Sweet, sweet Art Nouveau overlord, how I love thee. This image is just a detail from a chalice in the collection of this fascinating Turkish chap.Yet, how disappointing your grave. (In defense of Père Lachaise, they've had to remove Jim Morrison's bust from his grave due to all the vandalism/tribute, and his would hardly have been as tempting to thieve away, so I suppose it follows Reason. I just want a giant terrarium around Lalique's grave, where vines and greenery is ever-present, with peacocks and serpents and light. On second thought, though, given a choice I'd rather have it - to enjoy with friends, and run naked through. Guess I'm selfish, when it comes to dead people. And becoming a mini-groundskeeper, even for that, also isn't terribly appealing.)
His jewelry though! Dear, glistening, serpentine aesthetic. Dear, glorious talent. I mean, just to be able to think enough beyond our societal value-ments to put diamonds and copper together? To have the frosted crystal balls to do it? And to carry out so much with arduous attentions bordering on inhumanly sublime? I curtsy and tip my fan to thee. Parasols down!
Parasol, down.
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