Brightest Young Things

they say true happiness is the absence of desire.well, pardon my french (and italian) but: f* true happiness.

i desire.

strongly.

undeniably the fornasetti EVERYTHING: plates, chairs, curtains EVERYTHING.EVeRYTHING THERE IS AND ISN'T.

so in the name of good taste and shameless consumerism

(shameless bcse it it based on quality)

read this:

*enter the world of fornasetti *'the fornasetti world'
by ettore sottsass

'I believe that one day, when he was young, fornasetti must have had a truly startling vision.

I don't know if it was during
the day or by night, but suddenly he must have seen the whole world explode into the air,

the whole world and all of
history and all the accumulation of its figures,

memories and all the stones, the bodies, the trees, the houses and the
monuments.

everything flew into the air

and finished up in an infinite, opaque cloud full of rubbish that rose like a nuclear mushroom and then,

slowly,

in chilling silince, began to descent, falling havily -

perhaps on fornasetti's head, or perhaps on his table or on his paintbrush or perhaps even simply on the floor of his room. it must have been a bit like in an michelangelo antonioni film

for fornasetti this must have been quite a shock (at least I imagine things went this way).

being young and therefore both inclined and prepared to blow the world up in the air, an explosion like the one he experienced, in my opinion, provoked in him a certain anxious state, at least to begin with.

that would happen to anyone ...

... while walking he gathered fragments from the earth as one might gather mushrooms in a wood, but he collected
allusions, flashes of images, stray memories, sentences from unknown works, a variety of tatters and with all he
gathered he would remake the world. he would remake the entire world. perhaps he would simply suggest it.

he would suggest a beautiful new world that perhaps did not correspond to anything. perhaps it was not even necessary that all those fragments, all those allusions, all those images, all those stray memories should add up to something ...

... it is as if fornasetti repainted all the existing world. as if - nostalgic metaphor for a supposed infinite sky in the
cosmos - he painted everything he found along the way with a phosphorescent sky-blue colour because 'everything' seems so beautiful, so smooth, so magic and misterious ...'