When I visited Kansas City last month, I stopped by the studio of a very good friend of mine who I met way back when in architecture school. He's hard to explain, but he's one of those guys who is bursting with so much talent that it fills up his eyes and oozes from his ears and makes you want to stand uncomfortably close to him just in case he sneezes, so that you might catch whatever it is that he has and then bottle it up and sell it to Merck for a hundred billion trillion bazillion dollars.
So he's kind of like that.
His office is housed in an art gallery and it's the sort of place you can lock yourself inside of and just produce, produce, produce, if you know what I mean.
These lights were over a farm table on the upper level and I walked past them six or ten times before leaping onto a nearby stool and engaging in a twenty minute make out session with the middle one, because OHMYGOSH, I seriously could not help myself. Those pale peach lipstick marks may or may not be mine, I admit to nothing.
The shades were huge, around twenty something inches in diameter, so it would have made much more sense to remove one from the ceiling and stuff it into my postage stamp size purse, obviously, but I'm pretty certain that sort of thing is considered theft, and no one needs to contribute to that little internet rumor going around, least of all me. So I took a photo instead, and I'm determined to figure out where they were born. If you happen to know, please email me the information, and I'll make sure that we make a home for them in The Kitchen, ohmygosh we need to talk about The Kitchen.