So on Saturday 3rd of April we flew from San Francisco to Durango, Colorado. Perhaps stupidly, I was surprised by the presence of snow on the ground. And the accompanying cold. As the guy in the outdoor clothes shop said "You came to Colorado without bringing something warm??" Yeah. It was cold. We were only using Durango as a springboard for starting the roadtrip as near to Mesa Verde as possible, which the dude at the hire car place seemed really surprised by.
The highlight of Durango was not the people of Walmart but the hotel at which we lodged. The Strater was built in the 1880s and has been redecorated in a loosely Victorian style. Gorgeous handprinted reproduction wallpapers have been used in a typical late nineteenth century combination of frieze, fill and dado. The frieze in our room and many of the public areas of the hotel was a spectacular Aesthetic movement-esque number featuring stylised floral elements and geometric patterns (hello Owen Jones!) tumbling all over each other. The fill was a lovely William Morris style trailing willow leaves - gold leaves on a white background. The dado was sensible wooden panelling painted white. The rooms were furnished with original nineteenth century American walnut beds, dressing tables and side tables; as it turns out, the Strater has the largest collection of Victorian American walnut furniture.
The total effect was interesting. Aestheticism is all about excess - consumption of goods, display of goods, a profusion of eclectic objects and pattern EVERYWHERE. Often, there would be three different patterns upon the wall in the frieze-fill-dado combination, as well as many different textiles on furnishings and window dressings. Unsurprisingly, this style seems too cluttered for modern tastes as there is stuff everywhere, and (allegedly) the eye can't rest. The furniture in the room doesn't appear particularly Aesthetic to me (but I am better with wallpaper than with furniture!), being much simpler in design - maybe even a bit colonial revival? The textiles were similarly muted, although in a Victorian kind of vein. What I liked was how, in combination, the two quite distinct styles of the furniture and the wallpaper gave the broad appearance of historical accuracy, whilst remaining comfortable for modern sensibilities. Is the success of the interior design scheme postmodern comfortableness with the mixing of historical styles or is it just playing on popular conceptions of what Victorian style was about? Either way, it was cool.
From Durango, we drove to Mesa Verde for architecture of a completely different kind. Between around 750 AD and 1300 AD, people called Anasazi by the Navajo and Puebloans by the Spanish inhabited the top of a huge mesa in the southwest corner of Colorado. In the thirteenth century they were building the most amazing houses wedged in the cliffs that were accessed by ladders. However, around 1300, they all just left. Didn't even pack up - just left. The Hopi tribe claim to be descended from the Anasazi, and the ranger who led us around the Spruce Tree House dwelling emphasised the continuing nature of the culture that inhabited the area. He said that the Hopi and Navajo traditions argue that the people left the mesa because, spiritually, it was time to move on; western archaeology thinks maybe there was a catastrophe of some sort.
After Mesa Verde, we drove through Utah into Navajo land (best road sign: "Friendly Indians behind you!") and into the Valley of the Gods, a precursor to Monument Valley. This whole area would make the best geology excursion ever. There are layers of rock, which have eroded at different rates and now form weird shapes (including a chicken!). Valley of the Gods is an apt name. It's as though one is trespassing in an alien landscape, and the huge formations seem uncannily watchful. Going to view the Goosenecks, where the river had gouged out canyons in a looping, gooseneck shape, was a bit of a relief. There was water and there were birds, including a swift that buzzed Jon. Life makes the landscape seem friendlier.
Monument Valley was not quite like in the movies. Impossibly, it was bigger. And better in its lack of John Wayne. There was also quite a high wind whipping dust and red sand into the air, which, as we came in just before sunset, made the most amazing atmospheric effects on the mesas and buttes. It was less weird than Valley of the Gods, maybe because there were people there, and a few buildings. One of the buildings was the View Hotel, which had a room with a view that I doubt will be bettered this trip. I voluntarily got up early to watch the sun climb (not quite from the horizon, I wasn't that motivated!) behind the Mittens. This was definitely worth the sandstorms we encountered getting there and away!
