Just the other day my husband and I had to seriously ponder whether to get a new front door. Our front door is 102 years old this year and we despair of our little one's fingers being caught between the heavy metal door. It is a beautiful door but the insulation is non-existent and it lets a lot of air through in the winter months. Of course to replace it we would need the permission of our local town planning administration---which would likely not give it. The solution: new glass to be fitted in the old door and some modern sealant. We now accept our door troubles as the price of retaining beauty. It has led me to this post which is entirely about admiring the work of old.
The skill in this type of old world iron mongering and wood crafting is astonishing.
I feel like there is no artistry in design and architecture now. No sinuous, curvy, winding lines. No elaborate reimagining of animal, human and mythical forms. I feel like the zest for clean lines and refined and stingy proportions has removed all the beauty from home design. Of course, everyone is on the make to reduce costs and the result: I say formless plastic mostly. You?
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