#Woven Wood Shades in Los Angeles

[remoshades]

Woven Wood Shades Los Angeles

Los Angeles Woven Wood Shades-Bring out the proud country charm of Los Angeles area with woven wood shades. Ustylish Nature-Inspired Decor Ideas With Woven Wood ShadesThese stylish shades sport a perfect balance of fashion and function ensuring the needed privacy & light control in addition to bringing organic beauty inside your windows. Custom Woven Wood Shade Installation Los Angeles - Modern and Traditional Style for Home or Business.

[unholyhelbig]

Title: The Victorian

Ship: Jemma Simmons/ Daisy Johnson

Summary: Jemma Simmons is offered a position as a local biologist in Georgetown South Carolina, effectively moving her family across the country to a southern-style victorian house. Strange things start to happen and they’re suddenly pulled into a supernatural nightmare. With the help of a coworker, the next-door neighbors, and a renowned Ghost Hunting team, the Simmons/ Johnson household fight against forces unseen.

The house loomed over the inlet. Its white exterior had been mossed over in some areas, sharp and green compared to the off-white paneling. Soft orange hummingbird vines hid any blemishes, their green tendons twisting through the delicate lattice that moved over the left side of the home.

There was a worn stone birdbath and a deep green hedge that lined the back of the property. Past that was a deck that moved into the watery swamps that smelled thickly of fish and saltwater. Even through the car, Daisy could smell it, and her chest swelled with the familiarity of the ocean.

Jemma had a smile across her face. It was warm and welcoming and a little prideful. This was their house, even if they hadn’t seen it until now. There were pictures but it didn’t’ give the southern style home any justice, with its wrap-around porch and large bay windows.

The driveway was gravel and she winced as she pulled the front wheels of their SUV over the dip, welcoming the back wheels with another bump. She stared up at the canopy of trees, willows with seeping Spanish moss, and struggled to keep her focus on her movements. Jemma didn’t’ say a thing, if she noticed, too entranced herself.

“I didn’t’ think it would be this,” Daisy trailed off, bringing the car to a stop.

“Magnificent? Archaic? Stepford wife?”

“Yes,”

She settled for all of the descriptions. She had always wanted a big home and this was a far cry from their two-bedroom in Los Angeles. It was half the price too. There was enough room for her own office and a library because even Ayla enjoyed curling up and flipping through her mothers' books.

Daisy could imagine a tire swing and a nice coat of paint, and the sweet southern breeze seeping through the back screened-in sunroom. She glanced back at the girl, her head leaning against the window and soft rhythmic breaths filling the silence. The jostling of the car hadn’t deterred her from sleep, and neither did the sudden attention trained on her.

“Beautiful too. Kind of… haunted-looking?”

“Oh, don’t start with that. Ghosts aren’t real, and if they are, it’s just”

“Science we don’t’ understand yet, yes sweetheart, I know” Daisy finished her wife’s sentence with a loving smile.

Jemma smiled back and the gesture was warmer than the South Carolina air. She could smell the floral trumpets that lined the wall and gravel crunched under her feet as she emerged from the driver’s side of the car. There was a thick sheen of sweat already forming against her brow.

She rounded to the backseat and opened it with enough gentleness that Ayla didn’t’ stir. She had also become victim to the heat; small whisps of blonde hair clung to her forehead and she breathed in with a little bit more force than before, but still, she didn’t wake from her sleep as Daisy pulled the five-year-old from her car seat and hugged her close.

One shoe had been toed off during the drive here and Ayla’s feet dangled at Daisy’s side as she shifted her to her hip and Jemma shouldered the overnight bag that they had packed for all three of them. They knew it would be a long trip, and it had been, but the moving truck hadn’t beat them here and they figured they would make do with a duffel bag of clothes most worn.

“Darn, I must have the keys here somewhere” Jemma mumbled after they braved the aching steps and stood under the slightly shaded porch. It would be nice for rocking chairs, or string lights.

Daisy’s mind was racing with possibility, even when the door did creak open to reveal a dark and cooling interior from the late ’50s. It had vast cherrywood flooring and a stained-glass side window that caught the sun and drowned the grained wood in color.

There was a long oak staircase and a dining room that had an old table in its center, but no chairs. At least Daisy considered it to be a table. It was covered in a white sheet that was equally covered in dust. Jemma closed the door behind them and looked up at the vaulted ceiling that seemed to stretch until the second-floor landing.

Ayla shifted in her arms and gripped her little hand around the excess fabric of the blue cotton button-down that Daisy wore. She whimpered; nose pressed close to the inside of her mother's neck. The cold had gotten to her and Daisy didn’t want to admit that it instantly dried any damp part of her skin.

“It’s charming,” Jemma sounded out “Needs some love, but certainly not something we didn’t’ account for.”

“Needs some light too,” Daisy said as she stepped further into the house.

The living area was a lot better; it swam with that very light that she was hoping for. She figured that they would set up the air mattress in the trunk right in this room. There were already floral print curtains that could be drawn to keep the nightly creatures from peering in, and the warmth flowing through the two bay windows had begun to thaw her skin.

There was another white sheet, covering a blocky object like a tacky ghost. “A bookcase?”

“A piano,” Jemma corrected “You can see the pedal under the right edge. It’s an old one too. I can’t imagine why anyone would leave it behind.”

Daisy didn't want to entertain the idea of anything causing abandonment other than pure laziness. She wouldn't want to lug a piano onto a moving truck in this kind of Southern heat either. Her arms were starting to ache- Ayla wasn’t as small as she used to be, and she got the nagging urge to wake the girl.

Jemma seemed to read her mind as she always did. She carefully pulled the girl into her arms resulting in a tiny nose scrunch and a little groan, but still not fully awake. Traveling must have taken it completely out of the kid, and truthfully, it took everything out of the mothers too.

They had eaten at the hotel this morning, Daisy demolishing three pancakes while Jemma limited herself to a banana and a few bites of Ayla’s slowly softening cereal. She didn’t’ do well with the winding mountains of Tennessee and had clenched her eyes the entire time, gripping what she called the panic handle.

Other than that, they had shared a bag of trail mix and Daisy squeezed the untouched applesauce pouch into her mouth to quell the rumbling in her stomach, but that had been at the border of North and South and she was getting agitated with hunger now. She considered Jemma and her daughter were more than halfway there themselves.

“I think I saw a Chinese restaurant on the way into town,” She offered, rolling her sore shoulder around “What do you say to an old tradition?”

Jemma smiled again, and it brightened the room even more. The first place they rented together didn’t have power yet and it was above a take-out place that had the best Chicken Lo Mein. They lit a bunch of candles and ate on the floor, a fell asleep in each other’s arms despite the less-than-ideal circumstances.

Daisy took this as confirmation and placed a chaste kiss on her wife’s cheek before fishing her car keys from her back pocket again and stepping into the stifling heat. The door fell shut behind her and her stare instantly fell on a woven basket filled with fresh apples and baked muffins. The scent made her stomach plunge even further.

And there was a man, quite a large one, stalking away from the gift. His shoulders had a wide span and his dark skin glistened in whatever sun the trees allowed through. Daisy stifled a smile of her own.

“Thank you!” She called out

The man turned quickly around. His face was kind despite his large stature and he let out a groan. “See, you weren’t supposed to catch me leaving this. It was going to be an anonymous welcome from the community.”

Daisy walked down the front porch and the man met her halfway, that warm expression still on his face. He wore a flannel over a sweat-dampened tank top despite the heat. He was even taller in person, his hands stained in what Daisy could guess is grease.

“It was my wife’s idea, she saw you guys pull in and threw something together last minute. She’s not used to having neighbors.” He let out a soft chuckle “I told her that ya’ll have L.A plates and that’s not how it works there, but she refused to listen.”

“No, it’s really nice, actually. I’m Daisy… like the flower.” She stuck out her hand.

The man’s own engulfed hers entirely, it was calloused but firm “Mack like the- oh hell, the food?”

“Nice to meet you, Mack. We really do appreciate it, I guess Southern Hospitality is a real thing?”

“Oh absolutely. Look- I’ve gotta get back home, we live right across the way, but on that little note wedged between whatever fruit she could scrounge up, is an invitation to dinner tomorrow night. It’s up to you if you want to accept it or not”

“We’ll be there,” Daisy said. And they would.

[blackphoenixalchemylab]

Halloween 2018 Perfume Blends

Calling all witches, hags, demons, goat-lovers, and assorted tricksters! 

