I have been waiting on Peter Pan to rescue me for years. Ahh yes, the whimsy fairy tale whispers of an ageless green super hero, swashbuckling his way into my window and extending a hand of responsibility freedom. In my bed I lay, under a credit card purchased, debt ridden duvet cover enveloping me in my "grown up" existence. On certain evenings, my determined sales pitch becomes even more severe; I bargain. Yes it's true, I bargain with my man in green, "look Pete, I will gladly assist in leading a lost boys adventure or upkeep on fort maintenance if you just come and take me away". I would even risk my own hand at the sight of said tick tocking crocodile. But, to no avail. He does not appear, nor does his shadow.....even the glimmer of a tinker fairy and her dust are not seen. All that exists night after night is me, in my bed, with the darkness and my thoughts to occupy time until I drift off into dizzy dreaming.
A boy named Pan. A place called Never Never Land. A fairy and her wings. A captain with a hook. A lagoon of mermaids and lost boys with swords. I ask you, revisit this place. We were all there once, in our youthful wonder. We lived a life of innocence and possibility, where losing your shadow could exist and time stood still. Our adventures were based on rocks, caves, construction paper and mud pies. Our dreams and emotion held steady through our thirst filled eyes, delight and laughter were our dearest friends.
I miss this. I do. I still try in my adult path to grasp on to the happiness of life, holding tight and swinging from vine to vine. There is truly a youthful beauty that surrounds us every single day of our lives, but as we age, this obvious picture tends to dull. It fogs over, at times even disappears. This scares me. Our creative empire grows from our youth. To continuously feel inspired and grow as individuals we must remember our innocence and simple joys. It is in this, that we can let go, we can become free, our limitations washed away and endless knows no boundaries.
So I ask you Pan, come to my rescue. Jump stead fast through my window in wild abandon. Sprinkle me with fairy dust and escort me back, back to a time of effortless possibility where pajama pants were a true comfort, and the hug of a grandparent was pure joy. Oh and please pan; remind me of my delight in sparklers, and the safety of my dogs fur, the giggles between girlfriends and my mothers familiar voice. The excitement of sneaking cookies and the messy freedom of finger painting. Where ice cream was for breakfast and grass stains the latest of trends; or the assured belief that stuffed animals feel and our money is made from lemonade stands. All of these memories and more….remind me of what it felt like to be young.
I realize you might be too busy for me Peter Pan; repainting ones adult soul can be a heavy weighted request. I know planning adventures and taunting crocodiles are on your highest of priorities, I’ve come to terms with your busy existence. But, dearest Pan, if you do have time for a midnight perch, I beg you to extend your hand, shake firmly with purpose, and promise me, I will not forget the childlike honesty of my creative possibilities.
Inspire
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Tamborine
I haven't written in a while. I've had a momentary lapse of reasoning to say the least. I took my top hat off, put away my thinking machine and just kind of fell vacant for a moment. We're allowed, aren't we? Please, answer me blogging friends from across the land of laptops, monitors and ipads....we can stop when we want to right???? Well whether it is of blogging protocol or not, I took a sabbatical. I can't tell you why, or even if it was necessary, but my soul needed a reboot. You know, that feeling. An immediate need to clean out the creative storage space; dust a few things off, move a few pieces here and there, and reconfigure the layout. My thoughts just weren't flowing. I must say though, after taking some time away, I am now realizing that although breaks are nice (especially the ones that plop you down on a nice blanket of sand, stretch out the soul and give you wind blown hair) they can also bring on a sense of emptiness. I don't enjoy emptiness, in any form. I participate in an active existence, constantly surrounding myself with people and embracing movement. Empty is just.....well, boring. So, here I sit, back in the ever rambling snapshot of life's images, merrily making my mark back to my place of writing.
