Sunday, December 4, 2011

Villa Finale, Walter Mathis Homestead in San Antonio's King William Historic District

!±8± Villa Finale, Walter Mathis Homestead in San Antonio's King William Historic District

Walter Mathis and now, the National Historic Trust, operate the site, Villa Finale in San Antonio's King William Historic District. For both local history and European artifacts, culture and art, the house is worth an afternoon tour.

With much oral history, facts are scarce.

The land that Villa Finale sits on was part of an original Spanish land grant to the Canary Island pioneers. In the not too distant history, the land was arable agrarian land for The Alamo. The Mission de Bexar. Yes, that Alamo.

The street that runs a few blocks east of Villa Finale is South Alamo. Runs in front of The Alamo, then follows a course that runs north-south, then east-west, then turns north-south again. The local joke is that cattle paths were used to choose streets. In this case, though, it was a waterway. The strange twists and turns of the local topography was dictated water sources, both natural and manmade.

Walter Mathis would trace part of his family lineage back to the Canary Island pioneers, proving that Villa Finale was destiny.

Standing in the front, looking at the house itself, the style is mid-1850 Italianate. The stylized front porch and tower were not added until the decade between 1895 and 1905.

The fun part, for me, I heard two different salaried curators claim the house was built in 1863 and 1873, and from the material, the accepted date was 1873, built by an Englishman named Norton. It was four square, just 4 rooms with a fireplace in each room, the typical quarried limestone with an unfinished surface. Mr. Norton had the front door shipped over from England, intact, a huge, carved door frame and door, with an imposing look. In a neighborhood that was largely - named King William - mercantile German class, he was the solo English holdout.

Norton lost the house to foreclosure, and it changed hands two more times, with the last family in the 1890s not leaving without a fight.

During that time, the back section of the house, a large kitchen and cellar, was added.

And we haven't even stepped inside yet.

There are two magnificent lions flanking the front walk. Walter Mathis was a Leo, but no, those were Victorian affectations, as were two ceremonial cannons. Mr. Mathis told tales about the early days when the neighborhood was rough, he would wake to find his cannons dragged across the yard, resting against the fence, as they were really too heavy to lift over.

Standing in the front yard, on the front walk, it is near-impossible to imagine that it was a seedy, or "bad," neighborhood. One of my clients, grew up maybe two miles south, as he was growing up, he was admonished to "Stay out of trouble, stay out of King William!" Looking a the stately trees and elegant mansions, it's hard to believe.

San Antonio has two primary industries, military and hospitality. At the end of World War One, the name for the district was changed, the King Wilhelm was none too popular. Returning troops were frequently billeted in the grand mansions, and Villa Finale itself was cut up into 8 apartments.

By the early 1960s, the neighborhood was in a sad state. In the ensuing interval, facts are sketchy, but Villa Finale had been a bawdy house, an illicit casino, a speakeasy, and a bordello. Walter Mathis denied the bordello to his dying day, but I heard it from a sweet little old lady in the neighborhood. She was instructed never to walk on that side of the street - her parents were afraid she would be pressed into service.

In the mid-sixties, Mr. Mathis could tell his then-current home was in the path of the city's first big freeway project, 281. He moved his nascent arts and architecture collection into storage and began searching for a new home. The 'Villa Finale' name was chosen because he wanted it to be his last home. It was.

He bought the place in 1967, starting renovations immediately, but he lived downtown in a hotel until partway through the project.

The "Fire & Casualty" insurance companies often did plats of the land. In one from 1894, Villa Finale had no porch and no tower, while both did show up in the 1905 plat. The porch and tower were added were added in the interim, but not enough data surveys to be more exact. The insurance companies did the plats so there was a map for ingress for the volunteer fire departments, in the event of fire.

At the front porch, the Norton entrance is marveled, then guests are instructed to pull on booties, durable yet protective slippers to help preserve what Walter Mathis built. The ceiling on the front porch is painted sky blue, and while it is patent folklore, the reason is to keep the mosquitoes away. Allegedly.

The entrance, the hall and entrance is marked by an overwhelming amount of art. It was his wish that everything be left where he placed it. There are over 12,000 objects in the collection. For the last few years of his life, a National Historic Trust person acted as a personal curator and carefully noted most of the tales associated with the various collections.

On December 8, 1941, Walter Mathis went over to Randolph Army Base and signed up as pilot. He went on to fly (purported) 96 mission over occupied Europe -WW2 - facts and myths.

One of the most famous collections is the Napoleon Collection. Entering the hallway, then leading to the first door on the right, careful not to touch anything, under the tower, there, is the beginning of the collection.

It's worth noting that Mr. Mathis wanted a home filled with music. To that end, in the middle of the front room, under that tower, there is a, forgive my bad German, "Bechstein-Weltz" reproducing piano.

"Like a player piano?"

Yes, and no. It is a German machine that looks like piano, has mechanical innards, and ran - runs - on an air compressor that Mr. Mathis located in the basement.

I've been told that the piano still runs, think of it as a steam-driven piano. The difference is that a great composer or pianist would sit down and record a performance on a roll of paper, and that was played. Cabinet, far left, stage left, over in the corner, had scroll and rolls of paper for the piano. Turn of the century iPod. The paper rolls were the mp3s.

Asked what single object he would grab, if the house was on fire, Walter Mathis was proudest of his "genuine" Napoleon death mask. "One of six," is the party line.

