I learned long ago that my taste isn't shared by most people.  Things that I found exquisitely beautiful were considered by others to be too exotic, unnaturally flamboyant and sometimes just tasteless.  Pastels are a waste of time to me.  Each of us has a different measure of what pleases us and there is no accounting for why we are attracted to different styles.  Here on this page, I have collected some of my favorites, a self-indulgent  wallowing in the things that I personally find beautiful.

From my earliest childhood in rural Oklahoma, I was fascinated by middle eastern cultures.  I suppose a case for reincarnation could be made here.  I am drawn to the art of the middle east, while at the same time I am repelled by that culture's demeaning treatment of women which has it's basis in their fundamentalist religion.  Perhaps it is that very dismissal of all things womanly that is a basis for their surprisingly feminine style of art.  Both men and women are portrayed with dainty feet and hands, delicate features, and rounded graceful shapes.   Since they are often clothed in similar dress, without the addition of beards and mustaches for the men, it would be impossible to say with certainty that the subjects were male or female.  As much as the middle eastern man would rage against my logic, I think the gender line is very blurred in that part of the world with the men, more often than not, slight and effeminate, affecting an outward show of manliness by subjugating women too frail and too deeply indoctrinated to rebel against centuries of paternalistic despotism.  Shame, shame, shame on the men who enslave, beat, torture and even kill the women who gave birth to them.  

Men who make war on women have never made peace with themselves.  Don't get me started. 

I am fascinated by artists who can show me corners of the world that I have never visited and evoke another time, taking me far into the future or showing me the world that used to be with their imagination and a few strokes of their magical brushes.  My taste in art and music is eclectic and iconoclastic.  I love Verdi, Bizet and Puccini as well as the toe-tapping rhythms of Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys.  The smoky voice of Billie Holiday gives me goose bumps and Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries electrifies me.  I am transported to heavenly realms by Ravel's Daphnis et Chloé, filled with primal urges by the Gipsy Kings and soothed by the nouveau flamenco guitar of Ottmar Liebert.  The violin, however, speaks to my heart.  The classical form of Fritz Kreisler and the  jazz violin of Stephane Grappelli delight me with their exquisite musical imagery and playful romps.

On to the wallow.

This picture has so many astounding things going on that my eyes skip from one surprise to another in constant delight.  It's painted in the classical Persian miniature style but the artist, Mahmoud Farshchian, has added modern touches of whimsy and spirituality that transcend the classical stilted style.  I've had to reduce the original painting by 80% so that you won't have to wait 2 hours for it to show up on your viewing screen but in doing so, I've lost so much of the wonderful detail that comprises this astonishing work of art.  She is Morning.

This is a painting by Mansour Khaleghi of the lovely Chehar Bagh in Esfahan, dominated by the Jomeh Mosque, an intriguing mix of realism and impressionism.   The ancient city of Esfahan in central Iran is that country's most unique city, it is the closest thing to what most Americans idealize as being typically Persian, a true jewel box of a city that began as a caravansary beside the famous madraseh, or school.  The wallpaper I made for this page is bordered with a design taken from an antique Persian carpet that was made in Esfahan.  I once spent a little time there, staying at the fabulous Abbassi Hotel, itself a monument to the Persian artisans and master craftsmen. 

On one moonlit night I was drawn from my room by the fragrance of the riotous colored roses which grow in profusion throughout that city.  Wandering into the shadowed hotel gardens, the heady perfume of the lush flowers was intoxicating.  There I found a storyteller, costumed in the historical dress of one of the wandering tribes, holding court in a pillared pavilion strewn with silk cushions and bubbling water pipes, lit by the flickering light of jeweled lamps.  In his hand he held a silver knobbed staff, the symbol of his profession, and as he whirled and gestured with the telling of his tale, the stick thumped against the oriental carpets covering the floor of the open pavilion adding emphasis to his words.  He held us enthralled as he spun his yarn of long ago, mistaken identity, broken hearts, betrayal and finally love found and fulfilled.  The spell he cast was so strong that when the tale ended, each of us sat there unmoving, still caught up in the web of his enchantment, unwilling to accept that the story was finished, reluctant to return to the present.  What a magical night.  There is a saying in Persian - Esfahan, nesfeh Jahan - Esfahan is half the world.  I believed it was true on that mystical perfumed night.

This charming portrait of domesticity "Hide and Seek" is by Tissot, chock-full of intricate patterns and textures.  Just wonderful!  How complicated he must have found the process of painting the two mirrors with their reflections of both inside and outside.  Three hoydens peek out from behind the furniture and screen, caught up in a childhood game. 

This painting by Fisher simply makes me happy.  I can hear the down east twangs of the artists as they sketch the white robed figure on the beach and I smell the cooking chowder from the little houses on the pier.   It looks like it's difficult to concentrate on your portrait painting while trying to keep your hat from blowing off in the freshening wind which sends the boats scudding across the water.  Without a doubt, the purists among the sailors resent the one smoking stinkpot who has insinuated himself into their wind-powered flotilla.          

This is my favorite stamp pin - at least for today.  This stamp is part of an extraordinary set issued by Algeria that depicts historical costumes and intricate Arabic calligraphy, just lovely.  The dramatic colors are a wonderful mélange that really shouldn't work.  The charm was a serendipitous find, an old sterling earring from the 1920s, that now serves new duty as a perfect match for the proud bearer of the scimitar.   

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