Interestingly enough, during my sabbatical of nothingness I still found myself delightfully inspired. There is just so much zing out there. Life's full frontal, pulp and seeds, gut of the earth inspiration still crept its way through my bones, and in the end, yanked me out of my funk and pierced my thoughts into motion. I found myself to BE a canvas. The world around me splashing it's colors in my thirsty direction. Its all out there, waiting to be seen, even if your not looking for it. Among these boisterous exclamations was an art fair I paroozed, a much needed vacation to Florida and of course, the everyday expressions of design that seem to find my wandering eye at the perfect moment.. But most importantly, I stumbled upon a fabulous book called Just Kids. The book, I will tell all of you, is a masterpiece. If any of you out there have a love for art, feather jewelry and bell bottoms, bob Dylan or the electric age of rock n roll, you will love, love, did I mention LOVE this book. Just Kids. Patty Smith. An epic tale that describes an era dripping with genre in it's most beautiful of forms. Pages filled with stories of having lived, and I mean truly lived; witnessing our cultures desperation and desire to break free. It is the true, tell tale story of friendship, art and beauty, war and peace, love and understanding. A dedication, to the music freaks, the dreamers, those who whole heartedly danced at Woodstock, arms waving, dancing through air, feeling the sap of innocence drip mightily off their dirt filled fingernails. The re-creation of a scene, giving a voice to the walls of The Chelsea Hotel or a face to the likes of Andy Warhol and his Nico. A beautifully bold vision of those surrendering their fear, as they put trust into the artists that moved them, allowing themselves to question the overpowering idea of one road leads to everything. This moment in time brought forth a reckoning of the senses, a creative conundrum of possibility surrounded by the lives of artists and musicians like Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, The Doors, Jefferson Airplane. This is inspiration in it's truest of forms. So to you Miss Patti Smith, thank you. You have brought me back, head dizzy with excitement, encouraging me to feel inspired again. And god I do. I so so do. And on the rodeo goes my friends....the mellow hum and honey of Dylans voice echoing off my walls and the tap tap tap of my words a blazing.
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Interestingly enough, during my sabbatical of nothingness I still found myself delightfully inspired. There is just so much zing out there. Life's full frontal, pulp and seeds, gut of the earth inspiration still crept its way through my bones, and in the end, yanked me out of my funk and pierced my thoughts into motion. I found myself to BE a canvas. The world around me splashing it's colors in my thirsty direction. Its all out there, waiting to be seen, even if your not looking for it. Among these boisterous exclamations was an art fair I paroozed, a much needed vacation to Florida and of course, the everyday expressions of design that seem to find my wandering eye at the perfect moment.. But most importantly, I stumbled upon a fabulous book called Just Kids. The book, I will tell all of you, is a masterpiece. If any of you out there have a love for art, feather jewelry and bell bottoms, bob Dylan or the electric age of rock n roll, you will love, love, did I mention LOVE this book. Just Kids. Patty Smith. An epic tale that describes an era dripping with genre in it's most beautiful of forms. Pages filled with stories of having lived, and I mean truly lived; witnessing our cultures desperation and desire to break free. It is the true, tell tale story of friendship, art and beauty, war and peace, love and understanding. A dedication, to the music freaks, the dreamers, those who whole heartedly danced at Woodstock, arms waving, dancing through air, feeling the sap of innocence drip mightily off their dirt filled fingernails. The re-creation of a scene, giving a voice to the walls of The Chelsea Hotel or a face to the likes of Andy Warhol and his Nico. A beautifully bold vision of those surrendering their fear, as they put trust into the artists that moved them, allowing themselves to question the overpowering idea of one road leads to everything. This moment in time brought forth a reckoning of the senses, a creative conundrum of possibility surrounded by the lives of artists and musicians like Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, The Doors, Jefferson Airplane. This is inspiration in it's truest of forms. So to you Miss Patti Smith, thank you. You have brought me back, head dizzy with excitement, encouraging me to feel inspired again. And god I do. I so so do. And on the rodeo goes my friends....the mellow hum and honey of Dylans voice echoing off my walls and the tap tap tap of my words a blazing.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Me, myself and I.
I am an architect. We all are. I create the life I lead, sketching a layout with detailed precision. I was only recently given this wisdom, by my mother. There we sat, one afternoon going over the jibber jabber that is my life and I mentioned that if nothing else, I would welcome and embrace some ease in my life. I just feel sometimes that my destiny and the life I have lead is an overgrown field. Yes, the colors are rich and boisterous and filled with cartwheels, but none the less, incredibly overgrown. Although I am responsible and grounded, I am not a grass is mowed kind of individual. And because of this, the weeds grow high and can be extremely overwhelming and difficult to cut through. As I explained my "need for a lawnmower" theory, my mother sat, patiently, listening. And then, the words spilled out onto the table and splish splashed their way into my waiting ear. "Laura, you chose this path. It is you. If your path were a straight line you would be bored to tears. Whether you realize it or not, you wouldn't have your life any other way." Hmmmm. Is it possible that my mother is right? Is it possible that she might know me better than I know myself? And as quickly as these questions popped in to my mind, they were answered. Yes. And mom, here it comes.....you are so right. It's amazing what helpful insight from people can do for you. An overwhelming sense of relief comes over you, well it did for me anyway. In that brief moment of introspection I finally finally finally...... forgave myself. I have been in "Laura get your life together" purgatory for years. Why is my path so jagged? Why do I desire change so frequently? Why am I never settled? Why do my ideas race through my head like a fleet of wild horses? Answer: Because it's just who you are. I am who I am, and although I feel that self improvement is key and will never stop trying to better myself, I deserve to give my soul a break. So, with that being said, it is with a full heart, that I now give myself a great big bear hug every morning, put my safari pants on and go explore through the weeds......smiling, thankful, and completely entertained. Never a dull moment in my overgrown garden. Thanks mom.