We've truly outdone ourselves with the Halloween 2018 collection, exploring strange new depths in diablerie as well as perfumerie. In addition to many classic treats, we've also got a spooky Chaos Theory, a timely Poe tale storyboarded in scent, a pile of Dead Leaves, a ribald new series of blends inspired by goats in classical art, and more! Never fear -- Trading Post's hair gloss and atmosphere sprays will be coming soon! 

You’ll find the full compendium of Halloween scent descriptions below, but BEWARE... You may find more thrills than e'er you bargained for.!

++ HALLOWEEN 2018

ALL SOULS A day of remembrance and intercession. Without the prayers and sacrifices of their families and loved ones, the faithful departed may not be cleansed of their venal sins, and thereby cannot attain beatific vision. On November 2nd, prayers are sung and offerings are made to aid lost souls in transcending purgatory. An incense blend that invokes the higher qualities of mercy and compassion, mingled with the soft, sugared currant scent of offertory soul cakes.

BLUE GHOST BLUES I feel myself sinkin' down I feel myself sinkin' down My body is freezin' I feel something cold creepin' around

My windows is rattlin' My doorknob turnin' round an' round My windows is rattlin' My doorknob turnin' round an' round This haunted house blues is killin' me I feel myself sinkin' down

I been fastin' in this haunted house Six long months today I been fastin' in this haunted house Six long months today The Blue Ghost is got the house surrounded, Lord And I can't get away

They got shotguns and pistols Standin' all round my door They got shotguns and pistols Standin' all round my door They haunt me all night long So I can't sleep no more

The Blue Ghost haunts me all night The nightmare rides me all night long The Blue Ghost haunts me at night The nightmare rides me all night long They worry me so in this haunted house I wished I was dead and gone

- Lonnie Johnson

A ward against evil: bay rum, whiskey, cigar smoke, black pepper, and salt.

BONFIRE TOFFEE Our spin on a traditional Guy Fawkes Night treat: treacle toffee soaked in rich, dark bourbon.

DIA DE LOS MUERTOS A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte... Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant "...chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love." This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus.

FEEDING THE DEAD A barrel of beer, a pyramid of cakes, and three sticks of incense.

GHOST MUSIC Gloomy and bare the organ-loft, Bent-backed and blind the organist. From rafters looming shadowy, From the pipes’ tuneful company, Drifted together drowsily, Innumerable, formless, dim, The ghosts of long-dead melodies, Of anthems, stately, thunderous, Of Kyries shrill and tremulous: In melancholy drowsy-sweet They huddled there in harmony. Like bats at noontide rafter-hung.

- Robert Graves

Sheets of white musk and lavender curling around a melancholy song of violet root, iris, neroli, and honeysuckle.

GHOULISH Creepy like Creepy and as spooky as Spooky, this is the scent of a black cherry and coconut amaretto confection gently laced with saffron.

THE HAG The Hag is astride, This night for to ride; The Devill and shee together: Through thick, and through thin, Now out, and then in, Though ne'r so foule be the weather.

A Thorn or a Burr She takes for a Spurre: With a lash of a Bramble she rides now, Through Brakes and through Bryars, O're Ditches, and Mires, She followes the Spirit that guides now.

No Beast, for his food, Dares now range the wood; But husht in his laire he lies lurking: While mischiefs, by these, On Land and on Seas, At noone of Night are working,

The storme will arise, And trouble the skies; This night, and more for the wonder, The ghost from the Tomb Affrighted shall come, Cal'd out by the clap of the Thunder.

Black musk, bay leaves, galangal, bourbon vetiver, blackcurrant, and rum.

THE HARE In the black furrow of a field I saw an old witch-hare this night; And she cocked her lissome ear, And she eyed the moon so bright, And she nibbled o' the green; And I whispered 'Whsst! witch-hare,' Away like a ghostie o'er the field She fled, and left the moonlight there.

A leaper between worlds, the tiny trickster; she soars through liminal spaces, dancing in the strange shadows of dawn and twilight.

Warm fur and mandrake root, blue sage and tall grasses, honeysuckle-tinged moonlight, carrot seed, comfrey, and dandelion.

HUESOS DE SANTO On All Saints Day, Spanish families visit their loved ones in the cemeteries, keeping vigil throughout the evening, saying prayers for the dead. Family burial plots are cleaned and tended, and graves are adorned with gladiolas, chrysanthemums, and roses. Bone-shaped pastries called Saint's Bones, or the Bones of the Holy, are baked and shared in honor of the souls in Purgatory, and to remind us of those who no longer share our repast, but with whom we one day hope to be reunited with again.

Orange-glazed cake, dotted with anise seed, and filled with custard, set beside a bouquet of celebratory funeral flowers.

INSIDE THE GOLDEN AMBER OF HER EYEBALLS A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place your sight can knock on, echoing; but here within this thick black pelt, your strongest gaze will be absorbed and utterly disappear:

just as a raving madman, when nothing else can ease him, charges into his dark night howling, pounds on the padded wall, and feels the rage being taken in and pacified.

She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen into her, so that, like an audience, she can look them over, menacing and sullen, and curl to sleep with them. But all at once

as if awakened, she turns her face to yours; and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny, inside the golden amber of her eyeballs suspended, like a prehistoric fly.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

Sleek black fur and gleaming amber shining in the shadows, a rumble of myrrh, and claws as sharp as ti leaf.

LAMBS-WOOL According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman's Magazine for May of 1784 stated, "this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve." He also quotes Vallancey's etymological speculation: "The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, -- that is, the day of the apple fruit, -- and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool."

A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove.

MAGNIFICENT AUTUMN By what a subtle alchemy the green leaves are transmuted into gold, as if molten by the fiery blaze of the hot sun! A magic covering spreads over the whole forest, and brightens into more gorgeous hues. The tree-tops seem bathed with the gold and crimson of an Italian sunset. Here and there a shade of green, here and there a tinge of purple, and a stain of scarlet so deep and rich, that the most cunning artifice of man is pale beside it. A thousand delicate shades melt into each other. They blend fantastically into one deep mass. They spread over the forest like a tapestry woven with a thousand hues.

Magnificent Autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds. He comes not like a hermit, clad in gray. But he comes like a warrior, with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.

The scene changes.

It is the Indian summer. The rising sun blazes through the misty air like a conflagration. A yellowish, smoky haze fills the atmosphere; and

A filmy mist,

Lies like a silver lining on the sky.

The wind is soft and low. It wafts to us the odor of forest leaves, that hang wilted on the dripping branches, or drop into the stream. Their gorgeous tints are gone, as if the autumnal rains had washed them out. Orange, yellow, and scarlet, all are changed to one melancholy russet hue. The birds, too, have taken wing, and have left their roofless dwellings. Not the whistle of a robin, not the twitter of an eavesdropping swallow, not the carol of one sweet, familiar voice! All gone. Only the dismal cawing of a crow, as he sits and curses, that the harvest is over, – or the chit-chat of an idle squirrel, – the noisy denizen of a hollow tree, – the mendicant friar of a large parish, – the absolute monarch of a dozen acorns!

Another change.

The wind sweeps through the forest with a sound like the blast of a trumpet. The dry leaves whirl in eddies through the air. A fret-work of hoar-frost covers the plain. The stagnant water in the pools and ditches is frozen into fantastic figures. Nature ceases from her labors, and prepares for the great change. In the low-hanging clouds, the sharp air, like a busy shuttle, weaves her shroud of snow. There is a melancholy and continual roar in the tops of the tall pines, like the roar of a cataract. It is the funeral anthem of the dying year.

A scent that wanders through the Ages of Autumn, from the last green leaf to the first breath of winter.

MIDNIGHT BONFIRE Lighting the path between worlds, the beacon at the threshold: night-blooming jasmine, smoldering maple leaves, a cluster of patchouli and blackened ti leaf, black sage, and pinewood smoke.

PUMPKIN CRÈME BRULEE With vanilla bean scrapings.

PUMPKIN DUST Shavings of white pumpkin rind and honey powder.

PUMPKIN MUSK AND BLACK OUDH A strangely romantic, disturbingly erotic perfume.

PUMPKIN TOBACCO Sweet black tobacco infused with dried pumpkin and soaked in bourbon.

SAMHAIN Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.

SAMHAINOPHOBIA The Fear of Halloween

Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.

SCARECROW TURNED PHILOSOPHER Once I said to a scarecrow, “You must be tired of standing in this lonely field.”

And he said, “The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I never tire of it.”

Said I, after a minute of thought, “It is true; for I too have known that joy.”

Said he, “Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.”

Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled me.

A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.

And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest under his hat.

- Kahlil Gibran

Corn husks waving on an autumn breeze, beams of amber sunlight, hay bales, and late summer wildflowers.

SUCK IT Sexy and suckable: black cherry brandy.

