Art Deco and King Tut

In a vague way I'd known that the discovery of King Tut's tomb influenced Art Deco design, but I'd never been quite certain exactly how the discovery of the young pharaoh's burial treasure influenced the early twentieth century design movement. When pieces from King Tut's tomb came to San Francisco's de Young museum I knew I'd finally get a chance to see first-hand the origin of the influence.

In 1922 the general public became fascinated with what British archaeologist Dr. Howard Carter discovered in King Tut's tomb. Egyptian themes began to emerge across the design spectrum, influencing clothing, furniture, architecture, and jewelry. A few years after this discovery, Art Deco came into vogue and incorporated the popular Egyptian motifs that were already in circulation.

While looking at the ornate artifacts, I quickly began to recognize the inspiration for the Art Deco designs I'd seen over the years. I never thought of these designs as uniquely Egyptian so much as simply Art Deco. I saw among the tomb's objects the zigzags, wavy parallel lines, and stair step shapes that are familiar parts of the Art Deco vocabulary. The richly ornamented surfaces of a coffinette resembled the gilded surfaces of many of the Art Deco office lobbies through which I've passed. It was fascinating to tour the extensive collection of items from the tomb, something I'd been hoping to see for years. From a design perspective, I'm most happy to finally understand how the contents of King Tut's tomb influenced everything from Grauman's Egyptian Theatre in Los Angeles to Rockefeller Center in New York City.

Photograph by Harry Burton, who photographed the tomb contents in the 1920s.

A Day Without Rain is Like a Day Without Sunshine

This afternoon I stepped out during a momentary interval of sunshine. The puddle, created by a series of recent rainstorms, provided a reflective surface to capture the Ferry Building and a passing pedestrian. With more storms in the forecast it's going to be a day or so before it's time to exchange umbrellas for sunglasses.

A Trip to The de Young Museum

Had local environmentalists succeeded in their mission, this museum would never have been rebuilt in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. I suspect that some extreme elements of this movement would even delight in seeing the park revert back to the barren sand dunes that greeted gold miners way back in 1849. Fortunately for the museum-going public, this urban park now has an observation tower from which to view the Golden Gate Bridge, the park itself, and the surrounding topography.

The first photo is a close-in view of the embossed copper skin that covers the base of the de Young museum, designed by Swiss architecture firm Herzog & de Meuron. Over the weekend I visited the museum to see the King Tut exhibit, "Tutankhamun and the Golden Age of the Pharaohs." In the days ahead I'll share a few details from that trip.

Piano Jazz: George Winston

My initial reaction to George Winston's latest CD is how fundamentally American it is. The album's music resides in the jazz neighborhood, but there are detours down nearby side streets to sub-genres such as New Orleans Rhythm and Blues. In this solo piano album, Winston plays the music of Vince Guaraldi, a San Francisco-born jazz musician best known as the composer for Charles Schulz's Peanuts TV shows. For me the music stirs distant recollections of the animated shows, but I think the accompanying music is what I most remember when I reflect back on them. Aside from what was played on my parents' turntable and car radio, these shows provided some of my first exposure to jazz piano, something that's been a lifelong interest.

Over the past several weeks I've been able to listen to a digital clone of the master, which I've been told is the next best thing to being in the studio when the recording was underway. The songs are melodic and the playing style is robust. The recording technique helps brings out the bell-like quality of the grand piano. I've found the infectious melodies repeating in my mind days after listening to them.

I'm sharing a link that will let you listen to "Love Will Come" for free, hoping you'll enjoy the tracks as much as I have.

Click here to listen to all the songs

Coast to Coast and Around The World

Obtaining a winter sweater would seem to be a simple enough exercise. It only becomes difficult when expectations don't quite mesh with what's available. I'd been envisioning a rustic Shetland crew neck sweater from Scotland, the kind that is hand knitted with virtually no seams.

For some reason Brooks Brothers stopped carrying this particular type of sweater, an item they'd stocked for years, if not decades. I recall reading, some time ago, that when Brooks first began importing these sweaters the wool would occasionally arrive in the US with a whiff of the cooking odors from the Scottish houses where they were knit. I asked my favorite salesperson at the local BB store why these sweaters disappeared: demand for them had dwindled. For a moment I questioned whether I should continue my pursuit when the majority of people seem to have moved on to other sweaters, probably those made of cashmere, lambswool, or merino wool. I decided to persist a bit further.