Friday, April 8, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
White. Blanco. Weiss. Blanche. Bianco.
I've been taken into custody. I was handcuffed and interrogated for my undying loyalty to the "it's actually not a color" color. I'm in a dark dingy room smelling of color confessions and debilitated individualism. But not to worry, I'm as calm as can be. I will not be bullied for my love of the vacant, vast empty beauty that is WHITE. Instead I embrace it, wrap my arms around it and boldly stand against those who believe that white is.....dare I say it....... boring. Boring.....I have tried to rid this word from my vocabulary for years. How could white be boring? How could any color be boring for that matter? I even stand behind Maroon. I have too. I will not discriminate against any color, even if it does in fact remind me of silk pajama pants....and not in a good way. Of course this is strictly a matter of opinion and to those who are Maroon groupies I do thoroughly apologize. And since we are on the subject of apologies and color I would like to take a moment and also apologize to all the poor souls who were subjected to my chestnut brown hair color choice circa 2007. I realize now, my pale skin is NOT a canvas for experimental dark hair dye. Now back to the subject at hand......WHITE. I was inspired to write this post based on my impatience for spring and of course all the things that make living worth while such as..... warmth, margaritas, sundresses, fresh tomatoes, happiness, sun and swimming pools.....not the indoor kind.....they just aren't the same so to my peanut gallery, stop telling me that I can enjoy swimming in the winter time please, I can't, it's impossible. White is such a a representation of the seasons that I look forward to. It is a fabulous way to bring life to a room that has been hibernating all winter. The coffee stains and thick blankets somehow find their way into hiding, windows are opened and out comes that brilliant crisp and clean color. So put your dark room away, hide the key and bring out the BLANCO! Enjoy.
http://www.findingshibusa.com/ - FABULOUS
http://decorno.blogspot.com/2007/09/more-white-hot-rooms.html - this is a fantastic blog
Monday, March 28, 2011
Wanderlust
I have wanted to explore for years. I have this stir crazy wanderlust that continues to gain momentum each year that passes by. I will unveil myself a bit here and admit that one of my biggest regrets in life is lack of travel. I feel this void. I feel a bit empty that I have never really seen the world, seen different cultures. Its as if there is this giant color wheel, filled with such a magnificent variety and I have only seen a few shades of purple. How boring. I find myself so intrigued by other people's stories of travel, yet envious at the same time. Not only do I want to see the world for my own self exploration but I want the hinges of my "out of the box" box to be oiled and not so rusty. I feel so closed off at times from opportunities and inspiration in other cultures. It frustrates me. Of course I know the answer to my woes, just go for it. Travel. See the world through MY eyes and no one else's. Travel can, at times, be intimidating. But, as much as we sometimes hesitate in the face of NEW, we embrace it too. Some of us crave, thrive, consume all that is unknown, different. My soul is an arrow directly down the middle. I do hesitate at the idea of my comfort zone being compromised , but I have taught myself to push through the fear, breathe and just take it on. An unbelievable freedom takes over when you do.
I know, if I take my adventures someday, I will be overwhelmed by the inspiration I will find, not just in design but in any part of life. The things I could see, bring back with me. The colors, the aesthetic, the linens and fabrics. The architecture and fashion. The plates of colorful food, the markets. The smiles of strangers passing by. The way people move, how they shake hands, embrace and enjoy. People's time spent and time lost. Suns setting, how the wind smells and hits my face or those earthly felt scents of the morning. The love between people, even their hate. Who knows?
I once worked at a accessories boutique where the entire collection sold was inspired by items found around the world. I have always admired the owner, and taken her with me every step of my creative way. She once told me that the beauty she saw throughout her life, traveling and exploring was the sole reason she opened her store. I loved that. She wanted to share. Express her gratitude to the places that defined her. And guess what, she was successful at it. I hope to accomplish what she did at some point in my life. Gain inspiration through a narrow street filled with colorful doorways and window panes or an overwhelming piece of architecture. Indulge in a succulent meal made specifically for me and from only the freshest local ingredients, take in the vast beauty and loneliness of the desert or see the ocean from a different part of the world. And mostly, I hope to feel the overwhelming joy of gaining a new view and adding a few more colors onto my color wheel.
