Maximalism seems to be an aesthetic of allowed clutter, which is like a howdy-do to me. Interior designers are usually more inclined to want the I-just-threw-everything-in-the-closet-this-morning-before-the-photographer-arrived look. So this book of decorator self-love (self-abuse) comes at you from a different angle, and I like it--love/abuse.
Enough to contribute.
Each chapterette is a house I have visited, with such an army of images as
Leonardo Da Vinci Da Vidi Da Veni
Luis Royo luridness
tai chi teachers
and much else besides--muchness being the point.
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