Design is for living. That maxim shaped a widespread shift in design during the 1940s and 1950s. It was a revolution of form, an exciting visual language that signaled a new age and a fresh start – and two of its prime movers were Charles and Ray Eames. The Eameses were a husband and wife team whose unique synergy led to a whole new look in furniture. Lean and modern. Sleek, sophisticated and simple. Beautifully functional.
Yet Charles and Ray Eames created more than a “look” with their bent plywood chairs or molded fiberglass seating. They had ideas about making a better world, one in which things were designed to fulfill the practical needs of ordinary people and bring greater simplicity and pleasure to our lives.Read Less
The Eameses adventurously pursued new ideas and forms with a sense of “serious fun.” Yet, it was rigorous discipline that allowed them to achieve perfection of form and mastery over materials. As Charles noted about the molded plywood chair, “Yes, it was a flash of inspiration,” he said, “a kind of 30-year flash.” Combining imagination and thought, art and science, Charles and Ray Eames created some of the most influential expressions of 20th century design – furniture that remains stylish, fresh and functional today.
And they didn’t stop with furniture. The Eameses also created a highly innovative “case study” house in response to a magazine contest. They made films, including a seven-screen installation at the 1959 Moscow World’s Fair, presented in a dome designed by Buckminster Fuller. They designed showrooms, invented toys and generally made the world a more interesting place to be.
As the most important exponents of organic design, Charles and Ray Eames demonstrated how good design can improve quality of life and human understanding and knowledge.
Violinist Arthur: Eames writes up another note to slip him (Violin Concerto No. 1 in B-flat major, K. 207). This time he adds his unit number to the bottom. Arthur sees the note and rather than just start playing he goes over to Eames to play.
It was a couple of weeks later that Arthur was able to practice late.
He had been busy doing a few shows in the off season and he had rehersals and by the time he got home, he was so worn out and tired, he just ate and went to bed.
When his schedule tapered off again, Arthur was home once more and he had time to practice, just for himself. He vaguely wondered if his fan was still out there, waiting for him to play for him and as he readied his violin, he looked at the stacks of notes he had gotten from his fan and he missed it. He still wondered who it was and once he was ready, he began to play.
He got about half way through his practice when he heard the knock on his door. He took his time setting his violin back in his case before he walked over to his door and looked down, seeing the notebook paper folded in half. He picked it up and opened it, reading the request.
’Violin Concerto No. 1 in B-flat major, K. 207’
The only thing that was different about this note was that there was an apartment number written at the bottom of it. Arthur smiled, taking the paper, putting it in his pocket and then grabbing his violin and going across the hallway to the apartment written on the note. He held his breath for a moment and then knocked on the door.
He was surprised when it was the handsome English man he had come across a few times in the lobby while they got their mail or took the elevator to the same floor. He smiled and said,
“I got your note.”
The man smiled and stepped aside, letting Arthur inside as he said,
“It’s lovely to meet you, face to face. I’m Eames.”
“I’m a great fan of your playing.”
“Thank you. I always wondered if I was bothering anyone…I’m glad I wasn’t.”
Eames nodded and then he sat in his living room, looking at Arthur, waiting for him.
“Will you still play?”
“I still have your request.”
Eames smiled and waited. Arthur brought his violin up to his chin and began to playing, looking at Eames, seeing he had his complete attention.
4. Are there any other fic writers you admire? If so, who and why?
SO MANY GAH OMG. There are so many people out there who are so incredibly, immensely talented and clever and I can’t stand it. I’ll never be able to list all of the people I admire. There is ivyblossom, whose first-person Sherlock POV is so fantastic I can’t even. There is madlori, who taught me who to write an AU. There is azriona, who always manages to make me care about her OCs *so* much. There is snookiescookies, who writes sex scenes I wish I could write. There is involuntaryorange, who writes stuff that makes me laugh out loud. There is scribblscrabbl, who always makes me squirm with how her characters are SO RIGHT for each other and SO SILLY about it. There is bookshop, who made Eames-as-celebrity seem so effortlessly realistic. There is whiskyrunner, who sells me on every premise, even the ones I’m doubtful on. There is marsdaydream, whose magical realism bowls me over. There is…gah, I’m leaving seven gazillion people out. Everyone who gets comments on me on their fic: YOU. I LOVE YOU. And everyone who doesn’t get comments from me because I haven’t read their stuff yet: I BET I WOULD LOVE YOU, TOO.
20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of
Asked and answered! BUT maybe I will do exchanges of dialogue now, because honestly I am more apt to be proud of my dialogue than anything else.
“When you write this up in your journal, I want you to title it something grand and amazing.” She smiled, as if she could somehow make this into some kind of playful joke.
“I’m going to title it ‘How Fortuna Saved the Universe,’” he responded, seriously, and then walked out of his TARDIS.
From “How Fortuna Saved the Universe.” Because it brings the naming convention of the main fics in the series full-circle, and because it’s Brem being so. incredibly. sweet to his little sister.
“He wants to go to Eton,” John said, waking up now. “He told me the other day. I’ve been trying to think of how to break it to you.”
Sherlock stood over the bed and stared at John. “That’s what you’ve been worrying about for the past week?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, I thought it was nothing, as usual. Nothing that you’d made into something in your own mind.” Sherlock paced around the room, throwing his hands up in the air. “Like you’d shagged somebody else or something.”
John propped himself up on his elbows. “Okay. Sherlock. That wouldn’t be nothing if I’d done that.”