THIS WAN WHITE HUMMING HIVE And where should the living feel alive But here in this wan white humming hive, As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold, And one by one they creep back to the fold? And where should a man hold his mate and say: "One more, one more, ere we go their way"? For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night, When the living can learn by the churchyard light.

White patchouli leaf, beeswax, ambergris, and pale incense.

WHEN COLORS ALL TO BLACK ARE CAST In night when colors all to black are cast, Distinction lost, or gone down with the light; The eye a watch to inward senses placed, Not seeing, yet still having powers of sight,

Gives vain alarums to the inward sense, Where fear stirred up with witty tyranny, Confounds all powers, and thorough self-offense, Doth forge and raise impossibility:

Such as in thick depriving darknesses, Proper reflections of the error be, And images of self-confusednesses, Which hurt imaginations only see;

And from this nothing seen, tells news of devils, Which but expressions be of inward evils.

- Lord Brooke Fulke Greville

Ink-black musk and dried blackberries, midnight opoponax and sweet labdanum.

THE WITCH BRIDE A fair witch crept to a young man's side, And he kiss'd her and took her for his bride.

But a Shape came in at the dead of night, And fill'd the room with snowy light.

And he saw how in his arms there lay A thing more frightful than mouth may say.

And he rose in haste, and follow'd the Shape Till morning crown'd an eastern cape.

And he girded himself, and follow'd still When sunset sainted the western hill.

But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side, Weary day!-the foul Witch-Bride.

(Aw, c'mon, Allingham. Foul is a pretty strong choice of words, dontcha think?)

Pale and lovely, with eyes belladonna-wide: hemlock blossoms and ghostly nightshade veiled by wisteria, white frankincense, black amber, and narcissus resin.

YIPE In the vein (GET IT?) of Boo, Suck It, and Spooky, this is a gushing font of sweet bloody black cherry cream and crushed dried blackberries.

++ ALL HALLOWS CHAOS

Turbulent, disordered beauty: sensitive to initial conditions, topologically mixed, and approached by periodic orbits with abandon. A dynamical system expressed through scent.

Each bottle of Chaos Theory is truly unique, a fragrant fractal, and an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct. Each bottle is numbered, and each bottle is unique.

Hail Eris! After a long hiatus, Chaos Theory is back!

This year, the aforementioned chaos is expressing itself through decidedly seasonal metaphors associated with gathering the harvest and welcoming the “dark half” of the year. Is it comfort you seek, or incantations whispered through a tear in the Veil? Thanks to the options below, you don’t have to choose — you can have it both ways! This is an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each bottle is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct.

Most common allergens have been omitted from the experiment. No pennyroyal, no nuts, no cinnamon, no cassia. Regardless, if you have any sensitivities, please do not participate in Chaos Theory. The contents of the oils are not recorded [that’s the whole point!] and we will not be able to answer questions about specific bottles of CT:VIII or guarantee that an allergen is not present in your order.

By purchasing CT:VIII, you agree to absolve Black Phoenix of any responsibility related to an allergic reaction to one of the oils in this series. Please make a responsible choice, and use caution and discretion when ordering. This is intended to be a fun, exciting project.

Each CT:VIII scent has a base inspired by one of our favorite ‘Weenies, in wildly varying proportions:

ALL HALLOWS CHAOS: PUMPKIN SPICE

Variety is the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.”

― William Cowper, 1785

Forget about the War on Christmas — the year’s most contentious seasonal battle is actually waged over this inescapable melange of palate-massaging flavors. We’ve got the formula down pat, and invite you to join us in a mad-science experiment: Just how far can we bend it before it breaks?

ALL HALLOWS CHAOS: SAMHAIN 

“Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos.” ― Mary Shelley, 1831 This Samhain, we’re reveling in the desecration of a classic blend: “Damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.”

++ HALLOWEEN: MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH

Art by Tenebrous Kate

Words by Edgar Allan Poe

THE RED DEATH The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

Splatters of red musk, bruise-purple violets, vetiver, and pimento.

HAPPY AND DAUNTLESS AND SAGACIOUS But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion.

Imprisoned in frenzied joy: ribbons of raspberry and red currant streaming through thick goat’s milk.

IT WAS FOLLY TO GRIEVE, OR TO THINK The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think.

Ginger-squeezed champagne with crushed diamonds, orange blossoms, and peach blossoms.

THERE WAS BEAUTY, THERE WAS WINE The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

Gushes of black and red wine splattering damask rose and white pear, engulfed in thick clove incense.

A MASKED BALL OF THE MOST UNUSUAL MAGNIFICENCE It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

Opulent golden oudh, red benzoin, and bitter almond.

A GIGANTIC CLOCK OF EBONY It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

The chiming of the clock: ebony wood and black pepper, narcissus blossom and tuberose, clanging with dull, heavy opoponax and thick olibanum.

THE TASTES OF THE DUKE WERE PECULIAR But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.

The swirl of a thousand glittering vices: absinthe and laudanum, opium poppy and neroli, star anise and black currant, whip leather and iron shackles, gilded vanilla flower and King mandarin.

GLARE AND GLITTER AND PIQUANCY AND PHANTASM He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm -- much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions.

Delirious fancies such as the madman fashions, arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments: orris absolute and leather contorted by cherry and orange blossom.

A MULTITUDE OF DREAMS There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these -- the dreams -- writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps.

A blackened lavender mist, thick with opoponax, licorice root, and benzoin.

ALL IS SILENT SAVE THE VOICE OF THE CLOCK And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away -- they have endured but an instant -- and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods.

Dreams writhing to and fro, bubbling up from half-subdued laughter: pink peppercorn, jasmine sambac, and cypress bubbling up through half-subdued white lavender, stabbed through with streams of red musk and black currant.

THE NIGHT IS WANING AWAY But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments. But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life.

Night-blooming jasmine and cereus reflected through ruddy musk and crimson amber.

THE SOUNDING OF MIDNIGHT UPON THE CLOCK And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise --then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

Terror, horror, and disgust: a bowel-churning sweet clench of myrhh and green musk in a pool of suffocating black moss and a shock of white cognac.

THE SCARLET HORROR In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood --and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.

"Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him -- "who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him -- that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!"

Blasphemous mockery: blood musk and vetiver.

A GROUP OF PALE COURTIERS It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly -- for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker.

A sycophant’s polished stench: green musk fougere, lime, and rose-tufted wig powder.

A CERTAIN NAMELESS AWE But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple -- through the purple to the green -- through the green to the orange -- through this again to the white -- and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him.

Death unimpeded: bone-white sandalwood, dry cognac, and chilled ambergris accord.

A DEADLY TERROR THAT HAD SEIZED UPON ALL It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all.

He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry --and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

The wild courage of despair: a screech of blood orange and a splash of blood entangled in a corpse-mask of tattered white sandalwood stained with balsam and a grime-crusted winding sheet.

ILLIMITABLE DOMINION OVER ALL And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

Darkness, Decay, and the Red Death: blood musk and black tobacco, birch tar and bleeding cypress sap.

Listen to Poe’s complete tale here, on our YouTube Channel:

++ PICKMAN GALLERY 2018

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: ARKHAM’S PICKMAN GALLERY ACQUIRES CURIOUS COLLECTION OF GOAT ART, DEEMED ‘GREATEST OF ALL TIME’ Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra on view at the Pickman Gallery from September 22 to December 28, 2018, Arkham, MA — On view from September 18 through December 28, 2018 at Pickman Gallery, Arkham, MA, Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra. Greatest Of All Time is guest curated by the Santa Fe Art Institute’s Antonia Vasquez-Thackeray, who also holds a degree in Livestock Science.  In this first-of-its-kind exhibition, Mx. Vasquez-Thackeray explores the social co-evolution of humankind and goatkind, a history which stretches back at least 10,000 years. Researchers note that goat remains have been found at archaeological sites in Western Asia including Jericho, Choga Mami, Djeitun, and Çayönü. Via their innate curiosity and horizontally-pupilled eyes, goats have enjoyed a unique view of human civilization, and our ancestors’ myths and legends have proven us nothing if not fearful of their scrutiny. “Our projections in terms of goat consciousness and goat archetypes have eclipsed anything a goat might tell us about us, or itself,“ Vasquez-Thackeray writes in the introduction to her upcoming MY GOAT, MY INQUISITOR, a salvo against the bias and anthropomorphism that has infected the relations between these two closely interrelated worlds -- but which carefully does not disavow the propensity for deceit, diabolism and witchcraft within the Caprian mind. Greatest of All Time consists of works hand-selected to commune with our species’ most recent common ancestor. About this evolutionary MacGuffin, Max Robinson, Ph.D. Molecular Biology and Biotechnology & Evolutionary Genetics, University of Washington, has written: “Millions of years ago, there was some kind of animal that eventually evolved into both goats and humans. It probably had claws rather than hooves or hands. It had a liver, four legs, eyes, and a brain, just like humans and goats still do.” Unfathomably, a lineage extends directly from that ancestor to this season’s exhibition, which will serve as a family reunion of sorts: several goats from Vasquez-Thackeray’s personal herd will be in residence as docents throughout the duration of the show. (Their reactions to the art as well as to the guests will be recorded via motion-capture and analyzed by individuals from SFAI, MIT, and, by special request, members of Arkham’s Thousand Young Lodge.

