Wednesday (that feels like Tuesday, in a week where I could really use an extra day to begin with) greetings, my fine collector friends! Kids are back to school, we are back to work and things are positively thrumming in NYC. Industriousness aside, there are about a million openings, benefits and confabs I want to, or simply must, attend. Many of them seem to be happening at precisely the same time, in the most geographically disparate locales possible on the small isle of Manhattan.

Even Brooklyn has made it on to my agenda; there's a Very Important Party this evening for a certain jeune fille's birthday. Seeing as she came all the way from Lyon for cupcakes in Williamsburg, I'm going to do my very best to get myself to the festivities. (Although obliging myself to a belated celebration in Lyon is not entirely lacking in appeal.)

Today's duo of photography editions, Untitled (Max) and Untitled (Arika), by Fall '05 Hot Shot Dorthe Alstrup, is so very perfect for this festive week. I was positively giddy (seriously, I think I squealed) when Dorthe agreed to do an edition with Max. That particular photo was used as a placeholder while we were putting together the prototype of the site, so it's a long-standing favorite at JBP HQ. Paired with the equally lovely Arika, the narrative is expanded while providing another perspective on Dorthe's truly inspired staging.

When I say to you that I find these photos utterly captivating, I mean it.* They provoke emotional responses in me so strong that I can only describe them in bodily terms which border on the corny: a sort of elation that puts me somewhere above ground like the balloons, a joyfulness that makes my heart feel full, a nostalgia that makes the scents, sounds and textures of childhood nearly tangible. I like being reminded that physical euphemisms for emotional responses are grounded in actual experience, and these photos do exactly that. Results of a straw poll, conducted largely over IM, indicate that I am not alone in my enthusiasm for the photos. To wit, here's a conversation I had this very morning with my new favorite person, let's call him Deardorff, who happens to be a photographer himself:

Deardorff: I love when photographer fills space with objects.
Jen: I think they're really beautiful and they remind me of a lot of things.
Deardorff: They are
Jen: The balloons look like champagne to me, and you know how I love champagne.
Deardorff: They remind me of overwhelming childhood memories. Like looking at your past but with filters.
Jen: Yes, like being a kid at grownup parties, even though balloons are kid partyish. i was thinking about falling asleep in someone's guest room on top of a pile of coats.
Deardorff: fur coats, mmmmmmmm

I was certain that the images would appeal to another friend of mine, let's call her Rococo. I knew she'd be entranced by the luxurious tableau and the old world feel, but I had no idea just how entranced! Her response:

Jen: Tell me what you like about them.
Ms. Rococo: The juxtaposition of the celebration and the luxe, calme et volupté... It is like decadence without the darkness, it is sunny and light. Baudelaire minus his shadow.
Jen: Perfection!
Ms. Rococo: You know that poem by Baudelaire? Invitation to the Voyage?

I wasn't familiar with the poem, but it turns out that Ms. Rococo was spot on:
Gleaming furniture,
Polished by the years,
Will ornament our bedroom;
The rarest flowers
Mingling their fragrance
With the faint scent of amber,
The ornate ceilings,
The limpid mirrors,
The oriental splendor,
All would whisper there
Secretly to the soul
In its soft, native language.

There all is order and beauty,
Luxury, peace, and pleasure.

And with that bit of lyricism, I'll bring today's newsletter to a close. I'm not quite done for the week yet, however. I've got some anniversary related surprises up my sleeve, so you'll be hearing from me again very soon. Be on the lookout!

*Sometimes I have a hard time coming up with the appropriate superlatives to use when talking about our editions. I try my best not to be repetitive, and I never want to seem insincere. (Insincerity is not my bag, for better or for worse, I'm a heart on my sleeve kind of girl.)