Your family, your rock, your design inspiration

As the holidays are fast approaching, the clambering for decor, family, time and the ease of presentation is upon us. I was in my garage this morning looking for an adequate shipping box for some mid century Ben Siegel plates, it dawned on me that here we are at the holiday threshold and where are those darn giant fall wreaths? Or did I get new ones? What was my last thoughts when packing things up in 2016? Who knows, at this point it either is the hair color or age for me.

 So the scramble is what gets everyone. Do I want to emit this put together home, lifestyle, etc... with my outside decor? Of coarse I do! Is that for me or my family? It is for both. My family, as small as it may be, is what keeps me grounded. Each member is an equation of what keeps me focused. They trust that I have them as my main focus, the center of my heart.

I begin to relax realizing that the wreaths will show themselves, I got this. My family in their infinite wisdom know I will get the holidays moving again. But what is it like for the harried masses that subcumb to commercials upon commercials of have to’s or should haves? I think about it for about two seconds and move on. Squirrel!

I didn't do cards this year, I didn't buy gifts, I didn't put up a tree, I didn’t do much of anything in respects to traditional holiday expectations. The majority of my offspring are adults and the final teen is a 40 year old in disguise and I am convinced he was born that way. No one has a list or is asking about when Santa is arriving. No regrets, just a casual affair with holiday dinner on Christmas Eve and hanging out.

This past year has been a long stretch of figuring out what or who I am. Always in some sort of identity underling role, I have had to step out and announce who I am and why. Not easy for a confident wallflower. Linda, who has been gone for almost two years, still guides me along. My mantra, WWLD. I do have people who fill in for bits of her energy but it definitely isn’t that compact dynamo with the spikey blonde tuffs of hair, loosing her Mary Kay in my truck, carrying her cell phone in her bra, yelling at me to not deny myself and always planning our next expedition on a nickel.

As I write this it is hard to hold back what she meant to me. Sniffle. No one compares, no one should. So I find that if i get up in the morning at some ungodly hour, that I get a jump on life and the meaning of it. It doesn't bring her back, memories don’t seem to dim, the hurt is still strong. And sometimes I just want to scream as to why so many evil parasitic people get to walk this planet and injure so many and a one who gave so much light doesn’t. An age old question when good leaves us and bad gets to partake.

So holidays are hard as they are for a vast majority of people. It was Lindas favorite time for working our businesses and getting families together. I sat down this morning with coffee at roughly 2 am and reviewed my inventory, made lists, transferred information and analyzed what to do next. Motivation is to clear my kitchen of inventory overflow.  Boundaries of “stuff”.  Set with holiday angst comes rejuvenation. More seriousness. Perhaps even moving forward in developing something more concrete. Taking chances, finding that source to catapult forward. Not trying to sound like an ad of coarse but hopeful.

You had me at steam engine

After thoughts on flea market weekend. Beyond the fact the heat and humidity were crazy intolerable, the show I had done this weekend have brought some things into perspective. The show name of coarse involved barn/farm motifs. I catered to this in a very loose sense. Some have taken it to the end all extreme. I began to mull over the events focus.
Reading an article this morning in current issue of "Where Women Create", Kim Leggett of City Farmhouse Style discusses her evolution from leaving her every day position to opening an antique shop, to shows, writing, decorating etc.. developing her farmhouse style. She clearly has seen the move to that direction. The interest in taking an urban dwelling and bringing a primitive earthy feel seems to have an overwhelming response. This got me thinking.

                                 

I, on the other hand, feel that it really comes from our roots or our perceived roots. I come from a German background steeped in transportation, steam engines, heavy metal, the ultimate of form of engineering transferred into function of movement. With that, travel from city to towns and what they have to offer is another feature. Travel to Berlin to the opera house, Baden Baden the steam baths, Munich for holiday overload in decor and eats, etc.. these are the functional result. I connect with this process and the outcome.

                                          

I gravitate to primitive wood pieces of foundry forms or molds curved, metals, industrial pieces that are used in manufacturing. Primitive not in a barn find item but primitive to the multisensory interlocking three dimensional. Then I look to art of consequence, bold, firm, rich and not necessarily  comforting. Sometimes an item of kitsch thrown in the mix. This has always been my esthetic since creating my space as a child.