One of the local men's stores, Cable Car Clothiers, had a scattered selection of colors and sizes. The salesman said they were waiting for their supply of Shetland sweaters to work its way through US customs. There's something Dickensian about Cable Car's approach to business, so I wasn't too surprised that they didn't have these in stock, even though it was only a month before the height of the Christmas shopping season.

There's a curious Scottish store near Union Square that stocks kilts and whiskey. When I asked about whether they had Shetland sweaters, the salesman said they receive at least one request a week for these sweaters, but that the store management was not interested in stocking them. I'll leave an assessment of their business practices to those with keener minds in the realm of commerce.

My next option was J. Press. They have a sweater that would have been ideal were it not for a roughly brushed surface that gives the sweater the look of something that has been heavily worn for many years. Their version, called the Shaggy Dog, has a strong fan base, so I'm clearly in the minority when it comes to my views on this one. When the sweater arrived I immediately sent it back to the store.

After exhausting domestic retail options, I decided to expand my search and work directly with the source in Scotland. Spirit of Shetland produces precisely the sweater I'd been in search of. I was able to find the exact color I'd envisioned, an earthen tone that evokes the colors of damp moors, tilled soil, and hanging moss. I exchanged several emails with Barbara to answer some basic questions. I realized her operation must be somewhat small when she said she'd get my order to the post office when the rain eased up a bit. The sweater arrived in a hand addressed package. The construction is just what I'd hoped for, including the seamless body and sleeves that are knitted into the shoulder, rather than being stitched. The ribbed turn-back cuffs are long and substantial. This sweater seems like such an essential staple that I'm puzzled why it required an international search to find one.

The Magic Behind the Curtain

Visiting the backstage of a theater for the first time is a bit like catching a passing glimpse of the kitchen commotion in a favorite restaurant or stealing a peek at the cockpit of a plane. These are the places, typically concealed behind doors, where the full complexity of the operation becomes apparent. For several hours I had a chance to get a sense of the behind-the-scenes stagecraft that goes into producing a play. A.C.T., one of San Francisco's oldest playhouses, celebrated its 100th anniversary by hosting an open house and inviting theater goers to take a peek behind, under, and above the stage. The ornate theater is located near Union Square. With 1,024 seats it's the size of a typical Broadway theater.

Among the people I had a chance to talk with were a wig maker and a costume designer. The wig maker described, in her tiny windowless workshop, how she hand threads human hair to create a realistic hairline for each actor's wig. Rather than conjuring up whimsical confections, the costume designer begins her creative process by researching clothing that was worn during the era that a particular play is set in. I was particularly interested to hear that accessorized costumes are available for rental. I noted this option as a possible cure for my chronic inability to come up with creative and fully-realized Halloween costumes.

While exploring the bare stage - as the people in the first photo are doing - I took a look at the system of red handles, ropes, pulleys, and counterweights. The stagehands use this fly system to raise and lower curtains, sets, and lighting equipment. I was reminded, darkly, of the movie villain who gets backstage, climbs into the rigging, cuts a rope, and sends a set crashing down on his intended victim.

The set designers displayed a number of the maquettes they use to visualize and test their stage set designs. These scale models looked like something with which kids would enjoy playing. I thought it would be delightful to have one of these on display at home.

Directly under the stage is the morass of equipment that the stagehands use to raise and lower set elements to and from the stage floor. As you can see, this utilitarian part of the theater looks almost like a car repair shop. The brown wooden bed, under the blue cover, is a leftover from the recent production of Dickens' "A Christmas Carol."

I'm curious to see what impact this tour will have on my experience when I'm seated back in the audience next week, watching A.C.T.'s production of Racine's "Phedra."

Fresh Provisions

It was a pleasant surprise to come home and find the shirt maker's cardboard package in the mail. I'd nearly forgotten the details of the order I'd placed sometime before Thanksgiving. A few days ago I tried to summon hazy recollections about the exact scale of the check, the shade of pink, and the weave of the cloth. My concern was that the shirts would arrive and I'd wonder "what on earth was I thinking?" Fortunately the package contained no unpleasant surprises.