Apparently, there is a History Channel special about the cottage industry of Napoleon Death Masks. Worthy of some attention. Seems like there might be more than just a half-dozen. It's worth noting that this was one of the few originals, probably less than a dozen like it - provenance with museum curators is tricky business.

Napoleon was a favorite, and towards that end, Villa Finale is now part of the Franco-Bexar group, as there are more Napoleon memorabilia here than in most museums. As a military man, Walter Mathis admired Napoleon's tactics.

The cabinets, the table-tops, the furniture itself, most, if not all, Empire-Revival. French, from around 1840. The "Egyptian" flavor is woven into the art, after all, Napoleon did "conquer" Egypt and some of the Pan-Arab world.

Because I was being trained when the house was being restored, I got to see a few things off the wall, like a ceremonial sword and scabbard arrangement that hangs high, like an Xmas tree star, over one set of Napoleon lithographs.

"Sheer panic in the curator's eyes when she pulled that one down; it really is held together with twine."

The windows now have UV coating the prevent fading. New paint, and everything has been cleaned and replaced in its original pace, per the behest and bequest.

Most of the furniture in the front rooms has been recovered, by Mathis, with one exception, there's a green ottoman/footstool that is in the original material from the 1840s. Note the large mirror over the mantle. Next room, more Napoleon collections, mirror over the mantle, odd military objects, a collections of dog figurines, various tokens, souvenirs, and my favorite, a pair of ivory-carved triptychs, which unfold and show Napoleon's victories and his wife, which shows her greatest accomplishment, marrying Napoleon.

"I hope you find the humor there," I add.

Back into the hall, along one wall, there are two pictures from the "pasta" school of Italian art, one clearly shows a medieval St. Mark's Square, in Venice. I called it the "pasta" school because I could never remember the name of the group. In those two paintings, every, there seems to be hundreds, but every figure is busy doing something.

Split between the paintings is a "cranberry glass" fountain, looks like an hourglass, only, with San Antonio's hard water, it's now all crusted up. The site is waiting on a grant to get this piece preserved. It still has water in it, and supposedly worked until his death.

Turn around, big painting on the wall, "Lazarus and the Money Changers," bible story. The painting spent the better part of a year in Austin, getting conserved. Means an expert in Austin spent months cleaning the large image with a proverbial Q-tip and jeweler's loupe. Before it was restored, I can point to two images, a monkey and a cat, and neither were visible before the conservation.

There are six or seven bronze sculptures int he front hallway, too. Four of them are actual "Barrié," a well-known French "animalieé," excuse my bad French spelling, doing this from memory. From where I stand, I have two bronzes at my fingertips. The real Barrié, the horse looks like a real horse, while the one next to it, it looks like an idealized horse. Turn back around, flanking the fountain are two gold-looking candelabras with stags wrapped around the center column. More from Barrie. Unusual in that he did very few candelabras and even fewer wild animals, like the stags.

The route is a vague figure eight, now, back into the doorway that is opposite from front Napoleon parlors, it's the Library.

The wall is lined with books, and from eye-level on up, the books are fancy, frequently leather-bound, pretty editions of classics. Books that were picked for looks as much as content. However, from six feet, and under, the books are history, historical, and some auction-house catalogs. To this day, the estate still receives various catalogs from international art houses.

When the house was being renovated by the Historic Trust, instead of pulling all the books off the shelves, then boxing them up, carting them off, bringing them back and re-shelving them, the books were left in place. Less chance of damage.

The chandelier was rescued from the Mary Bonner estate, and the ceiling had to be reinforced to support that behemoth of a lighting fixture. I was there when the fixture was down, to be rewired and brought up to current code, and the electricians, it took three large men, to haul that chandelier back into place. Weighed over 300 pounds.

In one corner of the library, there's another series of Barrie sculptures, there's another set of lions flanking the fireplace, and in one corner, I ask, which saint is it?

San Antonio, TX? It's Saint Anthony. This is a meter-tall figure that rescued from a church in Mexico, and Mathis turned him into a lamp. Always the preservationist, the saint's figure is attached at the base but the lamp doesn't really touch the figure. Over the doorway, leading to the next room, the dining room, now, there is a collection of Eastern Orthodox saints, most with complete silver cladding. I can't tell, don't recall, if they are Russian Orthodox, Eastern Orthodox, or Greek Orthodox. One of them. All look about the same, to me. The sliver cladding was to protect the icons from constant touching, part of that faith's belief.

The floor of the library has the most unique persian rug I've ever seen. While it's background motif is sky blue, the language across the top of the rug is Farsi (Persian), and the images depict Adam and Eve getting expelled from the garden of Eden.

Mr. Mathis was quite fond of religious art; however, he was not allied with any church, not after his Episcopal tore down a building that he wanted to save. Paved it for a church parking lot. He never went back.

The dining room has a several notable collections. There is a huge amount of silver, two upright wooden urns for place settings, as well as three separate chests, full. There's a stand-up display that has a number of cow-creamers. My name's Kramer, cow-Kramers, I like them. All silver.

On his mother's side, he was related to the Bell Family, the great silver dynasty in San Antonio. Up on one shelf in the dining room there's a favorite piece, it's a shell-shaped piece of silver with a tiny model of a sailing ship, at the pinnacle. It's a gravy boat.

The art hanging at one end of the dining table is 'Sybil and the Tarquin,' the last of the pagan roman emperors, and she was a seer.

I like to point out that I'm not known for my good tastes, and when I pass judgement, keep my tastes in mind. Frequently, I shouldn't be allowed to dress myself.