                                   

The barn/ farm or urban farm, has become the standard that everyone tends to emulate but unfortunately every said home is basically lacking individuality. Each a copy of each other, each a product of a trend. Not timeless, not reflecting the personalities, not a single spark creating an emotion of wonder. Shabby chic became something else, painted chalkware furniture a torturous result of Suzy homemaker gone wild.
That's fine but keeping up with the design Joneses has its limitations. It I so necessary to find your voice, find what makes you move and feel, find the inspiration. Don't let trends dictate, don't let ones kitchen or farm table be YOUR flavor. Each space unique, each space a product of you and each has to survive your brand of life.

It's not your mothers flea market

The Flea Market, car boot sales, trash and treasure markets, jumbo sales, whatever you call them, they were starting to become this dying event in the 1990s and early 2000s. With the exception of Rose Bowl. Rose bowl just got bigger and then divided into sections. Todays Flea Markets are a thing, a rage, a community. It is a coming together of like tastes, like minds and friends.

There are markets that I have deemed for the "linen ladies". Shoppers in earthtone linens with a penchant for rough, rusty, farm/barn remnants to bring home and decorate. They appear to all know each other, try to haggle but aren't completely dedicated to it and love to acquire. To see and be seen. It's fun to watch and more interesting to understand. The human condition, at least the condition of it shopping.

Then there are the markets that are for those in the “biz”. I am in the biz so to me this is fun. There is no holds barred, always wiggle room, lots of banter and buying in volume. A seller/buyer paradise. Bringing trucks up to the entrance, loading, strapping. It is a wonderful filling sight. Love of the haul, love of the whole event. This is the industry loving flea markets.

Then there are those that are somewhere in the middle and haven't found their beat as of yet. Those, they will find themselves or will disband. I have send two in the last year just have no direction and fall apart.

Flea Markets have become thematic, with an emphasis on farms, barns, rusty and chippy. Dealers are raiding the landscape of America to find the best farm find tucked for years in a dark corner. I think California has exhausted their plethora of hidden gems. Dealers are on the road Instagramming their trips and finds. I follow the tales of acquisition with amazement and excitement. To know those things are not forgotten, lost or destroyed, is a joy.

At beginning of September, I have my own Flea Market to tackle. It is themed Farm and has plenty of chippy barn relics. I see the photos of vendors finds and I know that it is the usual fair. Try to bring unusual items that touch on the theme but transcend. So as flea markets become even more popular and seem to run their circuit, customers will buy their arm full of treasures and vendors will continue to scout for those great finds. 

Collecting, grouping, arranging and it is all work, fun work

In the last few weeks I have begun grouping several types of items for sale. Not intentionally, it just sort of happened. I thought for me, I love it. I am in the business of "stuff", so that makes it difficult to not group them, but my own crazy varied easthetic verses work related becomes blurred. I have fallen into the rhythm, "do what you love, love what you do". It is on my business cards, although in German. So I am fortunate. The twist is that those lines do get blurred and unproductive at times.

                                                      

                                         

Yes, I ended up with arms and digits. Not sure why but I did. 

So currently I am on a vintage/antique quilt kick. More importantly a cotton feed sack quilt kick. Although I ran into this particular rayon quilt topper. I don't do toppers generally. Beautiful prints and that great weighted flowy feel. Quilts are such a product of love. Whether you hand stitch or machine, it really is a testament of time and a perseverance. Some just manage to come together and some I fear, look like a struggle. The baby block rayon is a personal choice. I can back it and then figure out what to do with it. I may love it for awhile. 

Crazy quilts are yet another favorite. This particular 1930's is made with Calico dresses and what not in the Appalachians. Again I love it but I can't love everything. So it will be one I hold back for awhile. The one I thought that would not sell, sold right away. This one I thought would fly off the shelf.

Picked up two childrens quilts. One has patches lovingly sewn on. Both are from the thirties.

Feed sack quilt from the thirties again but backing is newer. Found two cutter quilts for projects . Then two others have sold

Quilts are a funny thing for me. I love them but they really aren't my thing. My personal ones are men's twead jackets in a block, a bark cloth one, and then some that are just woolrich. The only other is one I got fo the trailer is beautiful yellows. It is hard to really know why I would want to pick up any. 