A BOAR AND A GOAT 18th century Russian lubok, illustrator unknown Red amber, frankincense CO2 absolute, green fig, labdanum, King mandarin, Atlas cedar, and bitter almond.

A HOARD OF CREATURES WITH THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS BEFORE A TAVERN Cornelis Saftleven Peru balsam, leather, castoreum accord, frankincense, and hay.

A YOUNG BOY AND HIS BROTHER SEATED ON A GOAT Christoffel Pierson Polished mahogany, copal resin, Java sandalwood, teakwood, and Sumantran patchouli.

AN ENCAMPMENT OF SHEPHERDS Tassili N'Ajjer, 4000-1500BC Tonka bean, red clay, rose tobacco, and oudh.

ANIMAL ALLEGORY Cornelis Saftleven Dust, dry incense, parchment, and tobacco leaf.

BOY WITH GOAT IN A LANDSCAPE Rudolf Koller Grapevine and ivy, olive blossom, lavender, cypress, bay leaf, honey myrtle, Tuscany sage, and jasmine sambac.

CABRAS Giuseppe Palizzi Black pine, white sage, creeping ivy, and wild juniper.

EEN SATYR Jacob Jordaens A heavy, animalic musk with cognac, fir balsam, grapevine, black cypress, patchouli, honey, and copaiba balsam.

THE GOAT AND THE VINE Harrison Weir Golden apples, cedar and redwood trellises heavy with grapevine, beeswax, hemp, vanilla benzoin, and bois de rose.

THE GREAT HE-GOAT Francisco Goya Haitian vetiver, Egyptian amber, carnation, black musk, pomegranate, patchouli, and smoked ginger.

HALF-HUMAN, HALF-MONKEY BARBERS SHAVING A GOAT Engraving by G. van der Gucht after J. Wootton Bay rum, hay, dried alfalfa, aftershave, and cork stalk.

JACOB WITH THE DAUGHTERS OF LABAN

Louis Gauffier Lebanese cedar, chamomile, frankincense, and cinnamon.

JUPITER NOURISHED BY THE GOAT AMALTHEA Engraving by Jacques Jordaens Goat’s milk, nectar, ambrosia, and honey.

LITHOGRAPH OF A MOUNTAIN GOAT H Weir White sandalwood, black pepper, muguet, agarwood, labdanum, and 3-year aged patchouli.

RUHENDE ZIEGE MIT KITZCHEN

Johann Christian Reinhart Brown musk, leather, castoreum accord, white cedar, amber oudh, and clove bud.

STUDIE EINER ZIEGE Pieter Boel Sweet labdanum with clove, tobacco absolute, and guiac wood.

TWO SHEEP AND TWO GOATS RESTING TOGETHER IN A FIELD A. Ducote Sweet vetiver, bourbon vanilla, and wool.

VENUS PANDEMOS Venus Pandemos Hay, rose otto, red benzoin, torch smoke, and pink carnation.

THE WITCHES’ RIDE

Otto Goetze Red roses and vetiver with cashmere incense, rue, and cauldron spices.

ZOE AND THE GOAT

Lorenz Frølich Caramelized patchouli, cream, and thick golden honey.

++ HALLOWEEN: POMEGRANATE GROVE

About the pomegranate I must say nothing, for its story is something of a mystery. - Pausanias

POMEGRANATE GROVE: ALICE

POMEGRANATE GROVE: DORIAN

POMEGRANATE GROVE: EMBALMING FLUID

POMEGRANATE GROVE: MOROCCO

POMEGRANATE GROVE: SNAKE OIL

++ HALLOWEEN: PILE OF LEAVES

Every leaf tells a story.

DEAD LEAVES AND MAPLE SAP

DEAD LEAVES, BLACKBERRY, AND RED PATCHOULI

DEAD LEAVES, GREEN COGNAC, IRIS ROOT, AND WHITE LEATHER

DEAD LEAVES, SWEET MYRRH, LEATHER, GREEN POMELO, AND RED CURRANT

DEAD LEAVES, BOURBON VETIVER, NAGARMOTHA, AND VANILLA ABSOLUTE

DEAD LEAVES AND RED CARNATIONS

DEAD LEAVES AND PUMPKIN SEEDS

DEAD LEAVES AND SCOTCH

DEAD LEAVES AND WARM SUGAR COOKIES

DEAD LEAVES, SWEET OAKMOSS, WHITE SAGE, AND CHAPARRAL

DEAD LEAVES AND VANILLA INCENSE

DEAD LEAVES, APRICOT, AMBERGRIS, AND TOBACCO

DEAD LEAVES AND COFFEE BEANS

DEAD LEAVES, BLACK TEA, AND TOBACCO LEAF

DEAD LEAVES, MAGNOLIA CHAMPACA, AMBERETTE SEED, PERU BALSAM, AND SUGARED CHESTNUTS

DEAD LEAVES, RED WINE, AND BLACK OUDH

[socialwicked]

Rivian R1T and R1S Review: Superior SUV, Awesome Off-Road

Two times immediately after  I pulled into Loss of life Valley, California, to exam the Rivian R1T, a sandstorm rolled by means of. Not quite biblical, a lot more  Mission: Unattainable Ghost Protocol . So extreme was the climate, cellular towers quit doing work and no person was ready to continue to keep their eyes open up extended enough to locate the slat-board common retail store that was providing refuge. Even worse, we couldn’t uncover the only saloon. It turns out these had been best conditions for screening a rugged EV from a newbie manufacturer on the lookout to make its mark. 

 Not long after my California sojourn, I was cruising all-around lush, forested upstate New York in an R1S, the SUV edition of Rivian’s truck. This design has its sights firmly established on Selection Rover’s prospects, and it will get there just before the British brand even receives its to start with genuine hybrid out of the gate.

 The R1T begins at $73,000, and the R1S commences at $78,000, and the solutions incorporate up quick. The loaner R1T that I drove was optioned up to a interesting $90,000, but in truth of the matter the selections have been just gravy on an currently stellar truck. You could purchase the foundation-stage model without the need of any possibilities or updates at all, and you’d nonetheless get all the ideal components of the R1T. 

   I set 1,300 miles on the R1T in all forms of conditions—from Los Angeles hurry-hour visitors to open freeway, chilly mountain roads to off-street desert trails. Afterwards I drove yet another 100 miles on an R1T and an R1S via rural New York, ending on a muddy off-street path just to be confident. Here’s why it is, to date, the best-rated EV I have reviewed.

 Home From Household

 Tent tenting was not going to happen the initial night time the sandstorm hit, naturally. Cruising on the very last 30 miles of juice in the Rivian’s 300-mile battery array, I discovered Dying Valley’s only charging stations—four sluggish chargers driven by an array of photo voltaic panels—and bunked down for the night time. 

 I hardly ever sleep well in automobiles, but with the driver’s seat leaned all the way again and the charging station pulsing bit by bit as it fed the Rivian’s batteries, I nodded off in no time. Automakers have gotten awfully excellent at generating artificial leather-based that can be mistaken for the genuine detail. The R1T’s faux-leather-based seats could’ve fooled anyone, and even following several 12-hour days driving (and sleeping in) the Rivian, I never once felt a pang of soreness.

           I did not shell out considerably time using in the back seat, but with a touchscreen for the rear-experiencing climate controls and a snug fold-down armrest, the 2nd rows of each the R1T and R1S have been as cozy as the front seats. The R1S has a 3rd row of seats for a complete of seven passengers. There is certainly no solution for 2nd-row captain’s chairs (two person seats) rather of the three-individual bench. The two rows fold flat, as is regular, and should really be anticipated in an SUV these times.

 The typical trim options ash-wooden inside panels. They are accessible in two shades: brown and black. What impressed me most is that they weren’t protected in a thick layer of plasticky varnish, like the wooden trim of most vehicles. The stain applied on the wood is just adequate to coloration it, and when you run your finger in excess of the surface area you can truly feel the wood grain. The carpeting is similarly tactile and incorporates woven floor mats from Chilewich. They offered a wonderful, distinct style and design depth, whereas most flooring mats are basic old carpet or rubber.