The centerpiece setting is mismatch of color and culture. It is burgundy cut-glass, inlaid with semi-precious gems, gilt gold and silver with camels and lions. The story is, this is the very centerpiece that rode through the Suez Canal, on its opening, with Queen Victoria, in her barge.

Finally, there's selection of painting along one wall, and they include a rare Julian Onerdonck from Williamson County. In his era and to this day, he is still widely regarded as a premier Texas Impressionist painter.

The mirror hanging in the dining room looks like the same frames as in the Napoleon Parlour and sitting rooms. The tale told, passed on to me in training, is that the mirrors were gifts. Mr. Mathis was marching through recently liberated France, and he happened upon a bombed out mansion, owned by the town's mayor. Mathis was digging around in his pickets, scraping together a few dollars, to pay for the mirrors, and the mayor begged Mathis to accept them as a gift for freeing their country from Fascist German oppression.

The mirrors showed up in Houston, a few years later, with freight due. Unclear on what it was, Mr. Mathis reluctantly accepted the bill, and he was overjoyed to find his treasures - the people of France remembered him. The last mirror was left un-re-silvered, possibly just for the telling of the tale.

Out the dining room door, into the hallway, again, peek around the corner at the base of the magnificent stairwell, and there's the Violano Virtuoso. This was from the old Pearl Brewery's bar, the Buckhorn Saloon, from 1883. By the sixties, this unusual piece had made its way to Walter Mathis's collection. I've seen it work, more than once. It has two player-violins, and a player piano, all in a single case. Plays a waltz. Either disturbing, musically, or amusing, from a gadget point of view. Wind up and listen to it play a waltz.

Up the stairs, in the stairwell itself, the downstairs is primarily European while the upstairs starts the Americas collections. The first is the art while climbing the stairs. It's from South America, a centuries old school, the combination of the Spanish masters and the local color shows up with the amount of gold gilt used, throughout. Some strange interpretations, too.

Upstairs...

Turn the corner and there's another piano, under a display - along the wall - of more South American santos as well as relics gathered in Mexico. Starting in 1910, much of the Catholic church's hold on the land was released during revolution, and the relics eventually found there way here. There was one intern, summer before the Villa Finale opened, all she did was polish the silver that on top of the upstairs piano.

From the hallway, it's a left into the Periwinkle Room. The color is available from Lowe's, just ask for 'Villa Finale Periwinkle.'

Among artworks and other items, there are two cases of note. Along one wall, there's a collection of over 300 stick-pins. Walter Mathis got his first stick-pin from his grandmother, and that started his life-long obsession with collections and preservation.

Walter Mathis, especially with his huge collection of religious artifacts, he wasn't a church-goer. He was until his downtown Episcopal Church tore down a historic structure, an old house, historic house, to make way for a parking lot. He resigned and never went to another church. Never looked back, as they say.

There's a huge assortment of watches and timepieces, but more interesting, to me, is the collection of shaving mugs. Started when he was fifteen, the mugs capture the essence of a time gone by. The mugs are displayed in a pair of custom-built cabinets that were designed to reflect the architecture of his manse. As ephemeral data points, the mugs are marketing from a day gone by, and the shaving mugs differ from, like, a coffee cup, since there is a little shelf for a bar of soap and the shaving brush.

One of the curators worked at a site in California, talked about the importance of the historical value of the shaving mugs.

It's a two-step into the Yellow Room. Artwork, a throne, stairs to the tower, and a set of columns, rescued from his home in Monte-Vista. There's an odd collection of Staffordshire figures, and one is more curious, looks like Ben Franklin but it's labeled, "Geo. Washington."

Staffordshire ceramics was likely produced by child labor.

Shaving stands, sewing kits, Walter Mathis bemoaned the fact that he was a Victorian, born a hundred years too late.

Tucked against one wall, there's a set piece that is identical to one in Maximilian's palace in Mexico City. Another guide posited the connection - downstairs, Napoleon - upstairs, his illegitimate son -

The master of the house, Walter Mathis, in an apparent humorous display, he had a gold cherub with its chubby little butt pointed towards the center of the room.

The valences, over the windows, when the restorer was working, she'd heard that the valences were from a plantation in Mississippi. Or near Houston, never got the straight story on that, but they were removed for the new paint, and it turns out, it was bit of a puzzle to put them back on, as they were different sizes.

The sketch up on the wall is an Edouard Leon study of a Mounet (?) - best part of that? It was a 'lady of substance,' and that caused quite the scandal. A 'lady of substance' wasn't supposed to pose for a common artist's works.

Back into the hall, and it's painter time. One of the most exquisite paintings is one of the Onerdonk's of Prickly Pear in Bloom.

There's another painting, at the bottom, and it's one of the few that was done while Onerdonk was in studying in New York, mentioned in his letters. There are the usual amazing bluebonnet paintings, too. What he was a famous for.

There's one painting, inscribed to Walter Mathis's mother, 'From a little friend, to a little friend, in a little friendly way.'

Passing around the corner is another bedroom, there's a wooden-press. Flower press? Probably a blanket press, since there's was a strong tie with Rockport, and the Rockport Quilt Guild.

The small bedroom has his parents' wedding bed. It came from St. Louis, down the Mississippi River, where it was loaded on another boat and delivered to Rockport. According to the myth, one or more of his brothers and/or sisters was born in that bed.

More interesting, though, is the array of the family tree, mother on the right side, father on the left, tracing back through the generations.