New Week Rising With Eisenberg

Sometimes when you sit to write an entry for your blog, all the ideas and clever words just escape you. For two weeks I have had such great entry ideas and then when I sit down, bam-gone. Unbelievable. In theory I should just write the moment something comes to mind. Unfortunately, the situation doesn't always present itself.

This week I read an article, "Sorry, No one Want Your Parents Stuff", by Richard Eisenberg. He equates us to the IKEA generation and basically we are lost. No one wants the china pattern, no one wants the records, etc... Untrue!

                        

Yes we are of a generation that, yes, sometimes buys at IKEA. Shit I do. Look at any high end mag and I can spot the IKEA light or kitchen rack. For that matter the tiny house world heavily uses the clever storage innovations IKEA carries. BUT, I max a ton of stuff. Most of my house is vintage in some form or fashion, but I do shop IKEA, Restoration Hardware and PB.

 

Who is to say that I cant mix my Eames lounger and ottoman with my deco leopard theatre seats with my ikea 4 x 4 Expidit bookcase? No one! It really is up to us to see what works and what there is a  market for.

                       

Eisenberg tries to push us into a category when in reality that is completely unrealistic. He must not have any concept of the trend that exists. Through limitless Facebook and social media, you can find the appropriate outlet for those items Eisenberg deems garbage. Estate sales are all the rave. Devotees of this phenom plan their weekends and destinations according to estate sale listings.

I find that people are tired of the throwaway society and are working to not only recycle their cans and use their own bags at grocery stores, they want to own something from the past and find new meaning in it. Connect with our parents and grandparents. Now that does not include the fact that some extremes exist.

Last week a young man in his twenties came into my friends shop in a beige leisure suit of polyester. Quintessential seventies and the worst part of it. Some things should remain in the past because they were not that great to begin with.

So for Eisenberg, well maybe things didn't work out for him, but the rest of us? Let us wallow in our grandparents china and bad polyester leisure suits. There is a lid for every pot. 

Spring, change and moving on

Spring is that thing we just cant wait for it to arrive and then when it does we are in some sort of euphoric frenzy. It practically happens over night. With all of that comes a bigger then life to do list. A lot of details and a lot of big feats to accomplish.

                 

      

So taking inventory and making a shift, I feel it. I have more time taken up by business and I need to

keep that momentum up. It is a hard thing to leave people and things behind that you love and cherish, but sometimes they can't see the forest among the trees. Some have adapted as I have and our relationships have evolved. Some have influenced me to be more productive. I guess it is what it is. 

On Monday I took on another estate for clearing, but am working with very caring and lovely people.  They care about the estate and the prior owner, that makes it a great joy to work on. The level of enthusiasm is contagious. I love it. 

                       

                                                   

It is in a Pullman car and of coarse the ceilings are curved. It has add ons but it definitely has a fun funky vibe. The prior owner was a character actor and for the sake of privacy for family members I am keeping it under wraps. But I am calling it the land of bottles, marbles and insulators. Plenty of tongue and cheek humor throughout and so many hidden treasures. 

             

                               

                                                        

A little peak.

So my eyes glazed over. Aparently he painted the jars with watercolors so the letters were easier to read. It's that little bit of detail that make it so interesting to work on. Next week we continue...

Aesthetically Me

 Aesthetic: the philosophical theory or set of principles governing the idea of beauty at a given time and place.
 Or the Urban definition: Something tumblr weirdos say way too often and use it for every damn thing under the sun. A generally annoying word.

Ok, I rather the first definition since it is the basis of what I am writing. My aesthetic tends to shift from serious high end mixed with everything to everything mixed with a serious high end. What I collect, what I use in personal decor, depends drastically on me and what I want to look at. Living room serious with only original artworks compare to the kitschy vibrant kitchen. But all of it is for my visual inclination. 

In selling, I tend to be playful but stay to consumer wants, even the things that they do not know about yet. Buyers are on a current trend for about a blink, embracing the entirety of what they believe to be "it".  My least favorite of these has been the shabby chic with chalk painting and variations there of. The shabby design aesthetics has been capitalized to no ridiculous end and has brought a whole industry with reproduction products from China. This apparently has spilled into the barn/farm flavor of the month as well.