   You can retailer whatever you like in the pass-by equipment tunnel that operates horizontally under the front of the truck mattress. It serves as a next lockable trunk, in addition to the entrance trunk beneath what we’d normally contact the hood in an inside-combustion-engine (ICE) truck. There is plenty of room for a load of groceries in the frunk, and I carried all-around a few of huge duffel bags and a backpack in there with room to spare. There is even a useful devoted Bluetooth speaker with subwoofer, tweeter, and two mid-array speakers that shops under the middle console and can be taken off entirely from the cabin. If only all auto manufacturers had such awareness to detail.

 Exemplary Interior

             The inside functions ash wood paneling.

   Photograph: Elliot Ross/Rivian    The person interface of the rectangular 15.6-inch touchscreen is the greatest of any all-screen infotainment center I’ve witnessed yet. It’s all the much more impressive due to the fact a towing, hauling, off-roading, commuting truck like the R1T has so quite a few extra driving configurations than, say, the  Polestar 2 , which has a equally industry-leading and intuitive UI, but is not as aesthetically satisfying or packed with as several driving screens and settings. The touchscreen interface is a weakness for numerous car companies, and it is astonishing that they do not search at devices like this for important classes. On the rear of the centre console, back again-seat travellers get their very own 6.8-inch touchscreen to handle the heating and air-conditioning.

https://socialwicked.com/rivian-r1t-and-r1s-review-superior-suv-awesome-off-road/

[architectnews]

Studio Saxe weaves Caribbean Courtyard Villa into a Costa Rican jungle

Deep overhangs shade pavilions and walkways at a lush nature retreat in Costa Rica by architectural practice Studio Saxe.

The Caribbean Courtyard Villa is located in Puerto Viejo, a coastal town in southeastern Costa Rica. Tucked away in a jungle, the 495-square-metre rental home sits on a gently sloping site near Chiquita Beach.

Caribbean Courtyard Villa is surrounded by jungle

Studio Saxe, which is based in San José, aimed to create a villa that embraced the tropical setting.

The architects conceived a series of pavilions organised around a central courtyard with a swimming pool. The pavilions are connected by pergolas.

Studio Saxe arranged pavilions around a central swimming pool

"We designed a strategy of aggregation by creating a network of triangular pergolas that can grow or contract, depending on the necessity of the client throughout the project," the firm said.

There are five pavilions. Four are identical, square-shaped modules that hold a bedroom and bathroom.

Each pavilion holds a bedroom and a bathroom

The fifth pavilion is a large rectangle that encompasses an open-concept kitchen, dining area and living room. It also holds a master suite.

The pavilions are raised above the ground and are covered with hipped roofs. Each sleeping module has its own sheltered patio, which is accessed via a glazed, sliding door.

Ceilings are clad in honey-coloured wooden slats

The interior rooms feature earthy materials and neutral colours, including ample use of woven decor.

In both the bedrooms and public area, ceilings are covered with honey-toned, wooden slats.

Read:

Studio Saxe perches Casa Bell-Lloc on a lush hillside in Costa Rica

Occupants circulate between the different pavilions by walking under the pergolas, which are made of metal and wood.

"The project was conceived as a series of objects placed around the property and within existing trees," said the architects.

The pavilions are connected by pergolas

The villa also steps down the hillside, further helping the architecture blend with the terrain.

The project has a number of sustainable elements, including rooftop solar panels and water-efficient systems. The villa is intended to "set a new example" for designing in Costa Rica's tropical, coastal regions.

Caribbean Courtyard Villa was designed with Costa Rica's tropical climate in mind

Established by Benjamin Garcia Saxe in 2004, Studio Saxe has offices in San José, Los Angeles and London.

Other Costa Rican projects by the firm include a pair of beach houses that feature wooden screens and overhanging roofs, and a coastal dwelling that consists of pavilions wrapped in teak and glass.

The photography is by Andres Garcia Lachner.

Project credits:

Architect: Studio Saxe (design director, Benjamin G Saxe) Builder: Cr-Eco Client: The Stroh Family Structural engineer: APÉSTEGUI+BLAIR Electromechanical engineer: CIEM Landscape: Saxe Landscape

The post Studio Saxe weaves Caribbean Courtyard Villa into a Costa Rican jungle appeared first on Dezeen.

[ukdamo]

A Manchester Poem

George Macdonald

'Tis a poor drizzly morning, dark and sad. The cloud has fallen, and filled with fold on fold The chimneyed city; and the smoke is caught, And spreads diluted in the cloud, and sinks, A black precipitate, on miry streets. And faces grey glide through the darkened fog. Slave engines utter again their ugly growl, And soon the iron bands and blocks of stone That prison them to their task, will strain and quiver Until the city tremble. The clamour of bells, Importunate, keeps calling pale-faced forms To gather and feed those Samsons' groaning strength With labour; and among the many come A man and woman - the woman with her gown Drawn over her head, the man with bended neck Submissive to the rain. Amid the jar, And clash, and shudder of the awful force, They enter and part - each to a different task, But each a soul of knowledge to brute force, Working a will through the organized whole Of cranks and belts and levers, pinions and screws Wherewith small man has eked his body out, And made himself a mighty, weary giant. In labour close they pass the murky day, 'Mid floating dust of swift-revolving wheels, And filmy spoil of quick contorted threads, Which weave a sultry chaos all about; Until, at length, old darkness, swelling slow Up from the caves of night to make an end, Chokes in its tide the clanking of the looms, The monster-engines, and the flying gear. 'Tis Earth that draws her curtains, and calls home Her little ones, and sets her down to nurse Her tired children - like a mother-ghost With her neglected darlings in the dark. So out they walk, with sense of glad release, And home - to a dreary place! Unfinished walls, Earth-heaps, and broken bricks, and muddy pools Lie round it like a rampart against the spring, The summer, and all sieges of the year. But, Lo, the dark has opened an eye of fire! The room reveals a temple, witnessed by signs Seen in the ancient place! Lo, here is light, Yea, burning fire, with darkness on its skirts; Pure water, ready to baptize; and bread; And in the twilight edges of the light, A book; and, for the cunning-woven veil, Their faces - hiding God's own holiest place! Even their bed figures the would-be grave Where One arose triumphant, slept no more! So at their altar-table they sit down To eat their Eucharist; for, to the heart That reads the live will in the dead command, He is the bread, yea, all of every meal. But as, in weary rest, they silent sit, They gradually grow aware of light That overcomes their lamp, and, through the blind, Casts from the window-frame two shadow-glooms That make a cross of darkness on the white. The woman rises, eagerly looks out: Lo, some fair wind has mown the earth-sprung fog, And, far aloft, the white exultant moon, From her blue window, curtained all with white, Looks greeting them - God's creatures they and she! Smiling she turns; he understands the smile: To-morrow will be fair - as holy, fair! And lying down, in sleep they die till morn, While through their night throb low aurora-gleams Of resurrection and the coming dawn. They wake: 'tis Sunday. Still the moon is there, But thin and ghostly-clothed upon with light, As if, while they were sleeping, she had died. They dress themselves, like priests, in clean attire, And, through their lowly door, enter God's room. The sun is up, the emblem on his shield. One side the street, the windows all are moons To light the other side that lies in shade. See, down the sun-side, an old woman come In a red cloak that makes the whole street glad! A long-belated autumn-flower she seems, Dazed by the rushing of the new-born life Up hidden stairs to see the calling sun, But in her cloak and smile they know the spring, And haste to meet her through slow dissolving streets Widening to larger glimmers of growing green. Oh, far away the streets repel the spring! Yet every stone in the dull pavement shares The life that thrills anew the outworn earth, A right Bethesda angel - for all, not some! A street unfinished leads them forth at length Where green fields bask, and hedgerow trees, apart, Stand waiting in the air as for some good, And the sky is broad and blue - and there is all! No peaceful river meditates along The weary flat to the less level sea! No forest brown, on pillared stems, its boughs Meeting in gothic arches, bears aloft A groined vault, fretted with tremulous leaves! No mountains lift their snows, and send their brooks Down babbling with the news of silent things! But love itself is commonest of all, And loveliest of all, in all the worlds! And he that hath not forest, brook, or hill, Must learn to read aright what commoner books Unfold before him. If ocean solitudes - Then darkness dashed with glory, infinite shades, And misty minglings of the sea and sky. If only fields - the humble man of heart Will revel in the grass beneath his foot, And from the lea lift his glad eye to heaven, God's palette, where his careless painter-hand Sweeps comet-clouds that net the gazing soul; Streaks endless stairs, and blots half-sculptured blocks; Curves filmy pallors; heaps huge mountain-crags; Nor touches where it leaves not beauty's mark. To them the sun and air are feast enough, As through field-paths and lanes they slowly walk; But sometimes, on the far horizon dim A veil is lifted, and they spy the hills, Cloudlike and faint, yet sharp against the sky; Then wakes an unknown want, which asks and looks As for some thing forgot - loved long ago, But on the hither verge of childhood dropt: 'Tis but home-sickness roused in the soul by Spring! Fresh birth and eager growth, reviving life, Which is because it would be, fill the world;

