Cow Hyde

I was inspired on Sunday.  Who was responsible for this enlightenment?  My grandmother......momo.  She is fabulous by the way.  Absolutely fabulous.  A design guru.  Ahead of her time. A collector of art.  The epitome of style.  And a friend.  A good friend.   Her wing  has always been strong, colorful and bold.  And in the midst of her leopard prints, red lipstick, and crystal glasses of chardonnay, she taught me, at a young age, about the necessity that are black spiked stilettos and the nirvana of cashmere.  Who could ask for anything more? 

I have always looked to her for inspiration and found it on so many occasions.  Her eye and passion for art illuminates the walls she creates within her home.  Each oil, water color, sketch, sculpture are delicately picked from her detailed eye.  Her gift is unique.  The capacity to peel back the layers, see the artist at work, feel, in her own soul, their lust to create.  I have always been fascinated by her ability to take in the entire piece of art, then break it down to it's decomposed beauty.  Her aesthetic is worth a mention as well, hell, it's worth an engraving.  All of her homes, created and brought to life, welcoming them in as part of her family.  Each room filled and mismatched in a beautifully cohesive way, all executed in a fierce expression.

Among this colorful chaos is where I sat on Sunday, comfortable in a cow Hyde chair, sipping coffee and chatting with my grandmother.  As we flipped through design magazines and gossiped about the latest and greatest, I inquired about her antiquing quests and how she became so knowledgeable in her aesthetic.  Her response?  "I just started selling out of my garage.  I had no money, but I had a need to express myself through buying and selling art, antiques or things that interested me.  I started small and then grew.  I eventually realized that this is what I'm good at, people respect my eye and from there I rode full speed ahead and never looked back."  I admire this so much.  It made me realize that every one's passion is so individual.  It's a relationship we build with ourselves.  Our ways of expressing can not be taught, told or assigned, it comes strictly from within. We find ways to do what we love, no matter what the circumstance. 

And through her story, I started thinking about myself, my family, my friends, the people who create in their own way.  Whether it's my boyfriend, the foodie, the business owner, the activist who's skillet is a blank canvas, cooks for the love of food and wants so much for those around him to live healthier lives, or my sister, the painter, who's prints and paintings have become annual Christmas cards that I look forward too each year.  My mother, the advocate for the arts, who's poise, style and love of old buildings has grown into a career and a respected place in the community, or miss Rigel, the fashionista, who's wardrobe never sees a dull moment.  Or Angie, the creative eye, who finds a broken mirror and see's it's potential for a work of art.  Carrie, the jewelry designer, the lover of stones and metal or my dear Stacey, the craft aficianado who's love of markers, paints, construction paper and glitter guns never ceases to amaze me.  Each one of these magnificent people and so many others who have touched my life, have found their inner spark, their creative juice, their "this is me and only me" freak flag.  They, like my grandmother, have embraced what they love and while moving fast and forward, choose not to look back with regret but grow and continue to inspire.

 http://www.mohawkgeneralstore.net/ - Amazing.