So....I had all these great ideas, only to find out that I am only going to be able to fit so much in the box....with some creative packing I am hoping to get quite a bit of it in there, but we'll see....still making stuff. Here's what I have done so far: Painted wood tray, 2 bracelets, 4 pairs of earrings, 3 pairs of crochet embellished socks, 3 small doilies.... And part way through construction are: 2 mini shadow boxes, 4 tassel pairs, 3 wall plaquettes.... And still have all the supplies for some other things that I was hoping to make, but I will have too see how much room I have left in the box! I would upgrade the box to a bigger size, but the postage would be exhorbitant due to how much it weighs already! Netta

Walkin Yesindeed, a reporter once asked Louis Sullivan the same basic question you just asked me, and got back one of Sullivan's typical cryptic responses: "I would describe it as the successful solution of a problem." Thanks a lot, Louis. Big help. And when somebody else asked Sullivan to describe the style of the Auditorium's own decoration, he said "I would prefer not to describe it at all. I would perfer for you to look at it yourself and make up your own mind." Let's just say that Sullivan would have gotten himself eliminated on the first round of something like "Design Star" that are less about design ability or artistic vision and more about personality & sense of humor. And those things are fine, but they have nothing to do with design. Anyway, here's the thing: like I said above, most of Sullivan's mature work was on major commissions: the Auditorium, the Chicago Grand Opera House, the Chicago Stock Exchange, department stores, banks, railway stations. After Adler & Sullivan becamse famous with the opening of the Auditorium, he seldom designed anything as small as a residence again, and most of the residential designs that came out of the office were in fact Wright's, or George Elmslie's, with Sullivan directing the overall design & the ornamental detailing. Even in this somewhat limited role, it was his vision that determined the aesthetic form of the finished buildings and the look that we think of as Sullivanian, in the same way that Fritz Kreisler & George Solti & Daniel Barenboim put their individual stamps on the sound of the Chicago Symphony, even though they weren't the ones playing all the instruments. Unfortunately, since Sullivan didn't really do residences, and never furnished the interiors of the houses that came out of the A&S offices, we have to look at his other buildings to find what motivated him, but it's not hard to see. In a letter to a banker client, he talked of the decorative scheme of the interior as a 'color symphony' and he wasn't kidding: the finished banking room has literally dozens of intermingled colors, mostly soft greens, yellows & oranges. It also has an elaborate stenciling scheme that blends all those contrasting colors with such subtlety that they seem to dissolve into a green haze that floats in front of the wall plane. Not only that, the main banking room is lit with a pair of gigantic arched windows of golden yellow & white glass, and at night the room glows with the light from four immense electroliers that hang from the corners of the room, fixtures in the form of gigantic clusters of sea green foliage & coiling, intertwined stems, all studded along their length with electric light bulbs. And don't forget the honey-colored Roman bricks on the walls, the intricately molded paster ceiling ai more tinys of green, the green terra cotta moldings, the bronze teller cages or the green marble counters. What's amazing was that this incredibly rich scheme was designed not for a sophiticated city audience but for a small-town farming community, where the people in line were likely to be standing in muddy boots & dirty overalls, and when he was designing for the really fancy people, it was amazing. But rather than intimidating the locals, it enobled them and their daily activities. Sullivan was a color genius, that's all I can say. After dinner I'll look up the description of his color scheme for the McVickers' Theatre here in the city, which, even as mere words on a page--the theatre was demolished decades ago--is one of the most striking combinations you'll ever see.

I went looking for images of those elements. Ribbed glass panels in cabinet doors is easy enough. Here's one in a bathroom vanity: Ribbed glass (or ''seeded'' glass) is also often found in period light fixtures: As for marquetry countertops, if you asked most kitchen cabinet makers for such, I imagine they would gape blankly at the gabbling woman. But there are plenty of companies doing stock and custom hardwood marquetry inlays using CNC laser cutters. Here's the thing - they are doing it in floors. Google ''hardwood floor inlay'' and see. Yes, many of the rosettes are infeasible for a 26'' counter, but look for the ''border'' designs - or create your own. Assemble a 26'' wide section of inlaid ''floor'' on a 3/4'' plywood substrate, encase it in Waterlox, and I do believe you'd have yourself a marquetry countertop. Another option - perhaps cheaper - is stenciling on hardwood, of which this is an example. And so is this What else? Beveled glass is readily available, as is chrome countertop edging, and any furniture or auto upholstery shop can cover a panel of 1/8'' plywood in soft butterscotch leather framed in silver studs (maybe not actual silver, but close enough). I don't know exactly what version of Art Deco you are headed for, or if you even like butterscotch, but the point is, you are not doing yet another white kitchen, you're doing something that isn't being done by the mainstream, so the ordinary kitchen sources are not making this stuff. Sure, there is cool Art Deco hardware around, but what passes for ''Art Deco'' kitchen cabinetry in the online catalogs is . . . disappointing. You are going to have to make it, or at least source it, yourself - and I think if you're comfortable outside the painted lines, you can. You'll find yourself hiring a floor guy to work on a countertop, hunting down the local hot rod upholstery shops, telling your cabinet maker to fit bathroom vanity faces to kitchen cabinet boxes - they'll still look at you like you're crazy, but you'll know you're not. Go for it, girl!

Completely meaningless. What's the best cheese burger.