The very light is new-born with the grass; The stones themselves are warm; the brown earth swells, Filled, sponge-like, with dark beams, which nestle close And brood unseen and shy, and potent warm In every little corner, nest, and crack Where buried lurks a blind and sleepy seed Waiting the touch of the finger of the sun. The mossy stems and boughs, where yet no life Oozes exuberant in brown and green, Are clad in golden splendours, crossed and lined With shuttle-shadows weaving lovely change. Through the tree-tops the west wind rushing goes, Calling and rousing the dull sap within: The fine jar down the stem sinks tremulous, From airy root thrilling to earthy branch. And though as yet no buddy baby dots Sparkle the darkness of the hedgerow twigs, The smoke-dried bark appears to spread and swell In the soft nurture of the warm light-bath. The sun had left behind him the keystone Of his low arch half-way when they turned home, Filled with pure air, and light, and operant spring: Back, like the bees, they went to their dark house To store their innocent spoil in honeyed thought. But on their way, crossing a field, they chanced Upon a spot where once had been a home, And roots of walls still peered out, grown with moss. 'Twas a dead cottage, mouldered quite, where yet Lay the old shadow of a vanished care; The little garden's blunt, half-blotted map Was yet discernible by thinner grass Upon the walks. There, in the midst of dry Bushes, dead flowers, rampant, uncomely weeds, A single snowdrop drooped its snowy drop, The lonely remnant of a family That in the garden dwelt about the home - Reviving with the spring when home was gone: They see; its spiritual counterpart Wakes up and blossoms white in their meek souls - A longing, patient, waiting hopefulness, The snowdrop of the heart; a heavenly child, That, pale with the earthly cold, hangs its fair head As it had nought to say 'gainst any world; While they in whom it dwells, nor knows itself, Inherit in their meekness all the worlds. I love thee, flower, as a slow lingerer Upon the verge of my humanity. Lo, on thine inner leaves and in thy heart The loveliest green, acknowledging the grass - White-minded memory of lowly friends! But almost more I love thee for the earth Which clings to thy transfigured radiancy, Uplifted with thee from thine abandoned grave; Say rather the soiling of thy garments pure Upon thy road into the light and air, The heaven of thy new birth. Some gentle rain Will one day wash thee white, and send the earth Back to the earth; but, sweet friend, while it clings, I love the cognizance of our family. With careful hands uprooting it, they bore The little plant a willing captive home - Fearless of dark abode, because secure In its own tale of light. As once of old The angel of the annunciation shone, Bearing all heaven into a common house, It brings in with it field and sky and air. A pot of mould its one poor tie to earth, Its heaven an ell of blue 'twixt chimney-tops, Its world the priests of that small temple-room, It takes its prophet-place with fire and book, Type of primeval spring, whose mighty arc Hath not yet drawn the summer up the sky. At night, when the dark shadow of the cross Will enter, clothed in moonlight, still and wan Like a pale mourner at its foot the flower Will, drooping, wait the dawn. Then the dark bird Which holds breast-caged the secret of the sun, And therefore hangs himself a prisoner caged, Will break into its song-Lo, God is light! Weary and hopeful, to their sleep they go; And all night long the snowdrop glimmers white Thinning the dark, unknowing it, and unseen. Out of my verse I woke, and saw my room, My precious books, the cherub-forms above, And rose, and walked abroad, and sought the woods; And roving odours met me on my way. I entered Nature's church, a shimmering vault Of boughs, and clouded leaves - filmy and pale Betwixt me and the sun, while at my feet Their shadows, dark and seeming solid, lay Like tombstones o'er the vanished flowers of Spring. The place was silent, save for the broken song Of some Memnonian, glory-stricken bird That burst into a carol and was still; It was not lonely: golden beetles crept, Green goblins, in the roots; and squirrel things Ran, wild as cherubs, through the tracery; And here and yonder a flaky butterfly Was doubting in the air, scarlet and blue. But 'twixt my heart and summer's perfect grace, Drove a dividing wedge, and far away It seemed, like voice heard loud yet far away By one who, waking half, soon sleeps outright:- Where was the snowdrop? where the flower of hope? In me the spring was throbbing; round me lay Resting fulfilled, the odour-breathing summer! My heart heaved swelling like a prisoned bud, And summer crushed it with its weight of light! Winter is full of stings and sharp reproofs, Healthsome, not hurtful, but yet hurting sore; Summer is too complete for growing hearts - Too idle its noons, its morns too triumphing, Too full of slumberous dreams its dusky eves; Autumn is full of ripeness and the grave; We need a broken season, where the cloud Is ruffled into glory, and the dark Falls rainful o'er the sunset; need a world Whose shadows ever point away from it; A scheme of cones abrupt, and flattened spheres, And circles cut, and perfect laws the while That marvellous imperfection ever points To higher perfectness than heart can think; Therefore to us, a flower of harassed Spring, Crocus, or primrose, or anemone, Is lovely as was never rosiest rose; A heath-bell on a waste, lonely and dry, Says more than lily, stately in breathing white; A window through a vaulted roof of rain Lets in a light that comes from farther away, And, sinking deeper, spreads a finer joy Than cloudless noon-tide splendorous o'er the world: Man seeks a better home than Paradise; Therefore high hope is more than deepest joy, A disappointment better than a feast, And the first daisy on a wind-swept lea Dearer than Eden-groves with rivers four.

[jodybouchard9]

Take Your House to the Old Town Road: How to Do Western Decor Right

Voisine/iStock

If you’ve been playing Lil Nas X‘s “Old Town Road” on a loop for the past couple of months, you’re in good company—even former President Barack Obama has added the blockbuster song to his summer playlist. But here’s the thing you might not have noticed amid all the buzz: Love for twang and all things American grit has gone far beyond the Billboard Charts—straight into our home decor.

“Cowboy or Southwestern elements are a natural fit with the trending colors of the season,” says designer Annabel Joy, co-founder of Trim Design Co., in Massachusetts. (She points to Sherwin-Williams Color of the Year Cavern Clay, a warm terra-cotta shade reminiscent of sunsets in the desert.)

So if you’re really digging the Western mood, then giddyup! You can bring the theme into your home, wherever you are—no need to saddle up your horse and move out to a ranch.

“There are definitely ways to subtly incorporate this trend without veering into ‘home on the range’ territory,” Joy adds. “And a light touch is key.”

Here’s how to bring a little of the cowboy mania throughout your home, in the chicest way possible.

In the bedroom

Photo by Studio Sven  The best way to bring the West into your room is to use natural materials, recommends Doreen Amico-Sorell, interior designer in New York City.

“The key is to stay away from trendy or ranchy pieces,” she says. “Instead, use natural finishes like wood, brass, leather, and wrought iron mixed with muted colors of nature.”

In the bedroom, that might translate to going with a wrought-iron or wooden bed frame, and complementing your aesthetic with a leather chair and solid or geometric fabrics.

“Add a Navajo blanket to be used as a throw or area rug, and framed pieces of handwoven fabric,” she recommends.

What to buy:

Aileen platform bed, Wayfair, $188

Navajo pattern on matte paper print, Etsy, from $89

Harding Jacquard blanket, Pendleton, $269

In the dining room

Photo by Marie Burgos Design  The dining space is one area where you can truly have fun with the Western theme. Try oversize art prints (or fake antlers, if you’re into that), a wooden table, leather, and wooden accents.

Look for black-and-white art prints that feature that Western look: horses, saddles, rope, or even old “Most Wanted” posters.

Don’t want to do a total overhaul of your dining room? You can ease in with a few Western accents such as a bold dining room centerpiece, recommends John Linden, interior designer in Los Angeles.

“The best way this is done in a modern fashion is by taking a cowboy-inspired piece and flipping it a different color,” he says. “An example would be a silver, gold, or rose gold animal skull as a centerpiece.” Or try faux antlers as candlesticks.