Jon admires the view from our balcony at Monument Valley :)
So on Saturday 3rd of April we flew from San Francisco to Durango, Colorado. Perhaps stupidly, I was surprised by the presence of snow on the ground. And the accompanying cold. As the guy in the outdoor clothes shop said "You came to Colorado without bringing something warm??" Yeah. It was cold. We were only using Durango as a springboard for starting the roadtrip as near to Mesa Verde as possible, which the dude at the hire car place seemed really surprised by.
The highlight of Durango was not the people of Walmart but the hotel at which we lodged. The Strater was built in the 1880s and has been redecorated in a loosely Victorian style. Gorgeous handprinted reproduction wallpapers have been used in a typical late nineteenth century combination of frieze, fill and dado. The frieze in our room and many of the public areas of the hotel was a spectacular Aesthetic movement-esque number featuring stylised floral elements and geometric patterns (hello Owen Jones!) tumbling all over each other. The fill was a lovely William Morris style trailing willow leaves - gold leaves on a white background. The dado was sensible wooden panelling painted white. The rooms were furnished with original nineteenth century American walnut beds, dressing tables and side tables; as it turns out, the Strater has the largest collection of Victorian American walnut furniture.
The total effect was interesting. Aestheticism is all about excess - consumption of goods, display of goods, a profusion of eclectic objects and pattern EVERYWHERE. Often, there would be three different patterns upon the wall in the frieze-fill-dado combination, as well as many different textiles on furnishings and window dressings. Unsurprisingly, this style seems too cluttered for modern tastes as there is stuff everywhere, and (allegedly) the eye can't rest. The furniture in the room doesn't appear particularly Aesthetic to me (but I am better with wallpaper than with furniture!), being much simpler in design - maybe even a bit colonial revival? The textiles were similarly muted, although in a Victorian kind of vein. What I liked was how, in combination, the two quite distinct styles of the furniture and the wallpaper gave the broad appearance of historical accuracy, whilst remaining comfortable for modern sensibilities. Is the success of the interior design scheme postmodern comfortableness with the mixing of historical styles or is it just playing on popular conceptions of what Victorian style was about? Either way, it was cool.
From Durango, we drove to Mesa Verde for architecture of a completely different kind. Between around 750 AD and 1300 AD, people called Anasazi by the Navajo and Puebloans by the Spanish inhabited the top of a huge mesa in the southwest corner of Colorado. In the thirteenth century they were building the most amazing houses wedged in the cliffs that were accessed by ladders. However, around 1300, they all just left. Didn't even pack up - just left. The Hopi tribe claim to be descended from the Anasazi, and the ranger who led us around the Spruce Tree House dwelling emphasised the continuing nature of the culture that inhabited the area. He said that the Hopi and Navajo traditions argue that the people left the mesa because, spiritually, it was time to move on; western archaeology thinks maybe there was a catastrophe of some sort.
After Mesa Verde, we drove through Utah into Navajo land (best road sign: "Friendly Indians behind you!") and into the Valley of the Gods, a precursor to Monument Valley. This whole area would make the best geology excursion ever. There are layers of rock, which have eroded at different rates and now form weird shapes (including a chicken!). Valley of the Gods is an apt name. It's as though one is trespassing in an alien landscape, and the huge formations seem uncannily watchful. Going to view the Goosenecks, where the river had gouged out canyons in a looping, gooseneck shape, was a bit of a relief. There was water and there were birds, including a swift that buzzed Jon. Life makes the landscape seem friendlier.
Monument Valley was not quite like in the movies. Impossibly, it was bigger. And better in its lack of John Wayne. There was also quite a high wind whipping dust and red sand into the air, which, as we came in just before sunset, made the most amazing atmospheric effects on the mesas and buttes. It was less weird than Valley of the Gods, maybe because there were people there, and a few buildings. One of the buildings was the View Hotel, which had a room with a view that I doubt will be bettered this trip. I voluntarily got up early to watch the sun climb (not quite from the horizon, I wasn't that motivated!) behind the Mittens. This was definitely worth the sandstorms we encountered getting there and away!
Jon admires the view from our balcony at Monument Valley :)
Awesome photos! And found more on Flickr!
ReplyDeleteamazing photos!! and i love the wallpaper/interiors discussion :D
ReplyDeleteWhat a contrast, from interiors to exteriors.
ReplyDeleteOooooh, aaaaaaah! (That says it all, really).
ReplyDelete