Epoque
12 creative works found
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At the masquerade ball held at her favorite boite, La Grenouille Grincheuse (“The Grumpy Frog”), Mathilde d’Asperge contemplates giving in to temptation. Ah, the allure of the Green Fairy, who could resist? Surely the dashing Duke Throbbleton would see her home safely should she become…indisposed. He hadn’t seemed to mind last week, but then again, she was a bit fuzzy on the details. Just a small glass or two and she would be just in time for a midnight ride on the enthralling Royal Hippodrome, ballooning under a crescent moon as Paris lay glittering beneath her feet! You, of course, are most cordially invited to join her…
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For the occasion of the Edwardian Ball, San Francisco, 24 January 2008. A la Sargent. Been a long time…
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Clothilde supposed she had no one to blame but herself. She was always too timid and whenever she was out with friends and the absinthe was ordered, she would demurely decline their offers even though she was dying to try it. She had heard such fascinating but frightening stories of revelry and debauchery! So decline she had again, this very evening and had said her goodbyes to her already glassy-eyed mates to make her way home to her quiet little flat. Hurrying home, berating herself for her lack of adventuresome spirit, Clothilde almost scuttled straight past a store she had never seen before. This was odd because the building was very old, almost crumbling in places, and an eerie green light illuminated a faded sign reading “Mme. Hypnotique’s Apothecary”. It had started to drizzle and Clothilde told herself that she was just stepping inside to get out of the rain for a moment. She barely had time to take in the shelves upon shelves of dust covered bottles before the surprisingly elegant chemist materialized beside her. She thrust a bottle of absinthe in Clothilde’s hands and whispered urgently in French, “Be careful!” Then she was gone in a blur of long dark hair and a cloud of essence of anise before Clothilde could even ask after the price. She carefully laid a few francs on the counter and made her way home. She remembered fetching some sugar cubes and a pitcher of water, but nothing much after that. And now, here she was, perched on a crescent moon in a green night sky with black bird wings sprouting from her shoulders. Maybe this is why Maman always said one should never drink alone… This original artwork is copyright Ramona Szczerba 2009. Copyright is not transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – image cannot be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!
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Kambriel di Lorenzia, born in Genoa and raised in Venice, had an abiding passion for cowboys. Perhaps it was all the water surrounding her, but she could watch westerns (spaghetti or otherwise) all day long. Those grizzled cowboys staring, squinty-eyed, over vast and dusty plains – they captured her imagination like nothing else. Once she had finished university, she begged for a trip to the west where she was sure she would find some real life cowboys guiding their horses through solemn throngs of brooding buffalo. Sitting in a decrepit diner in the middle of Oklahoma, choking down what passed for a cup of coffee, she could not remember being more disappointed. Where were the ghost towns? Where were the Indians? Where were the damn cowboys??? Poking around in her purse for some change to pay the bill, she glanced up to see a tall drink of water of a man in the doorway, backlit by the setting sun. She drew in her breath so quickly, she inhaled her horrible coffee and began coughing violently. He was at her table in a flash, proffering his outstretched hand: “Lozenge?” he drawled. Kambriel nearly swooned. Her coughing fit culminated in a decidedly un-dainty sneeze and the man did an admirable job of suppressing a laugh. He tipped his hat towards her and put out his hand again: “Dallas Dorado at your service, ma’am.” She invited him to sit down in her broken English, and soon was telling him of the Old West she had hoped to visit. The very next day he accompanied her to a real life Indian reservation at which she purchased the gen-you-wine handcrafted pipe you see here, and some special “tobacky” that Dallas recommended. She never stopped to think where Indians might have found a giant nautilus shell in land-locked Oklahoma, but never mind. And back in Venice, every time she smoked the pipe, she was visited by the most fantastic creatures, just as the old Indian promised she would be. He called them Spirit Guides. Kambriel called them the old west she had dreamed of and so much more. / This original artwork and story are copyright Ramona Szczerba 2008. Neither image nor story can be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!