In the front room, visible from the bedroom, has an array of Victorian memorabilia, Bristol Glass, a peacock, beaded purses, antique calling cards and Victorian card clips. There is a large carved ivory 'china' boat, and an allegedly working Victrola, hand-crank type of record player.

During the great flood of 2007, this room suffered water damage. Like many men of similar vintage, Mr. Mathis insisted on doing his own maintenance, and that suffered towards the end. Hence the water damage.

Back in the hall, opposite from the piano, there's a large sideboard with a glass front. It's 'Century Glass,' souvenir glass from the St. Louis worlds fair, circa, 1904. Another grandmother gift. The collection was embellished when the McNay (museum) asked to display it. Walter collected some more, just to make sure the museum had an adequate presentation.

Around the corner is a bathroom - passing a small glass case with another selection of naughty clock faces, slightly 'PG' by modern standards, but risqué by pre-modern mores.

Step into Walter Mathis's bedroom. Although he lived downtown at a hotel, during his renovation, he eventually moved into this bedroom, over the kitchen. The wallpaper was vinyl, faux-linen, and it peeled off with that water damage. During the National Trust's restoration, a chance encounter yielded up some of the matching wallpaper.

Much of the artwork in his bedroom is from an engraver named 'Currier,' as in, 'Currier and Ives,' before there was an Ives. Much of the Currier art is from the Mexican-American War (1842 - marched as far as Mexico City).

Walters Mathis was proud of his Texas heritage.

Many of the quilts are Christmas themed, as Walter passed in December, it was his wish that the house be preserved just as he left it.

A four-thousand square foot mansion stuffed with art, the common assumption is that he inherited wealth. His family lost it all in the Great Depression, and Walter Mathis did this on his own. Never married, but he was engaged, at least twice, which might be part of it, but the larger part was he was one of the youngest members of the New York Stock Exchange, after the war, and as an investment banker, his biggest win was brokering the Pepsi-Frito Lay deal. Towards that end, his favorite drink was rum and Cherry Pepsi, while he never allowed coke products in the house.

Beyond the bedroom, there's sitting room, complete with a kitchenettes installed for him. Along one wall, there's a selection of Texan currency, bills from the Republic of Texas. I point out, that, in London, there's a small plaque, designating where the Texas Legate was, 1842-1845.

There are a number of Texas maps along one of the walls, one of which is a favorite as it shows the western border of the great state of Texas to be the Rio Grande, and that map includes the headwaters of the Rio Grande - all the way to Canada.

T. Gentilz was a surveyor, working for Henri Castro. As such, T. Gentilz would travel between Castroville and San Antonio, taking about three days to complete the journey. He would stop along the way and sketch, draw, paint local color. There are several completed painting, one that seems incomplete, one art historian insists it's the 'queen' of the San Antonio missions, San Jose.

There is another painting, part of the collection, but to an unlettered and untutored eye, the style and execution is so different, I'm inclined to believe it was a forgery or fake. One local art historian, who knew Walter, suggested that Walter knew it was a fake, but loudly insisted it wasn't. Oral tradition versus real provenance.

The door that leads to the back porch also leads to back stairs. Included in this flight is a short set of step that lead to some kind of cabinet, or sewing nook. Top of the flight of stairs, there is a collection of circus figures, probably porcelain, and another allegedly working phonograph, the Edison variety with a clearly visible hand-crank and wax cylinder for the recording.

Down the stairs, it's a narrow staircase, certainly not ADA-compliant, and potentially dangerous for the loose carpets, there is the most magnificent collection of paintings and prints.

The bulk of the collection, from what I've gathered, came from the purchase of the Mary Bonner Estate. What I was told, Mary Bonner went to Paris to study painting, and one teacher told her that she din't have the strength to be a painter so she should look at print-making instead.

Relying on her native San Antonio background, her prints of cowboys and similar Texas-themes became the toast of France.

It happens. They love Texans. You do know, Texas is bigger than France?

The Mary Bonner collection, alone it that back stairwell is enough to render the whole trip worthwhile.

There are several sketches of the missions, again, later Mary Bonner works.

The stairs unwind into the kitchen. This was a working kitchen. Rumor has it, the refrigerator still has frozen foods, left over from before the Historic Trust took over.

There's all kinds of flatware, cookware, Wedge Wood, and China. The story is, one plate was used for serving until Walter Mathis found out the value of the platter. Now on the wall.

The woodwork itself was rescued and repurposed from the Sullivan House, another casualty in San Antonio's growth.

Because it was a real, working kitchen, the spices that were "pretty," and had "eye-appeal," those spices were displayed. The shuttered cupboard, now and office, held the unattractive spices. There are jars of pasta and candy, sweets and so forth, and they haven't been changed, at least not yet. Probably won't be touched, looks fine, seems preserved.

The chandelier in the kitchen, kind of a hideous pastiche of glazed, colored glass, wood and brass? The story is, it was in the front room, originally. Walter Mathis had taken it to a consignment shop, and some guy offered him 0, on the spot, for the chandelier. When queried why, Walter was going to sell it for , these are 1969 Dollars, so that was a great deal of money, then the prospective buyer pointed out that the lamp, chandelier, was signed by Tiffany. A real Tiffany Lamp.

(Provenance on this is suspect, too. Very suspect.)

It now hangs high overhead in the kitchen.

Adjacent to the kitchen is the Butler's Pantry, with a full wet-bar, the wood work more of the rescued cabinetry.

