On to Felicia's room which is based around the hideous tie pattern papering the walls. The attempt to do something to embolden the taupe has failed -- it just looks brown to my less-than-discerning eye, which seems like an unfortunate result to a client who expresses a desire for bold colors. The afghan sits on the edge of the bed menacingly. Erik's room is... finished. Oh, don't get me wrong -- the furniture's nice enough, and I like the wood paneling on the far wall well enough. It's just that Erik has chosen to decorate the walls with several pictures that simply contained the word "Art" written in a font best described as Murderous Drifter Helvetica. The spattering of red paint on the pictures isn't helping lighten the mood any. "He wanted a space that was modern, industrial, and boat-like," Erik says of his client. And a place where no one can hear his victims' cries for mercy, I guess. And so we come to Carisa's fever dream of a room, with its carnation wall, orange rug and chair, and green mattress. "Orange was not meant to be in the room, I swear," Carisa tells the judges in an I-can-quit-at-any-time tone of voice. There's a "25 M.P.H." sign hanging on the carnation wall, which seems appropriate since anyone who would enjoy living in this room must be cautious and slow. Showing off his room, Michael describes his client Justine as someone who likes "clean, bright, happy rooms" -- hopefully those that include partridges, since a grand total of six are painted on the walls. Michael says he was looking to create an uncluttered space (it looks pretty cluttered) that reflected his client's fun personality (I guess it depends on how you define "fun") and that didn't look like it came from a yard sale (again -- partridges?).
Ryan's room comes last, and it deserves its own paragraph. If the art in Erik's room makes it look like it should be inhabited by someone caught in the struggle between good and evil, then Ryan's design seems perfect for someone who's given up on the good part and embraced super-villainy whole-heartedly. The room -- walls, floors, everything -- is, as the Rolling Stones once advised, painted black (except for three racing stripes that ring the walls). A series of circular designs hang from the walls -- they're chairs, but they look like targets where the client can practice hurling Bowie knives or throwing stars or some other item that's been outlawed in most states. And the bed, which is about chest high on a normal-sized adult -- is surrounded by a crude stick structure that will be great for keeping the feral pigs from attacking you while you sleep. Oh, you don't keep feral pigs in your live-work space? What kind of super-villain are you? I also want to point out that Ryan has covered the bed with the pelt of a oversized stuffed animal that he has gutted and skinned. I'm beginning to think that Ryan needs the sort of help that Todd Oldham's soothing words cannot offer. "It looks a little Willy Wonka," Michael observes of Ryan's room. Yes, but only if Willy Wonka was wanted by authorities in nine states on weapons charges. Ryan professes not to care what the judges think: "If I lose, fuck 'em." If that's the case, then going by the expression on their faces as they looked at what Ryan wrought, I'd say that some judges are about to get fucked.