At the bottom of the rabbit hole there is a mad hatter who just pitches a million china and porcelain patterns everywhere until there is no where left to sit, barely a way to think, and a visual onslaught so demanding the mind just spins around and falls down, down, down.
It was hard to miss the point: Madness, mayhem, and, oh, cup of tea? The settings, which were everywhere and nowhere all at once were a wild mismatch of nearly every stunningly beautiful pattern on the planet which ever deigned to make a teapot or cup. The colors were overwhelming but cheerful and alluring. I wanted to look away because it was such an obvious train wreck but I could not stop wondering how they captured the thing so thoroughly, nor why they wanted to.
I understand the appeal of Alice in Wonderland. Conceptually nothing could be more dream-like, as open to interpretation, or bursting with insanely brilliant possibilities. But it has a downside, which is that it is a story about madness. Some will feel one, some the other, precious dangerous few can reach both. I dove right into the patterns but it was not long before claustrphobia overtook me and I wanted to tidy the whole thing and slap that stupid rabbits' snout.
Honestly, looking at this table made me feel crazy inside. I just wanted to get away from it.
And so, it achieved its goal, did it not? Alice realized finally she was the only one at the tea party who was sane and wanted to jet. Much like the Hostess who refuses to deal with chaos.
I tell you, it was maddening this obtuse concept. Looking at these pictures rattles me anew.