Finally, the Pewter Room. At this point, I'm out of energy, having talked for the better part of 45 minutes or so, and quite tired. Pewter Room. Lots of pewter on the shelf, beer steins, and the Rhine Maiden.

Another gloriously hideous chandelier, actually, an antique Bier Garten. candelabra, from the old country. Came from a German Saloon with German immigrants, perhaps a little before the Villa Finale was built. By the turn of the century, it wound up at the Buckhorn Saloon, open during Prohibition, to make it's way to Walter's back den. Ride of the Valkyries? Yes, that kind of Rhine Maiden, cf., Wagner's Ring Cycle, first and last opera. She was supposed to guard the gold in the Rhine.

The other bizarre piece is a very art nouveau lamp. The threesome. Kind of hard to tell, but looks like two naked women intertwined with a single topless guy. Story was, he bought this as a tabletop lamp, and at close to five or six feet tall, it doesn't really set well on a tabletop, but that's what it is now.

Out the back door, onto the back porch. It's easy to see, while getting off the booties, where the new stuff had been added on the original building. Underneath the back portion, a cellar was added.

One of the owners, owned the Casino when it was located n downtown San Antonio, and when the Prohibition hit, moved his operation to his cellar. Unverified. Gambling operations, bawdy house, speakeasy, all by reputation, but not substantiating facts support the allegations.

Once the booties are off, there's a small arc around the building Walter Mathis's ashes are interred under a small flag, the small gatehouse and the big carriage house serves as onsite offices for some, plus a bathroom and lockers for over-sized purses.

The original plan for this section of the RiverWalk was to carve through the Villa Finale property, imminent domain and all. Mr. Mathis, as a civic leader and patron of the arts, fought city hall - and won. Look a the aerial plat, and the river's course bends around his property.

There are three friezes, set in the southern wall, borders the property. Same artist as the Cenotaph for the Alamo, downtown.

The tour concludes in the wrought-iron gazebo, cupola. Walter's niece was married there, in the spring of 1970, and the hose has been, like a museum, ever since.

Family members have toured Villa Finale, and the most common comment, "Wow, just like he left it, except now, everything is so clean...."


Villa Finale, Walter Mathis Homestead in San Antonio's King William Historic District

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Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Part 1 - The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame (Chs 01-05)

Part 1. Classic Literature VideoBook with synchronized text, interactive transcript, and closed captions in multiple languages. Audio courtesy of Librivox. Read by Mark F. Smith. Playlist for The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame: www.youtube.com

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Sunday, October 23, 2011

Wall Sconces - Everything You Want or Need to Know

!±8± Wall Sconces - Everything You Want or Need to Know

The use of wall scones in home décor dates back to prehistoric times when it is believed that an outcropping of stone in a cave dwelling presented a great opportunity for the placement of an archaic bowl of animal fat equipped with an equally archaic wick. Through the years, wall sconces experienced a few changes but the basic design stayed pretty much the same. From candles to hurricane lamps to gaslight to electrical bulbs and electric candles, wall sconces have remained an extremely popular home lighting option. The reason why wall sconces have been so popular in the past and remain so today is that they can be placed on the wall, which frees up floor space, and they cast a greater spread of light than other lower lighting sources such as table and floor lamps. For this reason, wall sconces are a great way to brighten up small spaces such as entryways, hallways and bathrooms.

Today you can find wall sconces to compliment any style of décor. No matter whether you prefer the Old World styles of yesterday or prefer a modern Contemporary flair, there is a style of wall sconce to perfectly accent your individual tastes and decorating style. You can also choose from many types of wall sconces including candle sconces, electric bulb sconces and electric candle wall sconces. Once you choose the wall sconces that are perfect for your interior space, it is very important to consider their placement. A poorly placed wall sconce is glaringly noticeable and will not achieve the desired lighting effect. In fact, a painful eyeful of blinding white light from a poorly placed wall sconce may turn off your visitors to your entire décor.

To ensure the proper placement of your wall sconces, follow these few simple steps for placement.

While most experts recommend placing wall sconces five feet above the floor and ten feet apart, others say that wall sconces should be placed much higher, like 5 ½ to six feet, especially in rooms with high or vaulted ceilings.

When choosing the height to place your wall sconces, you should also consider the height of the people who live in your home and the height of those who are likely to visit. If you have an extremely tall family, you may have to place your wall sconces a little higher than most to avoid blinding everyone.

Wall sconces should be placed where they can best highlight other points of interest in a room and not overpower them. You should also take into consideration your furnishings and seating areas when deciding where to place your wall sconces. Make sure that the wall sconces add to the atmosphere and experience of your room not detract from it. When placing wall sconces in an area such as a hallway, make sure that your sconce layout is balanced. You can do this by placing wall sconces 8 to 10 feet apart in a staggered pattern for the length of your hallway.

Wall sconces can be a beautiful addition to any décor, but they can also detract from your décor if not used properly. By taking a few extra minutes to consider the placement of your wall sconces, you can be sure that the addition of these lighting fixtures to your home will have a stunning effect.


