Shawn: “It’s quiet and peaceful in this emotional nirvana blue…” warbles the chanteuse from Hooverphonic as we enter the confines of this cerulean sanctum. There’s an almost narcotic affect to it, the whole blue-on-blue scheme presumably designed to achieve a zen lull for the occupant. Is our spread-eagled tease actually asleep on that immense doily of a bedspread? Methinks. It would so easy to believe that the kitsch balloon rendering focal point is a highly symbolic epitome of childhood whimsy still alive and well in an uncaring world, but no, I don’t buy it. If slasher movies have taught me anything, then it’s that an item like this is either the motive for a murder spree or the means of identifying the killer. As the room’s linchpin it’s just too forced, too suggestive of some dread that can only be held at bay by the cyan ambiance. There’s an unspoken Marnie-like trauma from childhood lurking here. I sense an ill-fated birthday party staged on a pristine suburban lawn, the unendurable mocking laughter of children in white, a wound-too-tight mother’s castigation, and definitely ponies. But we must never, ever speak about the ponies…
Steve: I understand what happens with bedside tables. They’re small. They sort of give up. And when they do, untold number of bedside-table-suitable items from all the best yard sales start to nestle around the base of them, awaiting a turn on the elevated surface. Some of them will make it, but many, many will not.
File Under:Bedroom Terrors | For the hell of it
33 Responses to 'Questions in a World of Blue'
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David K. publishes Nightcharm, the only gay porn site ever to be featured on Oprah and regularly compared to Martha Stewart Living.
John Calendo is the Executive Editor of Nightcharm, and a life-long Pop Critic @ Large. His work has appeared in Playboy, Blueboy and boy oh boy everything in between.
Shawn hails from New York and is a member of its young underclass, a little bit Ann Darrow, a little bit Travis Bickle.
Heather Corinna is the undisputed diva of online erotica for chicks. She publishes Scarleteen.com and is a sex guru to thousands of teenagers.
Richard writes the infamous queer blog Sturtle.com . His turn-ons include wainscoting, ZZ Top, and sharp-dressed men. Turn-offs: sectionals, pleated trousers, and pina coladas.
Steve is a lost sort of man who zones out, easily, into the foreheads of strangers. He keeps a blog of his drawings here.
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Shawn: fucking brilliant!
I see this almost hazy room, and it’s true; it’s not serenity that comes to mind but the mocking of serenity. The set seems right out of a film by the Italian master of the macabre, Dario Argento. I want to believe it is a hotel room (somehow that thought comforts me, rather than imagine anyone would live like that on purpose), but then Steve brings up a good point; what hotel has back-up bedside lamps? This welcoming port has hidden teeth.
See? This is what happens when you agree to watch over a hotel high in the mountains during the bad blizzard seasons, when you’re cut off from everybody and you start hallucinating about hallways with blood, sodomistic mascots, and twin dead girls….you start decorating like THIS.
Red rum…red rum…red rum…
Blue room…blue room….blue room….
Hmmmm…is that chenille???
The blue carpet and painting are hideous!! But that ass looks pretty good!! Could he be at his grandmother’s house? I thought so at first but do the elderly like balloon paintings that much?
And is that note book on the bed beside him? Perhaps he poses like this for some sort of inspiration for his work. Like interior decorating or planning his next murder.
Tex, I bet you’d hit it and I’m with you on this one!!!
The only silver lining I can come up with is…..at least it’s not one of the Blue Man Group exposing his cheeks for all the Web to see. That would be way too much color coordination; the more intense, saturated blue would spoil the scheme.
In spit of the extra lamp- I think hotel room through a Viagra haze.
SPITE, Darn it!
OK, references to Hooverphonic, Hitchcock, Argento and Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me all in this one thread? If only every walk of life could be this cool.
I almost wonder if the blue walls are actually just a reflection of the blue carpet. Still the entire scene is just a tad surreal.
Speaking of blue….get a load of that scrotum. Blue Balls, perhaps?
The moulding on the wall says “Paris” while the cheap bedside lamps and family sized Kleenex box say “Target”.
I think the paint inside the moulding is a very cheap white - which is heightened by the pale blue light emitted from the ceiling fixture. I bet it is a single bare bulb - given the spare furnishings we find here.
The symmetry of the composition is pretty swell though - the eye is directed from the converging lines of the legs - up to his butt-cleavage which leads the eye to the “colonial” headboard/pediment which points right up to that creepy balloon painting. Why do balloons scare me?
Stevie Nicks called, she wants the giant, fringed scarf he’s using as a bedspread back now please.
That looks like a blurry windowsill and green curtain in the foreground — is he being photographed through a window?
the balloons are an odd choice considering the hot bubble on the bed…
How could we have all been so blind???????
The “balloons” are condoms!
It’s a European safe sex poster!
(Probably Eastern Europe!)
And then there is the fauxpaus of the missing fringe. If one plans to showcase their dig with such azure fortitude, one one think about rotating the coverlet to show off the edge with pristine fringe. We’re aghast!
