Anthropologie's Art

Today's adventures took me to University Village, an upscale outdoor shopping venue in Seattle. One of my go-to stops on any visit to U Village is at Anthropolgie, though I am quite unlikely to buy something there.

I go to Anthropologie to look at their art installations. 

The creative minds at Anthropologie have an incredible gift for taking ordinary, familiar objects and weaving them into astounding art pieces that highlight their funky fashion and define the fun aesthetic of their brand. 

So while my daughters are behaving like normal shoppers, checking out the gemstone coasters and monogram mugs, you'll find me lurking around these oversize works of art, examining the materials and the DIY magic to figure out just how they were made.

I also like to rate them, and chose a winner. 

^ This was the first installation to catch my eye today. At a distance, and even closer up, it seemed to be composed of dip-dyed plastic straws and silk leis that had been cut open and hung from one end. 

^ Upon closer inspection, I realized that I was looking at not straws exactly, but some sort of solid plastic cylindrical shape with a small hole at either end. Nothing I could place as an object from everyday life, which was a disappointment, but simple and pleasing. 

The white shapes began to look like small clam shells to me, and it wasn't till I reached out and carefully touched one that I could identify it as paper. I saw no signs of folding or gluing them, and suspect they were the work of a 3D printer. 

^ And the darker, more floral-looking shapes at the end of the strings seemed to be cut from paperboard egg cartons. You know, bumpy and a bit heavier than regular paper or standard cardboard, painted dark brown.

I found myself liking the plastic bits and the paper bits but not the plastic and paper bits together. The colors fought each other, for my taste; the more brilliant shade of yellow plastic was too bold for the more subtle clam shells and egg cups. 

Final grade: C

^ In the front window, I found a collection of tightly packed cotton strings hung from the top of the window.  Attached to the strings with a small segment of copper foil were a series of ginkgo leaves. Fake ginkgo leaves, as I soon deduced, ranging in color from brilliant yellow to burnt orange to a deep brick red. Probably also born from a 3D printer.

^The ginkgo leaves formed three large circles on the string lattice - you can see most of one circle in this photo - and the colors faded from yellow to red in a most pleasing ombre vibe. The full effect gave me a sense of quivering anticipation, as if a thousand brilliant butterflies were poised for takeoff. 

My biggest frustration was trying to get a good look at the full effect. When I went outside and looked into the window, the glare of sunshine against the glass made viewing impossible. So I went back in and literally squeezed myself between the inside of the glass and the row of mannequins to try to get myself into a position where I could crane my neck up to take it all in.

Yeah. That was a little awkward.

Final grade: B+

^ Now let's talk about this curlicue of cuteness on the ceiling. When I spied it across the store, I was sure that the suspended shapes were sections of natural bamboo, like the pieces used to make bamboo wind chimes. The bit of white at the top, I surmised, was paint. 

^ But as I moved across the room and stood underneath, I quickly realized I had it all wrong.

The shapes were sections of PVC pipe. Not bamboo.

The white bits at the top, which I guessed were painted, were actually the original state of the pipe.

The lower section had somehow been texturized - honestly, it looked as if someone had glued on bits of straw - and then painted in a natural-looking shade of mid-brown. I liked the idea of texturizing the pipe to present it as a more natural, organic material, but the straw was a bit too big and the finished effect a bit too sloppy for my taste.

And each little section of pipe had been suspended from the ceiling by a length of transparent fishing line, tied to an eye hook in the ceiling.

Deliciously clever and pleasingly organic, I love the way the line of pipes swirls around the ceiling, then spirals into a chandelier effect with longer sections in the center. As I gazed up in wonder at this marvel, my deepest desire was to throw open the huge double doors and let the Seattle summer breezes blow into the room and set the whole thing to swaying in the wind.

Final score: A-

Today's winner!

* * * * *

Thanks, Antropologie, for entertaining me once again for your creative and inspiring decor. I'll be back soon to see what you dreamed up for an encore. 

And who knows. Next time, I might even buy something.