Below is some inspiration from the wonderful places I hope to visit and explore someday. Enjoy!
I know, if I take my adventures someday, I will be overwhelmed by the inspiration I will find, not just in design but in any part of life. The things I could see, bring back with me. The colors, the aesthetic, the linens and fabrics. The architecture and fashion. The plates of colorful food, the markets. The smiles of strangers passing by. The way people move, how they shake hands, embrace and enjoy. People's time spent and time lost. Suns setting, how the wind smells and hits my face or those earthly felt scents of the morning. The love between people, even their hate. Who knows?
I once worked at a accessories boutique where the entire collection sold was inspired by items found around the world. I have always admired the owner, and taken her with me every step of my creative way. She once told me that the beauty she saw throughout her life, traveling and exploring was the sole reason she opened her store. I loved that. She wanted to share. Express her gratitude to the places that defined her. And guess what, she was successful at it. I hope to accomplish what she did at some point in my life. Gain inspiration through a narrow street filled with colorful doorways and window panes or an overwhelming piece of architecture. Indulge in a succulent meal made specifically for me and from only the freshest local ingredients, take in the vast beauty and loneliness of the desert or see the ocean from a different part of the world. And mostly, I hope to feel the overwhelming joy of gaining a new view and adding a few more colors onto my color wheel.
Below is some inspiration from the wonderful places I hope to visit and explore someday. Enjoy!
Thailand
Africa
Greece
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Dirt Poor and Fabulous.
Continuous buzzing. My head today. Ugh. It's a carnival. Rapid thoughts Ferris wheeling their way around, hitting each side and then back again like a fish in a fish bowl. I feel like a Picasso painting.... two heads as one, a nose where a mouth should be, eyes on my forehead. There is a particular kind of beauty in this chaos. So I am going to just accept my head as it is today, in it's kaleidoscope of messiness and just write. So forgive the zig zags.......
I'm an accessories person. I just love them. I really do. They can take any boring, stagnant room and just give it a hell yeah vibe that is so great. I mean even with just a touch, nothing extreme, just a splash of something.... transformation. I just recently did this to my own apartment. I threw a few things here, a few things there, hung a few fab pieces of art and boom.....my home was born. So I'm focusing on cheap accessorizing today because like many of you out there.....I am not of a "hearty" financial standing. I have actually started to convince myself that my bank account might be the first known Black Hole of Internet banking. All of my money is actually being pulled through to another galaxy by some magnetic force unexplainable to mankind. Unfortunately the bank tellers don't share my theory. So until I can prove otherwise, plain and simple.... I'm dirt poor.
But alas followers and design lovers, we will not compromise our needs......our need to decorate, design, create and really L.I.V.E in our own space. Our home is our canvas, well it's mine anyway. And I refuse to give up just because I'm broke. Yes, we are capable of convincing ourselves that a $300 pillow is a necessity. Yes, we are capable of believing that without that lamp shade our whole color scheme will be thrown off and anyone who is aware of such torture would understand and support the purchase. And by god, yes, we are ALL capable of knowing that we will purchase the pricey side table that will fit oh so perfectly in that empty corner because we can no longer live with the harsh continuous scream of desperation "FILL ME! I'M EMPTY! DISPLAY SOMETHING HERE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!"
But you know what? Not having that fabulous expensive designer throw (that I saw in a store window the other day, which costs $400 dollars, that would look absolutely perfect on my gray velvet chair) is not going to kill me. In fact, it might actually make me stronger. Stronger in that I walked away from it. I turned away from that window, lip trembling, mind racing WHY WHY??!, and forced myself to research other, cheaper options. These acts of strength have not only helped my financial black hole but have pleasantly made me realize that this kind of research, is, well, it's just so fun. It really is. You wouldn't believe how many fabulous alternatives there are, if you just take a little time. And I'm telling you, you will get lost in bargain shopping la la land. And like all of you, I adore having a home with style, a direct representation of who I am. And like many of you, I tend to be drawn to the most expensive and obscene anything. But guess what, i can buy without breaking the bank. Or, I can be creative and make my pillows, or distress a cheap armourer on my own. I can shop the bargain bin and do it PROUDLY. So I encourage you, fellow creative comrades, design guru's and those who collapse in the midst of those devil disguised price tags..... to take a field trip from your everyday charge card and go out, stand tall, find the sales, dig through the bargain bins and don't be afraid to get your hands fabulously dirty.