What to buy:

Old Texas art print, Etsy, from $31

Monarch walnut round dining table, Crate and Barrel, $2,400

Antler aluminum candelabra, Wayfair, $59

In your kid’s room or nursery

Photo by A.Jennison Interiors  You can create a whimsical vibe with Western elements in your children’s rooms, says Kathryn Nelson, interior designer in Dallas.

Think of an accent wall installation where you hang dream catchers or cowboy hats, she suggests. Or a cozy corner full of Western accent pieces like throw pillows, Pendleton blankets, woven rope or basket wall hangings, and hats.

This look is easy to switch out, too—which is great news for when your kids get over their “Toy Story” phase.

What to buy:

Large ivory and natural dream catcher, Etsy, $100

Celebrate the Horse blanket, Pendleton, $269

Kids cowboy hat, Etsy, $15

In your outdoor space

Photo by ARTO  Your outdoor space is an easy spot to incorporate the Western aesthetic. But stick to doing it in a clean, simple way, recommends Justin Riordan, interior designer and founder of the Portland-based home staging company Spade and Archer Design Agency.

“No silhouettes of a cowboy leaning against a wall or haystacks in your backyard,” he says. “Subtle touches like a cactus and succulent garden or terra-cotta tile on a back patio are quiet, tried-and-true Southwest touches that can remind us of a time and place rather than shouting, ‘yeehaw!’”

What to buy:

Paloma porcelain field tile, Wayfair, $5.69/sq. foot

The post Take Your House to the Old Town Road: How to Do Western Decor Right appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

[bittersweetpanophobia]

Homesick (Pharmercy one-shot)

Angela set down her suitcase and turned on the light of the hotel room. With a deep sigh she examined the interieur. The Panoramic window offered a beautiful view the doctor had missed for so long. The mountain range of Switzerland stretched all over her sight, peaks were already covered in snow; the evening sun illuminated them in shimmering gold and the sky was dipped in first vibrant pink and orange shades. Warm light coated the comfortable looking double bed, the wooden furniture - the scent of pine wood tickled her senses and brought her into a feeling of homecoming.

Slipping out of her coat and shoes Angela walked towards the window and opened it. A fresh breeze greeted her and thankfully she inhaled the cool and fresh air that smelled so different yet so familiar. The doctor was glad to be here again for a few days, even if the reason wasn’t vacation but a congress.

Somewhere in the distance she could hear the churchbells ring, also the chirping of starlings. In awe she watched their highly complex formation in flight, creating woven mazes and abstract patterns. The peaceful setting was all she really needed. Sure, this place had more charm during spring when flowers were in bloom and farmers brought their cattle to the alps, but late fall wasn’t bad either. To her surprise, nothing has really changed on the countryside during her absence. While the rest of the world battled for advance in technology, time has appeared to stop here; the blonde woman appreciated it with every bit of her senses.

She started to unpack her things and hung up the clothing neatly in the huge pinewood closet, noting how big it really was. Something was clearly missing. The suits, tanktops, shorts that belonged to her other half. Half- that was the appropriate word while her fingers smoothed out the wrinkles on her business jacket. No matter how beautiful everthing was around her, the woman felt incomplete. Fareeha had to stay at home due to duties and training. Angela’s heart sunk a little and a sudden feeling of loneliness replaced the nostalgia and bliss. She checked her watch. 6 pm, her mind raced while she turned on her heel and wandered back to the bed where the opened beige colored suitcase was waiting for her. Two items were left inside, a notebook with the Overwatch logo on its case and a t-shirt way too big for her.

Angela smiled gently at the piece of cloth. It was one of Fareeha’s favorite shirts, slightly washed out with the logo of Iron Maiden printed on it. Her grin grew. The blonde doctor couldn’t develop a liking to the soldier’s taste in music. Too loud, too heavy, too much electric guitar; simply put, an insult to Angela’s sophisticated ears which only found joy in Wagner, Chopin or Bach. Fareeha would often find her inside the lab with headphones on, using her pen to gracefully conduct the “Ride of the Valkyries“ with a blissful expression on her face.

The doctor’s lids lowered while she picked up the shirt and brought it close. Burying her face into the cloth, she took in the scent that made her shiver in anticipation. A little musky from sweat, but there were also hints of Fareeha’s favorite perfume, Tabac Rouge by Phaedon. An orchestra of honey, cinnamon and ginger, even notes of tobacco, incense and benzoe fused into a sensual concerto and lead Angela’s mind back into the arms of her beloved soldier.

The feeling did not last long though; it got replaced by a lonely heart and slight frustration. The scent worked wonders on her senses and perception and how much she longed for a slight touch, a faint kiss was torture. The shirt went right onto the bed, next to pillow where a little chocolate bar waited as a welcoming gift. Angela’s gaze lingered on the candy, but then she decided to ignore it for a little longer.

Making herself comfortable with a glass of Compleo Cuvée Noire she had ordered from the room service, she sat down crosslegged onto the bed. While the notebook was busy starting, Angela took a first sip and closed her eyes in delight to savor all the different components that made the red wine so special to her. Being fond of rather exquisite beverage, she found herself alone on that field at Overwatch. Reyes used to drink wine too in his earlier days, but now that he avoided her, the doctor had to drink on her own. Fareeha was strictly against alcohol and only found comfort in her tea; the egyptian woman would only nip some champagne at new year’s eve. It seemed almost unbelievable how much the soldier had turned her back on alcohol. It probably resulted from her rebellious teenage days which were hard to imagine. Angela never had that phase in her life. Always studying, always composed, polite and focused- child prodigy and all. She found her fun in statistics and theories while others partied hard until they needed a doctor that pumped out their stomach.

Angela had barely placed the wine glass back to the nightstand as the skype ringtone interrupted the silence. Quickly she answered the videochat and grinned like a little fool.

“Hallo Schatz!“

Fareeha sat on the couch in their living room, a towel hung around her neck. Probably she had a shower before.

“Hey, how are you? Did you have a nice trip, nuur aiyni?“

Angela smiled and almost melted inside over the given nickname. The light of my eyes? What could possibly ever beat that?

“Little charmer, aren’t you?“ the doctor murmured with a delighted hum and took another sip of wine, “but yes, the trip was safe and without complications. The wine tastes great, by the way!“

Fareeha crinkled her nose and grimaced. “You know I don’t like wine at all, but as long as you enjoy it- hey, what are you up to?“

The darkhaired soldier watched Angela getting rid of her hairband and stared in awe. The way blonde hair gushed over the doctor’s slim shoulders was a sight she could never get tired of.

“Like what you see? You’re stariiing…“

The blonde giggled and blue eyes were filled with a slightly mischievous spark. Oh, the things she could do right now.

“Uhm… I like looking at you, but I think you figured this one already. Also… turtleneck sweater? Is it so cold over there?“

Angela tilted her head to catch a glimpse at the indoor thermometer. “15 degrees Celcius outside.“ She saw her beloved soldier bristle and curl up into her towel.

“Are you kidding me, Angela?? That is freaking cold!“ - “Just perfect for me“ the blonde answered with a smirk, “besides, looking at you on the couch like that… it’s getting really hot in here.“

Fareeha snorted and held back a laughter. “Yeah, right. Care to show me how hot?“ the egyptian woman suggested and licked her lips, amber colored eyes sparkled with hope.

“Aww Liebling, really now? I just arrived and you already want to see me strip?“

“Pretty, please?“

Angela giggled and looked around. “You little devil, insatiable as always~“

The doctor played with the hem of her turtleneck sweater, watching the soldier who was about to jump out of her seat any minute. For a second she contemplated but dropped her fingers with a grin. “Not now, love. We better save it for later.“

She heard a frustrated huff from the speakers of her notebook and tipped her head to the side. “I thought about getting a shower soon.“

“Nice! You could bring your notebook into the bathroom and let me watch, just a thought!“

Angela brought her index finger to her lips and pursed them into an adorable pout. “It’s not waterproof you know. Besides, I don’t want to make you all hot and bothered…“

Fareeha winced and fell back into the couch. “I am always hot and bothered without you and you know it!“

“Ja, ich weiß~“

The doctor sighed deeply and supported her back against the headrest. “You know… it would be nice to have you here. The bed feels so wide and empty without you. I don’t know how I am supposed to sleep without you next to me. Without your arms around me-“ she paused and starter to grin, “and without you snoring.“

The soldier groaned and put a hand at her chest.

“Ya amar, you’re breaking my soft little heart right now!“

Both shared a heartly laughter until they went silent.

“I miss you, Fareeha…“

“I miss you too, Angela. But… there is something else I miss as well.“

Angela lifted her finely curved brows. “Ja? What could it be?“

“I can’t find my Iron Maiden shirt!“ Fareeha whined and gestured at herself. “I was looking everywhere and I am pretty sure it was in the laundry basket. Do you know where it is?“

The doctor bit her lower lip to hide a grin and shook her head. “No idea, my love?“ As Angela turned over to grab her wine glass again the bedsheets shifted and offered a view on a piece of worn out black cloth with a band logo on it.