Wall Sconces - Everything You Want or Need to Know

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Thursday, October 13, 2011

"Death-Love, In Oakland Cemetery" ((A Story Of Horror)(Second Revision)(Part One Of Two))

!±8± "Death-Love, In Oakland Cemetery" ((A Story Of Horror)(Second Revision)(Part One Of Two))

(Horror Poetry: a strange poetic prose story of death meets love in Oakland Cemetery-face to face-in St. Paul, Minnesota, November, 1971)

We were alone, her and I (she was twenty, I twenty-four), beyond a mound or two, two-hundred yards east of us, were gravediggers; almost everyone had gone, left the cemetery, and the gates were locked (they lock the gates at 5:30 PM sharp to the front entrance of Oakland Cemetery, the side gate would be used by the diggers, to go home; the arc lights had just come on. She, Isabella de La Ree, had a bag; it had weight to it, Isabella looked at me, as a wolf would to its prey, if ever a face showed imminent death, hers did (almost a sorry face, with grim, slim wrinkles of love)! Then I noticed her crucifix was upside down, rays with images of anguish, of orange, purple and red, fell on them, from the lower world I'd guess. I looked towards the gravediggers they were gone (there was such a stillness, quietness in the cemetery now), I could hear the last sounds of their footsteps-as if descending down a spiral stairway, leaving us alone, for it was a full moon, and they knew something was stirring in this prodigious night.

I pulled out a flashlight from my jacket pocket, it was fall, and a chill was in the evening air (tons and tons of leaves everywhere, piles of them, racked by the caretaker, I could even smell some burnt leaves, the smell is indistinguishable, and very suitable to me); it would be dark soon, near winter, the sun has a menial task, it rises quick, and descends fast, and twilight, without a word glares like a lamp of mist, half full, flickering rays of rose-colored clouds, sandy moon above it, it is like a stammering drunk, and the lamp lit moon, this evening, seemed to full, and wanted to fall, it was right over us, over our heads, with sharp-looking teeth-carved by the shades and shadows that crept through its light.

Then a cat began to cry as if it was fighting with a rat, which squealed a long agonized weeping squeal, both as if in pain, as if in a love and death exchange, another and another cry came, seeping into the wind, almost in echoes surrounding the cemetery, they were somewhere beyond the grasp of me, in this gloom of the night. And they became louder and sharper cries, that of a ripping-death, as if flesh and more flesh were being ripped to shreds. Then the sounds died down, and I seemed to sink into a morbid chill.

(From the street, beyond the side gate of the cemetery, I could now hear the sounds of the tires of cars going down Jackson Street, a grim silence prevailed in-between, I looked helplessly about with eyes of terror, every side of me seemed to have caliches of death. I looked and could even see the drivers in their front seats driving, and disappearing, and then I shook my head and suddenly became more conscious to the task at hand.

The contents of her bag, seemed to wiggle as if something was alive in it, a rounded shape something, then came sounds of rattling teeth, clanking teeth.

"Let's do what we came for," she said (a flame burned in her eyes) knees bending, a groan from within her chest, her inner spirit, noisily making her head twitch, like a puppet, came out of her mouth, words jagged I didn't understand.

"She must be in a trance," I said out loud, as if talking to myself or someone who wasn't there, for surely she heard (as massive bolt of chills, ran up and down my arms, legs, and spine.)

For a moment I thought she was carrying a bomb, I stood in silence where not knowing what to do, or say, then suddenly, I heard a whisper come from the bag, as she started digging next to a gravestone, on her knees and elbows, with a pocket shovel, one normally used for a garden.

"Is this really necessary?" I asked her.

"Just wait a while and you shall see, and judge for you..." she groaned, and mumbled, as her face grew harder, as she stared longer at the moving bag.

I took a step forward, towards her; I was a few steps back. The instant I did, she motioned in gesture, not to step to close to the bag, she moved it impulsively towards her knee, holding out her hand to stop me, should I venture beyond a threshold she had created in her head, I'm sure I would have been dead, her face now as cold as ice, likened to the palm of death, saying:

"Don't come closer for inside this bag is love and death!"

We had met the night before, at a nightclub in downtown, St. Paul, Minnesota, from there we strolled drunk, uphill to Summit Avenue-or at least I was halfway drunk, feeling the walk would do me well, if not wake me up-walking though old mansions, folks unbelievably would forget to lock their doors, and she knew this, and in the last house we walked through, a woman came, appeared out of a room, beautiful as a painting, she came out of a side space asked what we were doing in her home, Isabella said calmly,

"We're lost, and just happened to walk in...not sure why, but the door was opened" (it was, after she opened it, but she didn't add this) and she just looked amazed at us, as we readied ourselves to turn about and leave-but before we did, the other woman whispered something like this to Isabella de La Ree,

"Come back you will be my guest, but without him..."and I thought in my mind, perhaps she was a lesbian, and left well enough alone, for she was not speaking to me, and I said, interrogatively, to Isabella, after a moments time, after they stood looking, gazing into each other's eyes (both strange as the day is long, both seemingly with well-lit eyes, as if there were passageways I never knew of in each of them, I let my sigh within my chest escape as if a door was just opened,

"What did she say?" I asked.

She didn't even look at me, but courtly replied to the strange lady of the house, "The night air is chilled, I shall return." (But when was in her eyes now.)

"Good," replied the other women, "I shall see to your comfort upon your return."

I was still standing there with eyes of pretest, yet said nothing, for Isabella and I had-if you remember-just met. And that was that, and now this.