This particular shirt maker, Joe Hemrajani, visits a number of cities across the United States. As is the practice of most visiting tailors, he sets up shop in a hotel room for a day or two and welcomes new and returning customers. It's a pleasure to do business with Joe because he's knowledgeable and provides good, reliable service. I first learned of this company through Will at A Suitable Wardrobe, one of my favorite sources of authoritative information about classic men's clothing and style.

Instead of having billowing shirts that look like bed sheets with buttons, I finally have a reliable way to obtain shirts that truly fit. It's taken several orders, each with minor tweaks, to perfect my shirt pattern. Now that the details have been refined, it's just a matter of figuring out which cloth to choose, placing the order, and then waiting for the package to arrive in the mail. For those with little patience, the hardest part of the process must be poring over the endless cloth samples in the hotel room. I've found I enjoy pausing for an hour or so to flip through the cloth books and narrow my choices. Joe offers up more shirt options than any store in town could ever hope to stock. The hotel room is filled with dozens of sample books from British, Italian, and Japanese mills. I've grown to favor the Thomas Mason books since their selections tend to be classic, the colors bright and true, and the cloth beautifully executed. Now that this order has arrived I'm already beginning to think about what I might need the next time Joe comes to town.

First Dawn of the New Decade

This morning I woke up early so that I could walk to the bay and see the first dawn of the new decade. As I headed toward the water the streets were largely empty, except for a few people who were either starting their day or winding down their New Year's Eve revels. The sidewalks were scattered with last night's trampled party hats and streamers. An empty Champagne bottle had me wondering whether the people who'd left it had been swigging directly from the bottle or whether they'd had the foresight to bring along glasses. In the next few hours these remnants of the celebration will be swept up and hauled away and 2010 will be well underway.

For the advent of the New Year I was hoping the sunrise would deliver a dazzling dawn of coral pinks and blazing oranges. The reality was a bit more subdued than I'd envisioned. The sky gradually illuminated from blue to grey as the sun rose behind a heavy cover of clouds. Once the sun had finally risen I headed back home, prepared to see what the year ahead brings.

Getting Ready for the New Year

With the New Year almost here, I paid a visit to a nearby office supply store to pick up a new calendar. It's a bit of a puzzle how this particular store persists with what appears to be an antiquated approach to business. The cash registers may well be the same ones they were using 20 years ago. While the store manages to be tidy, there's also a general overhang of neglect about the place. Perhaps most unusual for a retail operation, the staff members don't seem to change every several months. I continue to recognize people who've helped me with past year's calendar purchases. The store's been in San Francisco since 1873, so my quibbles and concerns probably don't have much merit.

Exactly why I continue buying a calendar is something I've occasionally questioned. It would be more efficient to centralize everything in a single online calendar. What I like about a printed calendar is that I'll have a record I can flip through to recall who I had lunch with, the movies I saw, the trips I went on, the performances I attended, and when my last trip to the barber was. I'm not quite able to warm to the idea of scrolling through an online calendar to reminisce about past year's activities. I realized the shortcoming of digital records when I used a Palm Pilot for a year or so. At the end of that year I had no convenient record of what happened over the course of the previous 365 days. I've tried the At A Glance calendars (too big), Filofax (too bulky), Day Runner (inelegant), and Letts of London (just right). I thought I had a Letts book for each year of the decade, but I now realize that my dalliances with Filofax and Palm Pilot created some gaps in the archive.

The Letts books are pretty close to perfect. The navy blue binding is subtle and the layout of the interior pages consists of clean black typography on stark white sheets. The sections allocated to each day provide just enough room to jot down a few impressionistic details. To mark progress through the year, there's a helpful navy blue ribbon. Since the books are slim, they're easy to carry along. In reviewing the number of blank pages in my 2009 calendar, I should probably resolve to be a bit more diligent about noting what happens in 2010.

Wishing you a wonderful New Year, one which will fill your own calendar - whether it be digital or analog - with many pleasant entries.

Night Lights for The Winter Solstice

I thought these pictures from late last week made sense to share on the darkest day of the year. I'm reminded of the sentiment expressed in the lyrics from Vernon Duke's jazz standard "Autumn in New York," one of my favorites. "Here on the twenty-seventh floor, looking down on the city I hate and adore." For me the winter solstice inspires a similar ambivalence. It's the darkest day of the year yet it also marks the point at which the daylight hours will, finally, begin increasing.