“Liar!“

“Huh?“

“You have it, it’s on your bed!“

Fareeha pouted and crossed her arms while Angela’s cheeks turned a shade of bright pink.

“Okay, you got me. I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your permission, but-“

“But?“

Angela looked a little embarrassed and lowered her gaze.

“… it smells so good.“

“Good?“ the soldier echoed in disbelief. She wore that thing for a few days, it smelled terrible!

“Yes, good. Like you- I… wanted to have it with me. To have you with me at night. I can’t sleep alone, not anymore.“

Silence. And then-

“Awwwwwwwwww!“

Fareeha’s lips warped into a wide smile.

“Actually, that is the cutest thing ever! Angela, since when are you such a sap?“

“Oh, shut it-“

“Never!“

The doctor sighed and grabbed the shirt, nestling her face into the clothing while the soldier’s heart almost exploded at that sight in front of her. She just wanted to hug and squish her beloved blonde angel.

“Stupid distance!“ she cussed and stared at the monitor.

“True. Next time, you come with me to Bern…“

Fareeha grinned and blew a kiss. “But only in summer!“

Angela looked up and pressed the shirt against her chest. “Only summer. Got it.“

Her fingers startes to touch the monitor and her eyes watered a little. Damn, she wanted her soldier to be there. Fareeha noticed the change of mood and was alarmed.

“Don’t cry, my love. It’s only a few days and I’ll be waiting for you, promised!“

“You always know the right things to say. How do you do that?“

The soldier flexed playfully.

“Because I love you…“

Her fingers reached for the monitor as well, mirroring Angela’s action until it looked like their fingertips were actually touching which brought a smile to both their faces.

“I love you too… Fareeha.“

It almost made the soldier cry as well and she had to turn her face away for a moment.

“We should get some sleep though, right? You need to be fit tomorrow!“

Angela nodded and sat up, blowing a kiss.

“I’ll catch you later. Gute Nacht, mein Schatz!“

Fareeha pretended to catch the kiss and placed it at her chest with a gentle smile.

“Good night~“

-to be continued?-

[mintycess14]

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[architectnews]

2020 Expo Dubai Entry Canopy: WonderCool

2020 Expo Dubai Entry Canopy Building, Architect, UAE Design Project Images

2020 Expo Dubai Entry Canopy Design

29 September 2021

Design: Woods Bagot UAE

Dubai Expo Entry Canopy : WonderCool

This is a beautiful installation among a host of amazing exhibits at one of the world’s best displays of the future of architecture and design.

Kaynemaile’s ‘WonderCool’ greets visitors at Dubai World Expo 2020

Canopy shields visitors from desert heat while providing calming sensory experience

NEW YORK SEPTEMBER, 2021. The first spectacle of architectural design to be encountered by the expected 25 million visitors to Dubai World Expo is the soaring kinetic shade canopy over the visitor arrivals hall.

The result of a collaborative design with Woods Bagot Architecture and Kaynemaile, the creators of architectural composite mesh systems, this 130,000 ft2 shade canopy acts as a passive heat management system for visitors waiting in 100-degree heat for security checks.

By day, the Kaynemaile canopy offers a cooling 70% shade protection for the visitors queuing to enter the World Expo, coupled with a calming sensory experience generated by the fluid movement of the 55 overhead screens running the length of the 60m long arrival hall.

This kinetic movement triggers not only air passage throughout the space, but also creates an interplay of shadow and light both on the ground and throughout the mesh layers overhead. Kaynemaile call this ‘the WonderCool Effect,’ bringing life and movement to static architectural spaces.

By night, an entirely different experience emerges as the canopy comes to life exhibiting dynamic light shows utilising the defusing and reflective qualities of the Kaynemaile mesh.

With 192 nations exhibiting in this once-in-five-year World Expo event, the leading architects, creatives, and constructors see this as “the Olympic Games of architecture and construction.”

“This is no ordinary shade canopy solution,” says Kaynemaile CEO and creative director Kayne Horsham. “As the ‘first impression’ installation at Dubai World Expo entrance, it needed to be visually dramatic and highly functional to reflect this international display of elite architectural creativity that is synonymous with this global exhibition.”

Kaynemaile was selected for this mammoth design, manufacturing, and installation task after 12 different traditional woven textiles and glass fibre materials failed in field testing for endurance in hot, dry, and windy conditions.

The New Zealand-based company has built and international reputation for its ‘can-do Kiwi’ approach to large-scale design challenges, coupled with an in-depth understanding of kinetic forces and how to maximize the unique flexural properties of its seamless material.

“The arc of our evolution over 15 years has been creating and patenting a manufacturing process through to delivering highly effective custom architectural solutions at scale throughout the world,” says Horsham.

Kaynemaile won ‘best new architectural product’ at the NYCxDesign Awards in 2019 and is installed on building exteriors as well as interiors in several U.S. cities including Los Angeles, Seattle, Detroit, Columbus, Atlanta, and New York. Internationally Kaynemaile has provided design solutions in Australia, China, Dubai, Germany, Italy, New Zealand, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, South Korea, the UK, and Vietnam.

Several U.S. installations are on car park building exteriors. A unique element of Kaynemaile is its solar reduction benefits to both the building it protects and indirectly the surrounding urban area (aka the Urban Heat Island). By protecting the building mass from direct sunlight and not restricting the cooling effects of air movement, Kaynemaile significantly reduces the total energy costs required to cool a building in hot climates.

The three-dimensional mesh structure means a high proportion of the mesh surface area is always in shade, giving a cooling effect as the air passes through the cross-sectional open area. It significantly reduces both radiant and thermal conductive heat from entering the building envelope by up to 70%. Unlike steel mesh products which act as conductive energy stores, Kaynemaile mesh remains at a near ambient temperature, thus protecting the building and surrounding environment from heat conduction.

In October 2019, only 12 months before the Covid-delayed Expo was scheduled to open, Kaynemaile was approached by Mace Group UAE, the technical consultants for the client Dubai World Trade Centre (DWTC). After validating their mesh as the only suitable material for this project, Kaynemaile then worked with Woods Bagot Architecture to co-develop and engineer a solution. After a four-month design process, the canopy was custom produced over three months in New Zealand at Kaynemaile’s precision manufacturing facility in the capital city Wellington in four high performance exterior colours to reflect the palette used throughout the space.

Kaynemaile mesh is crafted from lightweight engineering grade polycarbonate using their own patented injection moulding process. It is 100% recyclable and aligns with the circular economy approach to design and manufacturing. The inspiration for the innovative architectural product came from Kayne Horsham’s role as Weta Workshop Art Director for Creatures, Armor, and Weapons on the Academy Award-winning Lord of the Rings trilogy. Horsham was responsible for designing and prototyping all the armor systems used in making the films and became captivated by kinetic and visual effects of this ancient material.

For Dubai World Expo Kaynemaile have also conceptualised, designed, and created the living build façade of the New Zealand Pavilion located in the Sustainability District.

Unlike most of the 192 World Expo country pavilions which are destined for removal or redevelopment after the event closes, the DWTC arrival hall is considered a ‘legacy installation’ which means it will continue to create moments of wonder for many other events held at this massive convention centre and offer a cool space for those who pause and admire what is being called Kaynemaile’s ‘WonderCool’ canopy.

Dubai Expo Entry Canopy – Building Information

Client: Dubai World Trade Centre (DWTC) UAE Consultants: Mace Construction Architects: Woods Bagot UAE System design: Kaynemaile Lighting: C+D Lighting Material: Kaynemaile WonderCool Mesh Main contractor: Alec Engineering and Contracting Installation: Mr Shady

Woods Bagot

2020 Expo Dubai Entry Canopy: WonderCool images / information received 290921

Location: Jebel Ali, Dubai, UAE

Dubai 2020 Expo Pavilions

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2020 Expo Dubai Luxembourgish Pavilion Design: METAFORM Architects image courtesy of architects 2020 Expo Dubai Luxembourg Pavilion Building

Sustainability Pavilion for Expo 2020 Dubai Design: Grimshaw Architects image courtesy of architects Sustainability Pavilion for Expo 2020 Dubai

Dubai World Expo 2010 Masterplan Design: HOK / Populous 2020 Expo Dubai Pavilions by HOK / Populous

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Burj 2020 Dubai Tower in UAE Architects: RNL Design photo courtesy of architects BURJ 2020 Dubai Building

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