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During my band’s second national tour, we played a date in Asbury Park, where we had the pleasure of bedding down at the Berkeley-Carteret for the night. I had vivid dreams while tucked into that enormous fin-de-seicle bed. Dreams of women in white lawn dresses strolling on the boardwalk, arm in arm with men in skimmer hats and seersucker suits. Asbury Park stayed with me; as Morrissey put it, “a seaside town they forgot to close down.” Incidentally, for you fellow history geeks out there, Berkeley and Carteret were the two English aristocrats who, after a good deal of confusion and changing-of-hands, founded the colony of New Jersey.
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In celebration of Mother’s Day, I bring you a print of my mom’s Mother’s Day card, depicting the lovely Rosamond and her quirky little companion, Cletus. Best wishes to all the mothers out there! “Belle Epoque” has been featured in the Art Nouveau group.
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My dear friend Antoine had just returned from a tour of India and had brought me back a gift of a hookah. It was an exceptionally beautiful item, crafted of blown opalescent glass and gilt in fine designs accented with jewels. I was beside myself with delight – I had always secretly wanted one. I couldn’t wait to have this exotic item lounging casually on my coffee table. “Well, let’s try it out!” said Antoine, extracting a small velveteen pouch from his pocket. I gave up smoking some time ago and my hookah fantasies had never ventured much past the purely decorative, but I was feeling adventuresome. “Hey, how about some coffee to go with?” he suggested, indicating a special blend he had brought back as well. He busied himself with the hookah and I busied myself with the French press and we bubbled and sipped for some time thereafter out on the back porch, under the light of a very bright, full moon. I felt more than a little peculiar and concluded that Antoine’s tobacco blend must be especially strong. Eventually his jet lag kicked in and he regretfully called it a night and went home. I went back out on the porch and stared, wide-eyed, at the ponderous moon, recalling why I don’t ever drink coffee after 2:00 pm. I glanced at the offending cup and saw this very entity hovering about 2 inches above it, clutching a diminutive donut. I calmly closed my eyes, rubbed them very hard, took a deep breath and opened them again. She was still there. There was also a small lizard twining its tail around my teaspoon. I began to wonder just what the hell Antoine had me smoking. After taking a delicate bite out of her donut, she informed me that she was a Java Goddess, an ancient deity who had been trapped in the heart of the bean and released with the aroma of the brew. Also, her lizard’s name was Sumatra. “That’s nice” I said, slowly backing away, “You two make yourselves perfectly comfortable – help yourselves to anything you’d like. I have to go to bed now”. I made a mad dash for a bottle of Ambien and figured that I would realize I’d been dreaming in the morning. But of course, the next morning I found donut crumbs in a saucer and tiny lizard prints on my teaspoon. And that coffee? I have brewed a pot of it every morning for the past 2 years and I haven’t run out of it yet. The goddess hasn’t visited me again, but maybe she will visit you. Original measures 5” x 7” x ¾” and features vintage images, Thai lace paper, German Dresden trim and is accented by small sparkling crystals, a silver mask and a lovely piece of passementerie at the bottom. More information on original here: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=14719934 This piece would be lovely in a kitchen or a breakfast nook… This original artwork and story are copyright Ramona Szczerba 2008. Copyright to this material is in no way transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – neither image nor story can be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks! A special tip o’ the tophat to Collette.
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Original is 11”x 14” watercolor with inkline. Ah, to live a life of debauchery… / Part of a “Vice” series. This original artwork is copyright Ramona Szczerba 2000. Image cannot be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!
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... fractal
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1900, a streetlamp. / A rose, a sunset in sepia. / A poetry – my poetry.
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In a village, near Nice, many printed materials are sold. / Here you see a copy of the work of Toulouse-Lautrec . / Toulouse Lautre is a famous and immortal French painter. / He lived and worked in Paris during the late19 th century. / Lautrec particularly enjoyed cabarets. / One of his haunts,Le Chat Noir, was taken by the singer / Aristide Bruant. / Artist and singer become close friends and Lautrec made / posters featuring Bruant with his dark jacket, wide black hat, / bright red scarf and scowling features. / Now, In France, we can find his picture on posters, lithographs / or materials recalling La Belle Epoque .
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Photo prise au Musée du Louvre, Paris, en mai 2008 Photo taken at the Musée du Louvre, Paris, may 2008
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