http://thriftydecorchick.blogspot.com/
http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/chicago/roundup/roundup-15-thrifty-frugal-inexpensive-ideas-095961
I'm an accessories person. I just love them. I really do. They can take any boring, stagnant room and just give it a hell yeah vibe that is so great. I mean even with just a touch, nothing extreme, just a splash of something.... transformation. I just recently did this to my own apartment. I threw a few things here, a few things there, hung a few fab pieces of art and boom.....my home was born. So I'm focusing on cheap accessorizing today because like many of you out there.....I am not of a "hearty" financial standing. I have actually started to convince myself that my bank account might be the first known Black Hole of Internet banking. All of my money is actually being pulled through to another galaxy by some magnetic force unexplainable to mankind. Unfortunately the bank tellers don't share my theory. So until I can prove otherwise, plain and simple.... I'm dirt poor.
But alas followers and design lovers, we will not compromise our needs......our need to decorate, design, create and really L.I.V.E in our own space. Our home is our canvas, well it's mine anyway. And I refuse to give up just because I'm broke. Yes, we are capable of convincing ourselves that a $300 pillow is a necessity. Yes, we are capable of believing that without that lamp shade our whole color scheme will be thrown off and anyone who is aware of such torture would understand and support the purchase. And by god, yes, we are ALL capable of knowing that we will purchase the pricey side table that will fit oh so perfectly in that empty corner because we can no longer live with the harsh continuous scream of desperation "FILL ME! I'M EMPTY! DISPLAY SOMETHING HERE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!"
But you know what? Not having that fabulous expensive designer throw (that I saw in a store window the other day, which costs $400 dollars, that would look absolutely perfect on my gray velvet chair) is not going to kill me. In fact, it might actually make me stronger. Stronger in that I walked away from it. I turned away from that window, lip trembling, mind racing WHY WHY??!, and forced myself to research other, cheaper options. These acts of strength have not only helped my financial black hole but have pleasantly made me realize that this kind of research, is, well, it's just so fun. It really is. You wouldn't believe how many fabulous alternatives there are, if you just take a little time. And I'm telling you, you will get lost in bargain shopping la la land. And like all of you, I adore having a home with style, a direct representation of who I am. And like many of you, I tend to be drawn to the most expensive and obscene anything. But guess what, i can buy without breaking the bank. Or, I can be creative and make my pillows, or distress a cheap armourer on my own. I can shop the bargain bin and do it PROUDLY. So I encourage you, fellow creative comrades, design guru's and those who collapse in the midst of those devil disguised price tags..... to take a field trip from your everyday charge card and go out, stand tall, find the sales, dig through the bargain bins and don't be afraid to get your hands fabulously dirty.
http://thriftydecorchick.blogspot.com/
http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/chicago/roundup/roundup-15-thrifty-frugal-inexpensive-ideas-095961
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Photographs and weekend laziness
Weekend. What a great word. I've decided to be extremely productive this weekend. Now productive is a relative term in the world of me. But my intentions are good, so that's what really matters right? The procrastination demon will McGuyver it's way into my brain, setting up permanent camp. This typically happens when i'm drinking my coffee, enjoying the paper and completely relaxed. "Hey, why don't I just stay in for the day. I have a million design magazines and nick knacks to look at, or I could just stare at the wall and think about all the things I could be doing" Yep, it happens more often than not, but not this weekend. This weekend I will march the picket line of productivity and stand firm against procrastination and weekend laziness. What is on the agenda you ask? I will parooze antique stores, I will find linens I can't live without, I will buy a wine decanter that I don't really need but need because it's gorgeous. But most importantly, this weekend marks the beginning of a new creative adventure. I was given an old 35 MM camera from my sister, who I often mention in my posts. She is the cheese to my macaroni when it comes to pushing my creative juices and has always supported my artistic ideas and adventures. So, by giving me the camera, she in turn is expecting some results. I have always loved photography. I think it is such an amazing expression. Mainly because it captures moments that are real. The heart beating, inhale exhale moments in life. It captures emotion that you can't manipulate. It's there, it's real, and it's beautiful. I am typically inspired most by photographs of people. Their faces. The lines, the wrinkles, the crows feet, the pours, the eyes.....glaring with some kind of desire or, some, none at all. It's an interesting thing when a photographer can capture someone's emptiness. I also enjoy the idea, like any form of expression, that it's endless. The possibilities. I love flamboyance in any form, photography can capture that so distinctly.