I can only wonder if that headboard is made of molded plastic
There’s something very… institutional about this room. Perhaps it’s the industrial style light switches, perhaps it’s the side tables that I suspect are attached to the wall. Yet it has the feeling of forced personalization, as though the occupant was permitted to pick a piece of poster art from a closet on the third floor to give his “guest room” a bit of color, and has been allowed to postpone a final decision on which table lamp he will keep for at least two years.
My bet: this is St. Elizabeth’s Hospital in Washington, DC. Pictured is John Hinckley, Jr. This photograph is a secret message to Jodie Foster to sneak in tonight with a strap-on and let him have it while he ecstatically recites dialogue from “Nell.”
Taye n na winn, indeed!
The above must have been taken from the monolith’s POV.
There aren’t many times in life when we say to ourselves, “now THIS was meant to be,” but when this guy walked into the room and his t-shirt matched the color of the carpeting EXACTLY, he knew he was home. The electrical fixtures suggest Europe and as for the lamp on the floor, what’s wrong with the other beside table? Not sure if the whole room is blue or it gets indirect rays from some strange skylight. And anyone else notice the whole bed seems to tilt to the right?
Maybe this is a still from an unreleased Hitchcock movie.
Ooh!
Blue Hotel, on a lonely highway,
Blue Hotel, life don’t work out my way.
Blue Hotel, on a lonely highway,
Blue Hotel, life don’t work out my way.
I wait alone each lonely night.
Blue Hotel…
Blue Hotel…
The whole thing just makes me very, very sad…
I’m not so sure he should be chided for this blue on blue motif as an interior design decision.
Most likely he is just guilty of using the day light filter in doors, which is my guess on how this most-likely-white room came to be rendered as a 1901-1904 f(vaguely french?) fantasy world?
Though if he selected the antiquated room furnishings to hyper accentuate some timely point…then I’ll give him an 8 on the concept and a 2.5 on the execution!
Headless Mangina #348.
Straights say “pussy has no face”, but this is ridiculous.
Lucien X is on to something… this definitely seems to be taken from “outside” the room. The blurry beige and green framing the bottom and right sides of the picture suggest that the camera is looking in from somewhere else.
The overall blue of the room creates a very sedate and melancholy mood. Definitely not arousing. The balloons (condoms?) are a very surreal-bordering-on-psychotic touch. And the fringed bedspread with the doily pattern is just agony.
I don’t blame this guy for not showing his face.
I’m with Jordan - I think a skylight is responsible for the lighting effects in this shot. I’m also rather hypnotized by the implied landing strip of those legs. But I find myself inextricably drawn, again and again, back to that balloon picture: the sole piece of whimsy in this barren, functional landscape. Indescribably melancholy.
I’m also feeling pretty bad for grandma’s lovely chenille bedspread and the rigors it faces as this headless Lothario’s evening wears on.
But how did he ever get past the velvet ropes and fend off the guards long enough to get an ass shot in Marie Antoinette’s bed at Versailles?
I love the Fire Walk With Me soundtrack and the song referenced. But I skipped over the comments and am just assessing this as an image with that title. And I can almost see this as an image from the film or the television show. This might be a shot of Johnny, Audrey Horne’s retarded brother? Or perhaps it is Laura’s orchid-obsessed therapist, reading her diary and fucking the bedspread?
Is he trying to tell us he’s a bottom?
I am utterly perplexed.
This room is full of confusing contradictions that make it impossible to pin down a likely location or setting.
The room definitely has a European vibe about it, but that headboard is clearly trying to be American Colonial (note: definitely “Colonial” or “Early American” as opposed to the more proper Georgian). The moldings on the wall really do have a Parisian vibe to them, and the electrical outlets and switched don’t look American (though it’s hard to tell at this resolution). Yet the balloon painting, the lamps, clock and assorted crap on the nightstand are very American 1990’s, “crap from Target for my first Apartment.”
The room is clearly institutional–one would guess a mid-level hotel room that’s trying way to hard to look more upscale than it is. Note the indestructible carpeting, the synthetic bed cover with the cheap fringe that’s been caught a few too many times by the maid’s vacuum, and the arbitrariness of the furnishings. I suspect, too, that the eerie lighting is caused by a large fluorescent overhead fixture–hardly what one would expect in more domestic digs. Yet, the bedside lamps are not typically institutional–one would expect either traditional ceramic table lamps with Coolie shades, or brass sing-arms bolted to the wall. And that painting again. It might fit into another sort of institutional setting, like a pediatrician’s office, but it in no way fits with this room.
So is this room American or European? A private residence or an institutional space?
Today is the last day that I’m using words
They’ve gone out, lost their meaning
Don’t function anymore
Okay Rick….enough! Stop playing “Bedtime Story” and go cut the fuckin’ grass NOW!!
Is it just me? Or is it TOTALLY the habitat on the movie “2001: A Space Oddessy?” David Bowman got his cooter up out of boredom there in his habitat….
oh luriddigs. You do for interiors what old gypsies did for tea leaves. But how? How? Is it possible to gain this skill without spending 6 years in a monastic retreat, free from all worldly distractions and Ikea?
If i send you a picture of my house, can you give me my lottery numbers?