Red, burgundy, blood, maroon, wine, scarlet, firebrick, rose, auburn, ruby, and lust, there is something about red, the consistency of it that draws me in. I want to explore its intensity, and dabble in its rich oeuvre. It speaks of energy, power, and strength. It raises blood pressures, it take no victims in its hunger.
It’s a colour that makes me feel powerful, gives me strength like no other. It is the red lipstick on the cheek, the tantrums, the tempers that rattle you, it does this, and it wants to evoke you.
I want to make a red room, of velvet, or glossy sticky red tar. I want to entice you into my boudoir, for let’s be honest, we all have an underlying desire to investigate, a subconscious lust to play with fire.
Let me describe the scene for you. The bar you are in is dimly lit, it is trying to be hip; industrial pipes are exposed, giving the underground New York vibe bars are currently sporting at this present period in time. At the back of the room is a lustful red space, inside it is a comfy, slightly sunken red 3-seater sofa, with armchairs tightly by its side, a Chesterfield perhaps; a sofa of sophistication and class. Or deep red plush soft velvet, coupled with deep buttons or a simple womanly curve over the back of the sofa.
The velvet has luminosity, a virtual glow under the lamplight, giving it divine blood red warmth. It may conjure up film scenes or an imaginary confrontation in one of the many red light districts across Europe. This space is meant to be snug, a tight space of imposing walls. These will be padded out with wadding, making voluptuous mounds upon the wall, the more people that enter the space the more claustrophobic the walls will become. I want to suggest the feeling of a sleazy presence in a packed bar, which feels too close for comfort. There’s an arm around you, and you can feel a heavy breath upon your neck in the crowded room. What looked all right from a distance, now you’re near, you want nothing more than to vacate.
Smaller accompaniments to the space would be the use of cups. On arrival to the space there would be a free cup on wine. The wine would be a cheap red. A potent vinegar, a ghastly burn in the back of your throat, delivered to you in a higher quality red cup. It would have a band of velvet around the middle where you would firmly grip the cup. Do I make it comfortable, with the smoothness of the velvet in the palm of your hand, or make it irritable by wrapping it the other way round, with the rough raised nap of the fabric on your hand. I imagine the bar to be packed, you are holding onto your drink for longer than usual because it is only slightly bearable, but enough to drink. In this time your palms are sweaty, the room is hot, and the velvet would be more and more uncomfortable in your clammy hand.
The velvet could be on all places that would be in contact with your hand: the cups, the arms of sofas, the rim of the bar, and the banister of the stairway.