So, now it is my turn. Have I dabbled in photography before? Yes. Do I feel that I have an eye, a natural view of the world through a lens, no. But, who cares. I used to care, but I don't anymore. I don't care if it's good. I enjoy it so why not? That would be my Buddha on the mountain advice to anyone seeking a creative outlet. Who cares if it sucks. Let it suck! Let it be horribly fabulous. Because in my opinion, anyone who has the courage to put it out there has the soul of the artist.
Friends, family, acquaintances who put it all on the line, move past the fear and believe in that beautiful artist soul of theirs. I feel lucky to be surrounded by so much talent......
http://www.markfernkas.com/
http://www.carriehaasejewelry.com/
http://chrisragalie.info/
http://dolangeiman.com/
So, now it is my turn. Have I dabbled in photography before? Yes. Do I feel that I have an eye, a natural view of the world through a lens, no. But, who cares. I used to care, but I don't anymore. I don't care if it's good. I enjoy it so why not? That would be my Buddha on the mountain advice to anyone seeking a creative outlet. Who cares if it sucks. Let it suck! Let it be horribly fabulous. Because in my opinion, anyone who has the courage to put it out there has the soul of the artist.
Friends, family, acquaintances who put it all on the line, move past the fear and believe in that beautiful artist soul of theirs. I feel lucky to be surrounded by so much talent......
http://www.markfernkas.com/
http://www.carriehaasejewelry.com/
http://chrisragalie.info/
http://dolangeiman.com/
Love this. I really enjoy native american inspired photography. The colors of their culture are so rich.....even in black and white.
Monday, February 21, 2011
"We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams."
I had some extremely colorful and wild dreams this past weekend. I think the term "all over the board" might be a good way to describe them. I dream in color. I'm grateful for that. I'd like to believe it is a representation of my personality. I'd like to believe that my sub conscious thoughts having color and movement, might mean, hopefully, I am a creative soul. Or, unfortunately, it could also mean that I ate too late, and that delicious brownie sundae curbed all thoughts into a spiraling sugar rush that caused all my dreams to flash, disco dance and firework up a storm. Either way, who cares, I had a blast. These dreams also got me thinking. I thought about our imagination. Our dreams. The thoughts that consume us, and for the lucky ones, come out in some artistic form. These thoughts, not only jump started by my adventures while sleeping but also from an article I read Saturday afternoon. While on her honeymoon, my sister purchased a magazine to read over the seemingly decade it takes to fly to Thailand, and upon return was kind enough to pass this magazine on to her curious and always hungry for creative influence sister. The magazine, in it's rich, inspiring and beautiful pages, was called International Design. Among the pages were visions of mid century modern homes, blank canvas filled by designers from all over the world, gorgeous brown leather chairs, upholstered stools and sofas, wallpaper samples that would just melt into a room perfectly if given the chance. A magazine non the less, but anything that turns me on, lights the fire and gets me obsessively frantic about the world and the unique people that live inside it, is a big fat hell yes to in my book, regardless of it's literary social stature. So, as I flipped through, diving into each page, sipping my coffee, I came across one specific article. Now before I divulge into who this article was about, let me ask you......have you ever believed in Witches? Have you ever wondered about Big Friendly Giants? Have you ever believed you could move objects with the pure will of wanting to do so, or I dare ask, have you ever, and I mean ever, eaten off of a Giant Peach? If the answer is yes, then you went along for the ride....as did I......and in a way, i'm still holding on to my handlebars as tight as I can, unwilling to let that my imagination grow old. Whimsical, colorful and full of magic, those are the stories of Roald Dahl. One of my favorite authors, and a fixture in creativity and wonder. The article so delicately touches on who he was, why he was and what he still is even after his death. And on top of it, the article features photos of his writing hut, a place as special as his writings. So below, please take a moment to read a few of his words and take an adventure inside the mind of one of my inspirations. Go on, revisit your childhood.
~L
~L
"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it."
— Roald Dahl
— Roald Dahl
"Matilda said, "Never do anything by halves if you want to get away with it. Be outrageous. Go the whole hog. Make sure everything you do is so completely crazy it's unbelievable..."
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Technicolor Dreamcoat
"We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be.”
