Beneath Contempt

Photo courtesy Flickr

My godfather worries about my immortal soul because I like low-brow art. His concern may be justified, but I do love a good poster or skate graphic.

Taste is doggone tricky. English collector Alastair McAlpine advises simply to follow one’s preferences. Richard Gump, who founded the store in San Francisco, published “Good Taste Costs No More” after World War Two. I don’t know what good taste is any more, but my in-house archaeologist says the basics are to keep sharp things off the floor and toddlers out of the fire.

One year I couldn’t resist setting my kid’s gold plastic bust of C-3PO in the dark entry hall. It seemed the right place for a protocol droid. Only one person got the joke, a woman who agreed that my house on her lot would be perfect.

Bruno Munari wrote a classic called “Design as Art” in which he poked fun at the idea of furnishing one’s house as if “the duchess were coming to dinner”. Prince Charles remarked that one of his occupational hazards is being constantly exposed to the fumes of fresh paint.

The best design summary, I think, is housekeeping guru Don Aslett’s claim that a house should look as if the people who live there are having a good time. And the best strategy may be Ettore Sotsass’s, who comments that even the best castles are fundamentally disposable and that practicality is an aesthetic decision about life.

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