Contrast

I have this terra cotta tile on my hearth and my kitchen counter. It is warm, serviceable, and attractive. When I first moved into this apartment, there were nine tiles in the hearth that were either broken or missing. What I wanted to do was to remove the broken tiles and then replace the missing ones with something like the tile on the right. It is a related palate, and the chambered nautilus motif would go well with other natural items that I've used to decorate my apartment, including a chambered nautilus shell that lives on a bookcase upstairs. The contrast between the basic plainness of the terra cotta and the more sophisticated design of the other tile pleased me. The contrast between the desert feel of one and the ocean feel of the other also charmed me. The fact that tiles were missing in a haphazard pattern seemed to me to be a lovely design element -- a contrasting tile placed at random, very organic. Very yang.

It also occurred to me to look for nine different tiles of similar color and theme, or even nine tiles in a variety of colors and patterns. But, forgetting that it is easier to get forgiveness than permission, I mentioned it to my landlord. Three days later I came home from work to find the missing tiles had been replaced by plain terra cotta, and two extra tiles had been left in case I needed them. Pity.

I really like the contrast between nature and art, between wild and designed, between pure and adorned. I like effects that are unexpected and unique.

I thought about all of this because I was looking through a catalog of yard ornaments and saw an item that I would love to have, and that would not ordinarily be thought to fit into my yard at all. This is my front yard. Totally wild. Not a single thing that has been planted or grown on purpose. There are wild flowers blooming most of the spring and summer, starting with dandelions and going on to sweet rocket and Queen Anne's lace. At the moment it's dandelions, buttercups, and the beginnings of sweet rocket.

And this is what I would love to find a place for. What do you suppose I would have to do to make this look like it belonged here? Perhaps if I could make the place look like a ruin that the woods were retaking. Take a chip or two out of the lawn ornament, hide part of it behind a large fern. Somehow get the water to flow in a randomized pattern? Whatever, I think it would be great fun. And, isn't it OK for fun and beauty to go together?

Click on pictures to enlarge.