At this point, she was turning into to waking nightmare for me, and all she really was, was a pretty and shapely...girl (her face was strong, very strong indeed, with a soft straight bridge for a lightly thin nose, and small nostrils. An arrogant domed forehead, with long black, almost straight hair, thick around the temples, with thick eyebrows and dark eyes, and sharp looking white teeth, now they even seemed to protrude, I think I was imagining them for I could not remember them being this way the night before, but one must remember, I was semi drunk, and sobering up: her lips were thick, with a remarkable dull, deathly red, and a spirit inside of her with vitality beyond a mans. She had a pliable straight, thin chin that came to a peak and dull flat looking cheeks that once were firm and softer, all in a days notice. All in all, she seemed a tinged changed from a day before, one that was of a rosiness flesh, was now one of a dim paleness.

When I had met her at the nightclub (folks dancing about) we, she and I, so I felt, wanted to have company, and not be alone (as simple as that), and so we drank and talked, and I spoke of my adventures in San Francisco in 1968 and '69, and she was interested among one, how I had met a trying, and huge ghost, thinking she'd find it entertaining, and be in disbelief, but it was to the contrary, she wanted to know more about I escape. This was surely a strange happening, I had kept to my soul, so I could sleep well and dream well-and go on with life, but with a courteous bow of her face, she showed no doubt, nor fear, but said, "You are lucky to have said what you said when you said it," which was "In the name of the Lord, whomever you be, be gone from me, and Lord be my protection."

The Grip Spirit

(My description of the ghoul was even more fascinating for her, and she would not part with out knowing its dimensions, character. I explained in as descriptive detail as I could remember. It was to me a grim spirit, who perhaps did not know much about weapons per se, for I lived in a dojo and held it a bay with a fighting stick, it was past midnight, it woke me up this one evening-although it was not a quite spirit at all anyhow-made the dojo tremble, its food steps made the wooden floor sink a centimeter or two as it paced back and forth, and then become visible. It was a foul smelling foe, a creature that came from who knows where, more on the Giant Finn of Ireland, order, or perhaps the Grendel order, of the Scandinavian lands of the 5th Century or so. A pondering evil I lived with for three months in the dojo, an ere fiend, with flame coming from its eyes. And I could tell it had a sudden grip, for when it tossed the chairs about and around the dojo, it smashed them hard. It was huge, perhaps 400-pounds, and eight feet tall, a monster who could have devoured me, now that I look back, and there I slept where no other black belts would dare sleep, for they told me the place was haunted. I did not seek to trap him, I explained to him, we needed to put up with each other for a time being, and that was that, adding, I leave him alone if he left me alone.)

And the noisiness in the karate dojo, where I lived in San Francisco, went silent, in the clap of an eye, in the middle of the night, and the beast that appeared, that shook the building and chairs, and window sills, had gone, disappeared.

And now here we were, I stimulating and bracing for some kind of a thrill,
silently and quietly next to twilight waiting for a bag to be opened, as she dug deep into the earth, I guessed to seal the fate of what was in that bag.

I told myself, now leaning against a gravestone, making a graceful sigh, 'I shall pray to make it out of here alive,' knowing somehow I'd regret, having come with her this evening if I did not, absolutely, for my part I knew not why I remained, for all it seemed to me to be, was someone observing the insane. I knew in a heartbeat, there would be no more tomorrow's with her and I, and perhaps for the better.

At this point I had wished I had finished supper, which I had not-for I was getting hungry even with such bleak happenings around me, and had rushed to meet her for this journey, this discreet and morbid journey, which humanity would have forbid, had they known it was as it would be.

For the first time, I had now noticed her nails were long, and those of her thumb, on the right hand, was pointed, thick as a knife: this somehow brought a horrid feeling of nausea, it came over me like hard bark on a tree. There silent for a moment I stood staring again, at the bag, seeing in the black cloth that now covered its contents, with the moon's light shinning on it, I could see some kind of expression, indented expression, as if a face to be, then I knelt to her level and said,

"I am getting quite tired. I must leave, I live but a few blocks from here, perhaps tomorrow we can meet, I shall let you finish alone whatever it is you must do." (I lied of course; I never wanted to see her again, to be quite frank.)

And with a courteous bow, more of a nod of my head I stood back up to leave (being in a deep sea of wonder, yet in a high fear of the unknown, and not wanting to face or endure the strange things that were about to creep forward out of this night), I did pray, "God keep me safe," if not only for my loved ones dear to me!

I did not leave though, my mind had went absent for a while, and I forgot what I had said, and my intentions to leave, somehow evaporated in my head. Perhaps a spell she place upon me, this beautiful and costliest witch.

My body shuddered from her witch and devilish scorn she seemed to born upon her face and limbs, for the dead in this cemetery- if anything I felt I should salute her for her bravery, and hearty way she was handling this mysterious night-so tranquilly.

"What are you doing," I asked inquisitively, and she whispered in a most horrid voice (with a vibrating haunting echo) as if it was not her voice:

"Digging a tomb!" the voice replied.

"For what or whom?" I asked, holding my breath.

And she pointed to the sack... and she then opened it, inside was a living head, and she said to me, in a most bewildering intonation,

"I can't kill it!" And she rolled it out, and into the dirt tomb, the newly dug grave, and then stood up; strolled about it, as if mad (it was that lady I had seen from the house yesterday, I told my mind's eye).

I knew I had said all I could say about leaving, so I just looked. Isabella now looked up at me, said,

"You may go anywhere you wish now," but my mind was locked into this moment, adding, "All things are as they are, even if you wish to understand them, and you cannot. And there is reason for all things to be as they are."

"I am sure of this," I replied, "our ways are different to say the least."

"Not too different, from what you have told me," she responded, as she paced and kept out of the way of the head, observing it.

