I have strong opinions about Frank Lloyd Wright architecture. I don't care for it. I don't like stone in concrete, or clerestory windows, redwood, low ceilings, or even triangles. I do like floor to ceiling windows, recessed lighting, huge fireplaces, texture, and a great view, so on the other hand, I do like Frank Lloyd Wright architecture.
Today, Tom and I drove to Scottsdale to see Wright's home, which is part of a compound that includes an architectural school, a cafeteria, a sculpture garden and even a cabaret. Our tour guide was a retired interior designer, articulate and knowledgeable. I could have followed her around all day, even if I did have to stand in a burning sun for a good part of it.
Wright and his third wife, Olga, lived without windows, electricity or plumbing for years, but always kept a grand piano and evening wear. I love a couple who likes to dress up. They also kept several British red roadsters to carry guests to the house.
A rattlesnake interrupted our tour and sent us scurrying to another entrance. Several people saw it at once. I said, "Where is it? I don't want to see it," and kept my head down.
Wright furniture is uncomfortable.
Red was his favorite color.
He said, "I had to choose between honest arrogance and hypocritical humility. I chose the former and see no reason to change." He's right. Humility can be such a suck-up.
At the gift store, I bought a tiny folio, Frank Lloyd Wright: America's Master Architect, and T.C. Boyle's The Women, a novel of Frank Lloyd Wright (his romances, not his architecture). I love Boyle's short stories, but have never read his novels. This one had superior reviews. I also bought Tom a swell tie.
Sam and Sarah et.al. met us for cupcakes at Sprinkles. I used to think Magnolia's had the best cupcakes, but that was before I had Sprinkles. We sat on the bench outside their window and watched people with big honking SUVs cram themselves into the parking spaces.
Tomorrow we fly home on Allegiant Airlines. Hope to get there before midnight.