I am a voyeur. I have a good eye, and usually I do no harm, but I am quite aware that what I am doing is amateur. Enjoyable. Pleasant. But not great.
So when I find something great I go over it and over it and over it. Flip. Squint. Check.
Pick, pick, pick hoping to discern the thing that he has that I want.
The pictures help, of course, but what I want to do is read about the process. Explain it to me. Take me with you. And Thomas O’Brien does this in American Modern, which has been sitting on either my desk or bedside table since it arrived at my door shockingly early one morning.
The pictures are wonderful and the projects are fresh – including both renditions of his apartment that you may have seen before – as O’Brien describes them with such care.