Then Sara cried, it was evident the head wanted to speak, but only said "Nay," as if it did not want to be buried alive, for Isabella kicked sand it her mouth, saying,

"Foul head, of the demons, loathing nightmare, voluptuous bloodstained mouth, lay where yea be, and be silent, for none will pardon thee, fall into the hole, my friend, my death-love."

And the head looked up at me, as if it wanted to plead. Then cried Isabella to me,

"Come now, my friend, let her rest in peace, I can do no more, this is all
death-love can offer a demonic whore, however visible she may be, she is captured inside of a dead beauty, preserved by habitable bleeding, and receiving; I can't kill it, she belongs to the un-dead, and she will not leave the body, so I severed the head, she has immortality, but I can keep her head from her body, so she can no longer multiply-so now she must remain in the grave or go back to her evil world."


"Death-Love, In Oakland Cemetery" ((A Story Of Horror)(Second Revision)(Part One Of Two))

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Saturday, October 8, 2011

Advent of Xenon Lighting

!±8± Advent of Xenon Lighting

Currently, xenon lamps are replacing halogen lamps in the headlights of automobiles. These lamps are more preferred in headlights because these lamps result to lower light reflection thus reducing the glare of oncoming cars. This is so because transition from light to darkness of Xenon light is more defined than Halogen light.

The arc created between two electrodes of tungsten makes the xenon bulb lights up. The xenon bulb contains noble gases, including xenon gas, and does not have any filaments like the incandescent bulbs. Xenon light has an electronic starter and a ballast to start and maintain the arc that will light up the lamp.

Xenon bulbs are used widely for lighting large areas such as gyms and courts, warehouses and parking lots, and cinemas. Xenon bulbs are more preferred than incandescent bulbs in that it has a brightness that is close to that of daylight. Although more expensive than other types of lamp, investing in a xenon bulb is worth it and can even save you a lot of money in the long run since it will last you a lifetime. You do not have to change your xenon bulb like you do your incandescent or fluorescent bulbs.

There are two different types of xenon lamps, namely the xenon compact arc lamps and the mercury-xenon lamps. Both lamps however function on the basic concept of xenon lighting which utilizes the arc that is created between the two electrodes in the bulb. With xenon short arc lamps, the arc is formed with the electrodes only a few millimeters apart. Further, these lamps contain several atmospheres of xenon gas. Reaching 80% of final output can be done in less than ten minutes for this type of xenon lamp. Xenon compact arc lamps are designed for direct current operation and are done for better stability and longer life. Xenon lamps come in different wattage and can be operated in the vertical or horizontal position. A mercury-xenon lamp is a lamp that contains both small amounts of xenon and mercury. Xenon is used to start and maintain the arc, which creates the light, until mercury has vaporized.

Xenon lighting or better known as HID (High Intensity Discharge) lighting is a very popular with car enthusiasts as they install this type of light into their cars. Although, xenon lighting is more expensive than other forms of lighting, the quality of light being given by the lamp is very appropriate for night driving. As part of a style statement, xenon lighting does not only come in its natural white color but also comes in a variety of colors that can match the car's theme. Xenon lighting comes in golden light, sun light color, different shades of blue and purple.


Advent of Xenon Lighting

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Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Floor lamps for home and office

!±8± Floor lamps for home and office

Floor lamps are the latest idea in the project with great new styles. Any
Lighting solution is needed to improve your standard of living inside or outside, choose fashion
Lamps can illuminate any room with a touch of charm. Wrought iron table lamps
Floor lamps and lights are among the most popular.

Halogen torchiere floor lamps, free-standing lamps with open, shallow bowl, top
provide indirect "up-lighting," are becoming increasingly popular because their
Introduction to the U.S. in 1983. These bulbs use halogen lamps, tubular
to get much hotter than standard bulbs. Since the tips are open,
inflammable objects such as curtains easily through direct contact with the lighting
Halogen bulb.

Torchiere floor lamps, halogen lamps more common, which burn at temperatures
more than 1,200 degrees, hot enough to fry an egg in 30 seconds! This is well above
the temperature of combustion for wood and paperTissues, ranging from
350-500 ° C. The Consumer Products Safety Commission has attributed to
At least 31 dead, 114 injured and at least 350 fires in $ 2,000,000 in
Damage to these lamps.

But the Energy Star torchiere floor lamps that use compact fluorescent lamps
much cooler, they last 5 times longer and consume 80% less energy to burn. For example, a
Energy Star torchiere of 56-watt fluorescent tube, which received the same amount used
ofAs light as a 300-watt halogen lamp. Energy Star torchiere or have the full range 3-way
Obscuration are available in a variety of styles and are warranted for two years.

Covered for some fun and funky, with a yellow light bulb painted in silicon. This is a
pear expensive, but it is definitely a conversation starter. If you're happy with brilliant colors
Shades of colored glass to read style stained glass lamps. Stained glass,
Modern table lamps, table lamps, traditional lamps, micaCountry amplifiers.


Floor lamps for home and office

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Thursday, July 28, 2011

Kenroy Home 20953ORB Sweep Floor Lamp, Oil Rubbed Bronze

!±8±Kenroy Home 20953ORB Sweep Floor Lamp, Oil Rubbed Bronze

Brand : Kenroy Home
Rate :
Price : $153.00
Post Date : Jul 28, 2011 20:15:37
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Understated design with a dynamic reach, Sweep is available as a floor, wall, or table lamp. This streamlined, extended, contemporary swing-arm is a design element that makes for ideal reading and task light.

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