On some level, any photograph of an artwork is going to be derivative. By definition, really. But that doesn’t make it any less capable of being original, or of being a work of art in its own right. We recognize collage, montage, and the editorial enterprise as being art forms.

This is a marvelous time in D.C. Everything is blooming. The warm, moist air is drenched with scents: clover, honeysuckle, roses, and now my favorite of them all—southern magnolia.

When I moved here from New England, I was ambushed by the magnolias, which are nothing like their colorful but comparatively prudish northern cousins. Magnolias here in the south are a different breed. Their leaves are broad and shiny. The blossoms are creamy white, succulently smooth and soft, and huge. They open and emit an aroma of powerful sensuality: a unique blend of lemon, vanilla, and musk that seems to flow directly to the very most primitive parts of your brain.

An acquaintance once told me that, when she was a child, her mother cut and put a magnolia blossom in a bowl by her bedside. Her dreams were so vivid and disturbing that night, so saturated with the fragrance of magnolia, that she has been unable to abide the flowers ever since.

I can believe that there might be madness brought on by magnolias.

Some of the simplest and most delightful design work is being done in the restaurant business: everything from tableware to the food presentation itself. A substantial portion of the pleasure in eating out is enjoying the aesthetics of the environment in a well-though-out restaurant. I took this photograph while dining with Deb at Sette Bello in Arlington. (The food was good too.)

Bonus picture:

This one is a souvenir from my belated-but-lovely Valentine’s dinner at Kinkead’s with Bob. I wasn’t happy with it when I first looked at it, but upon revisiting it, and with a little tweaking, I rather like the shallow DoF and old-timey feeling. So here it is.