“But that I could understand, because I am incredibly annoying to live with and be married to and I wouldn’t blame you. But Eton.”
“We are going to talk about the fact that you think I’d be justified in cheating on you just as soon as we settle this Eton conversation,” John said.
“He’s not going to Eton,” Sherlock decided. “That’s it. That’s final. Good. Done. Good chat. Shall we move on to the shagging other people thing?”
From “The Radovljica Apicultural Museum.” This exchange is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, because I love that Sherlock would literally rather talk about John cheating on him than Oliver going to Eton. *That’s* how much Oliver going to Eton terrifies him. It’s an exchange that’s a little bit funny but mostly breaks my heart.
You knew I was going to go with “Next Big Thing” for this because NBT might have consistently my favorite dialogue I’ve ever written, I used to giggle to myself while I was writing NBT. I was really, really torn here and was going to go with the Marmite orgy exchange they have when the sex club rumor first breaks but instead I have to go with this because Eames cracks me up SO MUCH in this scene:
“My life is over,” says Eames in despair. “Leave me on a rock for eagles to claw out my eyes.”
“I need to monitor what you’re reading and watching more closely,” says Arthur.
“And when the eagles claw out my eyes, you should take them and preserve them and leave them by your bed so that I can always be watching you.”
“Jesus Christ,” says Arthur, “go to sleep.”
“And that way when you take Sebastian Stan to bed he can be like, ‘What are those creepy eyes?’ and you can say, ‘Those belonged to the last man who shared my bed with me. I sent my bacteria to attack him and then left him on a rock so eagles could eat him.’”
“I don’t think that will make Sebastian Stan want to sleep with me.”
“Sebastian Stan has no sense of adventure.”
did you learn to play pool like that?’
looked so smug that Eames wanted to lick that stupid, adorable dimple in his
cheek. “I am a man of many hidden talents,” he purred demurely.
fucking bet,” remarked Eames, as he set the table back up. “You’re also a
show-off.” Eames lined up his shot.
said Arthur. “Look at how tight I wear my pants.”
cue slipped, tapping the cue ball the barest amount to the left.
12. A fix you wish you had written better, and why?
Oooh, this is a really good question. Hmm. I think “It Just Sort of Happens.” I like that fic, and there are definitely parts of it that I absolutely adore, but I think it should have been a longer fic, but I was weary, at the end of a lot of long fics, and I just didn’t have it in me to do another epic just then. It’s one of those fics that, had it caught me at a different time, could have been 50,000 words, I feel.
13. Favorite fic from another author?
I’m going to be so predictable here, but it’s predictable just because of how true it is: “I’ve Got Nothing to Do Today But Smile (The Only Living Boy in New York)” by gyzym. For not only being my introduction into Arthur and Eames but also for being the most cathartic fic I’ve ever read. Thank you for reminding me what it was like to being a lawyer and reminding me why I walked away, because that makes my happy ending as sweet as Arthur’s. :-)
20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of
This is hard, because, while I look back at my work and am very fond of it, I don’t generally think of it on a sentence-by-sentence level. So, here are four I’ve picked somewhat at random from different times in my development:
This is probably cheating but Brem’s line at the end of the main fic:
“Chaos Theory in Vortex Orbits in Relative Dimensions in Time and Space.” That’s when he answers Rose’s query as to what the name of his memoirs were going to be. First of all, I love little four-year-old Brem earnestly writing his memoirs, which was totally deserved because by that point he’d become the hero of the entire story. But, second of all, I loved that it basically made my fic into Brem’s memoirs. And it started the naming convention for all of the longer fics. And I have a love-hate relationship with a lot of my titles but that one I adore.
“Caring isn’t an advantage, but I never bothered to say that to you because the hypocrisy of my saying that to you was too much to be borne.”
This is from “Saving Sherlock Holmes,” when Mycroft forces Sherlock to realize how much he means to him. I love this line, because the point of SSH was supposed to be that Sherlock wouldn’t grow up to be the lonely, vulnerable creature I perceive him to be. So the “caring isn’t an advantage” that Mycroft so callously flings out to Sherlock in the show turns into something he can’t possibly say in this fic because in this fic Sherlock Holmes is so absolutely, incredibly beloved from such an early age and actually forced to acknowledge it. He’s saved.
And Lucky would tell you that they’re both wrong, because she is both of them, and her plan is to grow up to somehow be both of them always, forever and ever, because they are both her favorite people on the planet, and the best people in the whole wide world, and whenever someone asks her her name, she thinks of her dads and how they tuck her in at night with cuddles and kisses, and how if one of them is traveling for work they still call her every day just to make sure she remembers how much they love her, and how they make her special meals for no reason just because, and how they let her cheat at cards, and how they sing her Spanish songs because of where they found her and French songs because they met in France and Korean songs because who doesn’t love K-pop, and she’s thinking of all of that when she answers the question:
I *love* the way this fic ends. I thought in ending it this way I wouldn’t need to write any more Lucky fics and judging from the number I have half-written on my computer that’s not true, BUT, I just love this last sentence. I love that you get all tied up in a bow just how *happy* they all get to be together, for the rest of their lives.
(I actually love a lot of “Lucky.” I debated giving you a sentence from Arthur’s farewell to her instead, because to be honest Arthur’s farewell always manages to make me teary.)
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“I just can’t figure out why you looked at me and thought that I would be
anything worth stealing.” Really, that’s just a tease line. But it’s one I like.