— Anne Lamott
I am an individual. I am unique. I am me. These words, these phrases, so easy to put on paper, but to actually mean them is difficult. It's funny, looking back and reflecting on myself as a young child, I never put much thought into "being different", and trying desperately to have a sense of individualism. I was just me, a young, fun, light hearted kid who loved to talk and socialize. And then, as time moved forward, I, along with most children my age, became much more conscious of who I was, where I stood, what I looked like, what I believed. These thoughts, all part of growing and being, can be taken in so many different directions. Some children, take these thoughts, move into their natural process of getting older and cozy up easily to it. Like a perfect puzzle piece, nestling in right next to where it belongs. Although they think about where they stand and who they are, it's not something that consumes them, it just happens naturally. Unfortuantely, for me, it hasn't happened that way. Why? Well, I will admit, yes, I am a free spirit, and taking on that role tends to lead to a bit of chaos and jumbled direction. I will also admit that my decision making on occasion can be a bit....hmmm how do you say it......reactionary??? Aka.....I might, just might, not always think through things before I do them. Now, with this being said, I personally feel that these qualities are good, bad and a little in between. The good is, I have lived. I truly have. I look back on the people I have met, the places I have lived, visited, i'm proud of it. I'm proud of the life i've seen, the beauty, i'm even proud of the lonlienss I have felt while out there. I know it defined me. But then, there comes the bad with that gypsy soul of mine. I am never satisfied. I am in a constant state of what can I do, where can I go, what can I see, who can I be?? You could characterize these questions as a person feeling extremely lost, with no solid base, no where to call themselves "just me". I realize this about myself. I know that the search for who I am, where I stand, what defines me will be a on going battle, probably for my entire life. I realize, as many have, who suffer from this form of wanderlust, to take this search in stride. Take time to figure out what turns me on, what makes me feel. Taking time is difficult for the dreamer. We see, there for we are, and unfortunatley seeing and patiently waiting, thinking, evaluating can seem so stagnent. I know it's what I need to do, and what I have been doing. But, in this beautiful life, I must find my passion. Find me. Turn it in to a career. Take ownership of my dream. I love the creative aspect of this world and what individuals can do with it. How exciting isn't it? I ask you, have you ever just sat back and thought about all the creativity that circulates in this world? All the magnificent ideas in their different forms. It's a phenomenon that i still have trouble wrapping my head around. I want to be a part of it. Find myself in it, and eventually live it. I hope hope I can. I know "me" is there. I know I am truly starting to find myself, my individual, my "I". Thanks for reading this mumbo jumbo.
Now, time for some color inspiration and a few people who seem to have found their own individual, fabulous, creative selves.
Rachel Roy's Bedroom - House Beautiful 11/10
Photo by Isabella Rodriguez
Carolyn Murphy's Home - House and Garden 8/07
Ellen Pompeo's Kitchen - Elle Decor 11/10
Laura Jean Kathleen
— Anne Lamott
I am an individual. I am unique. I am me. These words, these phrases, so easy to put on paper, but to actually mean them is difficult. It's funny, looking back and reflecting on myself as a young child, I never put much thought into "being different", and trying desperately to have a sense of individualism. I was just me, a young, fun, light hearted kid who loved to talk and socialize. And then, as time moved forward, I, along with most children my age, became much more conscious of who I was, where I stood, what I looked like, what I believed. These thoughts, all part of growing and being, can be taken in so many different directions. Some children, take these thoughts, move into their natural process of getting older and cozy up easily to it. Like a perfect puzzle piece, nestling in right next to where it belongs. Although they think about where they stand and who they are, it's not something that consumes them, it just happens naturally. Unfortuantely, for me, it hasn't happened that way. Why? Well, I will admit, yes, I am a free spirit, and taking on that role tends to lead to a bit of chaos and jumbled direction. I will also admit that my decision making on occasion can be a bit....hmmm how do you say it......reactionary??? Aka.....I might, just might, not always think through things before I do them. Now, with this being said, I personally feel that these qualities are good, bad and a little in between. The good is, I have lived. I truly have. I look back on the people I have met, the places I have lived, visited, i'm proud of it. I'm proud of the life i've seen, the beauty, i'm even proud of the lonlienss I have felt while out there. I know it defined me. But then, there comes the bad with that gypsy soul of mine. I am never satisfied. I am in a constant state of what can I do, where can I go, what can I see, who can I be?? You could characterize these questions as a person feeling extremely lost, with no solid base, no where to call themselves "just me". I realize this about myself. I know that the search for who I am, where I stand, what defines me will be a on going battle, probably for my entire life. I realize, as many have, who suffer from this form of wanderlust, to take this search in stride. Take time to figure out what turns me on, what makes me feel. Taking time is difficult for the dreamer. We see, there for we are, and unfortunatley seeing and patiently waiting, thinking, evaluating can seem so stagnent. I know it's what I need to do, and what I have been doing. But, in this beautiful life, I must find my passion. Find me. Turn it in to a career. Take ownership of my dream. I love the creative aspect of this world and what individuals can do with it. How exciting isn't it? I ask you, have you ever just sat back and thought about all the creativity that circulates in this world? All the magnificent ideas in their different forms. It's a phenomenon that i still have trouble wrapping my head around. I want to be a part of it. Find myself in it, and eventually live it. I hope hope I can. I know "me" is there. I know I am truly starting to find myself, my individual, my "I". Thanks for reading this mumbo jumbo.