Barn/farm was initially industrial/salvage or primitives and for some reason it has taken off on its own. My issue with it is that dealers have based their whole easthetic on this current wave. Their DBA, etc... not a wise choice. So how do you wrap your mind around this? You do not. You let it be the wave that it is. For those of us in the business for any extended period of time, we see the signs.
A show, a couple, a rush to success, compromised aesthetic.

Yes, the Fixer Upper couple comes to mind. Yes, everyone loves them. Yes, they appear to be who they portray but because of a rush to success, they too compromised their easthetic. Their cornerstone shop is filled with barn/farm reproductions from China at a huge mark up. In the reviews of their current venture it is the primary complaint. We are all privy to the same wholesalers so we see the compromise and markup.

The consumers aesthetic is "compromised" in a catch twenty two. Buyers love the rural raw pieces that say America, work, sweat, simplicity but we are buying China. Now of course there is someone in China working hard, assembling, taking care in their manufacturing in a massive scale, but it misses the point. The catch is that to capture the "feel" we have bought it from a country we associate with cheap labor, poor materials and bad manufacturing. That becomes not the "feel". We do not want the visual of a Chinese woman hunkered down putting things together and then product shipped in a c-train to America. Never mind my view of manufacturing in a country where there are no regulations on environmental responsibilities.

So although my aesthetic can be somewhat narrow minded, I do think it is important to look at the long term. I let pieces sometimes guide me, I do not let a movement, a craze dictate. The drawback, I never know where my day, week, month will go and I never know what the flavor is going to be until it hits me. That can be challenging and that can be what drives you. My friend Sigrid once told me, "...just go with it and trust yourself". So the hunt is not only for the item but for what satisfies your aesthetic. You know when it comes at you like a ton of bricks. Your aesthetic is complete.

Upgrade by redesigning, downsizing ideas & adding your two cents

There is no lack of apathy when it comes to creating. Creating from nothing, creating from found objects, creating in randomness and creating from bought items with purposeful outcomes. There is a whole host of ways to go. I tend to create through randomness until I find what it is that strikes me and then voila it is purposeful. But to get to that point you have to be able to let go. This is not an easy feat.

    

Letting go means to be blank, void of typical preconceived notions. For instance coloring within the lines. You are to color inside the thick black preprinted image. If you go out, there is some sort of ramification. Not much when you are 5 but definitely when you are 15. But what is it to just close you eyes and imagine the preprinted image and just color away. Outside, inside, over, under, it really doesn't matter. This is the forced box that has been programmed into us and we look to break free.

Likewise in creating a feel, a look, a concept, it is our bindings that we need to walk away from. Traditional versus modern. Conventional vsersus eclectic. I think most of us fit in between but struggle there. Creating and feeling wholely secure is the goal, but what can be done to take it from the norm to fabulous?

I find just throwing away thinking, just put it out of your mind, you are safe, you don't need to be coddled or stroked. Embrace the nothingness. Listen to your environment, let the sun embrace you. Not in a new agey way but just to feel. No Telly, no phone, no nothing but you. If you have to go to another room, travel trailer, shed, whatever. Sometimes even your car works. I do a vaiety, it is funniest if no one knows where you are quite.

So what is your process, do you figure things out on a pad, do you create a sample or do you begin the final project? Sometimes I don't even know where to begin. Sometimes I have a single object that is to trigger me. A plank, a metal door remnant, a random textile. The goal is to make sure that that object is not one where your focus is its original function or state.

The process is the key. I revel in the process.
                                   

This brings me to Emery Blogdon: His process took him to his shed. It was a need to work with his hands and filling a selfless void. He was a giver. He went from the ordinary to the extraordinary without any pretentions. It is organic even though it didn't have the visual fluidity, it has the movement. He found that space in a shed.

 

What attracts me to this was the honest letting go to bringing elements alive to do good or to feel. The movement of acquisition to incorporation is breathtaking. I happened on an article a few years back and was drawn to Blagdons work. It was deep. He was an independent rhythm finding that voice.

              

Does his intense installation work? Not by conventional standards. But it does. It does in the sense it brings you to a cognizant space within its presence. It draws an emotion, an experience, a finding of sorts. His body of work continues to travel and heal the senses bringing the process and its product to an innocence in a complicated, stressed and confusing world.

With installations that are multisensnory, as this is, it allows you to stop....breath....and reconfigure.