that inhabit them.

I recently heard an esteemed male designer lambasting the curvilinear structures of Zaha Hadid as unsympathetic to the built environment. However, the counter argument to a generalization of male and female architectural tendencies can be found in the form of Jørn Utzon’s Sydney Opera House, or Renzo Piano’s Aurora Place – also in Sydney. Both provide magnificent and acclaimed curves in the skyline; and both were designed by men.

I had an opportunity to tour the Gobelins factory back in 2007 and see first hand this esteemed workshop and rooms filled with weavers threading looms. Les Gobelins has it’s own artisan school of apprentices and a 4 year study program, along with its own gallery and archive. That the knowledge within it’s walls has been handed down through the centuries is remarkable.

Remarkable, but not exclusive to France of course. Tapestry weavers proliferate the world over. Melbourne, Australia has it’s own Victorian Tapestry Works fulfilling commissions for artists; the late great Arthur Boyd’s tapestry in the New Parliament House being one example. Touring the South Island of New Zealand in 2005 I happily stumbled across Marylin Rea Menzies weaving tapestry in her studio in the Arts Centre on Worcester Boulevard, Christchurch. Just one lone weaver in a studio surrounded by looms and partially finished cloth. I sat watching the ‘painting’ grow thread-by-thread for some time as she talked me through the process and her latest piece.

It’s heartwarming to see such a public space, a stately place, being utilised in such a relaxed manner. In some ways I found the forecourt behaving in a very un-Parisian way. Somehow it was being allowed to ‘relax’ and was alarmingly unaware of itself, even daring to be ‘low at heel’. The carousel was covered in shambley rope netting. There were sections of scaffolding piled around. There were children learning to ice-skate.

Who exactly is responsible for this uncharacteristic languor I don’t know, but it certainly was about égalité. Even so this could never be completely the case with architecture like that looking on.

To say that Irma Boom [irmaboom.nl] is known for her book design would be perhaps an understatement. Her work has been acclaimed as some of the most beautiful book design ever created; specifically the work ‘Weaving as Metaphor’ which expounds on the creations of weaving artist Sheila Hicks. There is a worthy discussion of the book on bookofjoe.com and book-by-its-cover.com.

The light-boxes touch on an interesting dialogue between art and literature and the streaming of the two into a techno-cratic sustainability-conscious and commercially viable climate. Robert Norton’s dreamlike and synthesized harmonies twinkle in the midst of it all.

To mythologize this would be to call it a prototype for a super-’Kindle’ version of the the art world; a designer’s workmanship supplying up to the minute data that perveys the artist’s work, in some semblance of absorbable matter, immediately to your eyes? Is this the contemporary version of Impressionist Art? Are contemporary commercial designers today’s version of Impressionists?

Here’s a bit more from Louise Campbell herself on inspiration, the work of her studio, and her work for Royal Copenhagen. I love her studio’s 3 firm rules: Always start from scratch; be sure there’s a good reason for every decision made; and dare to be different!