Now, time for some color inspiration and a few people who seem to have found their own individual, fabulous, creative selves.
Rachel Roy's Bedroom - House Beautiful 11/10
Photo by Isabella Rodriguez
Carolyn Murphy's Home - House and Garden 8/07
Ellen Pompeo's Kitchen - Elle Decor 11/10
Laura Jean Kathleen
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Gray walls and Gusts of wind.
I've had this dream. It's reoccurring. The best way to describe it is a gust of wind, blowing in circles, twisting and twirling images, thoughts, ideas, passion, creativity to and from, which way and that. It's a beautiful color this dream, for as radical and chaotic, it calms me. Like any one's ideas and dreams, at times, it is more prevalent than others.....today it is a tornado. My dream is to have a business. To own something. Something creative. Something that would speak to me, to the public, to anyone and everyone. I have imagined the space. I've imagined deep gray walls and long shelves holding pieces of pottery, vases, pillows and bed linens. I have pictured the wooden tables allowing photography and design books to be mis matched and stacked high. I have pictured my sister and uncles paintings on the walls and other talented local artists. I have pictured old glass cases showcasing my friends jewelry that I love so much. I see lamps with patterned shades and curtains with boho chic prints dripping off the walls like honey. Thoughts of consumers, my consumers, walking over Hyde rugs and holding up of one of kind dishes to picture their table scapes. I hear old vinyl records of artists like Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell and Led Zeppelin echoing off those gorgeous gray walls. And I have pictured myself, standing in the midst of it all,.....happy.
Now, for some gray wall inspiration I found.......
Now, for some gray wall inspiration I found.......
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Thoughts and Atticus Finch.
Since beginning my new blogging adventure a few weeks ago I have now become extremely curious and conscious of other people's blogs. I find it fascinating that my initial idea to blog was to curb my hours of monotonous facebook stalking day after day. I felt a blog would be more creatively conducive for me, for my sanity and let's be honest, my soul. But now, my dear followers, I must confess a new obsession.... blog stalking. I know, I know, I thought I had finally started to dig myself out of the black hole that is facebook, sucking us farther and farther in with each friend request or new picture post, but oh no, the black hole blogging has now begun.
I will say though, my stalking has become a bit more productive since it is truly a search for inspiration as opposed to reading posts about people's mood, their dog, their errands, their dinner and the ever so popular my baby did this today......SO with that being said, with my new blog stalking hobby, I have truly become inspired. So thank you dear blogging friends. My research has now allowed me to revisit a world of possibility that might not have been so colorful before. I am finding how much I do enjoy feeling inspired and how lucky I am to live on a planet with so many people who see art, creativity and well...life in so many fabulously different ways. I love that I am reminded of that now.
I am also realizing how important it is for me to start discovering my creative self again. In my discovering I am hopeful that I can learn to paint a story, photograph a feeling, write a picture, sculpt an idea or give life to a room. Thanks for reading.
Like an old brown comfy leather chair.....
I will say though, my stalking has become a bit more productive since it is truly a search for inspiration as opposed to reading posts about people's mood, their dog, their errands, their dinner and the ever so popular my baby did this today......SO with that being said, with my new blog stalking hobby, I have truly become inspired. So thank you dear blogging friends. My research has now allowed me to revisit a world of possibility that might not have been so colorful before. I am finding how much I do enjoy feeling inspired and how lucky I am to live on a planet with so many people who see art, creativity and well...life in so many fabulously different ways. I love that I am reminded of that now.
I am also realizing how important it is for me to start discovering my creative self again. In my discovering I am hopeful that I can learn to paint a story, photograph a feeling, write a picture, sculpt an idea or give life to a room. Thanks for reading.
Like an old brown comfy leather chair.....
Friday, February 4, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
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