This vintage animal puzzle was last summer’s bounty for wandering into one of my favorite shops, Maison Bergogne, in Narrowsburg, NY. I wasn’t exactly drawn in by the box, so I’m not quite sure why I removed the lid. Needless to say, I was pleased that my curiosity got the better of me. I should know that if something is in Juliette and Anie’s shop, it will likely be special in one way or another. And that taking the time to explore yields many aesthetic rewards. My favorite cards in the puzzle are the ones that have been repaired with a needle and thread. *See the rat and the fox.
Oh, and keep in mind that sometime in early summer, Juliette, along with biz partner Laura Silverman, plan to open bar/cafe Fish & Bicycle.
The importance of nature versus nurture is mostly one for the scientists. However, for myself, the lay person, the question presented itself during a recent visit to my father’s home. You know how family behaviors or environments can be so familiar, to a point of near invisibility? Well, on this particular day, as I was sitting in my father’s study, his desk chair slowly came into focus. I’d looked at it many times before. I’d even sat in it. But never had I taken full stock of its Frankenstein qualities. As you can see, the seat is an assemblage of pillows and straps, all bound together with rope. It’s neither pretty nor comfortable. Although there is an interesting graphic quality to the way in which the rope weaves in and out of the holes. As an industrial designer, one who espouses simplicity and function, as well as comfort, I don’t in any way consider this to be a viable solution to the vexing question of what to sit on while at one’s desk. I’ve pondered the fact that the owner of the chair is indeed my father, and that I am his daughter. Dad, how did this happen?
A recent jaunt to Cooperstown, NY meant that I would finally get a chance to visit the Farmers’ Museum. I’ve been meaning to go there for ages, and was well rewarded for my patience. The museum is located on land that was, and still is, a working farm originally owned by the writer James Fenimore Cooper. Its history goes back to the beginning of the 19th century. The museum comprises a collection of pristine historic buildings, many of which have been relocated from other farms and towns in upstate NY. The architecture is astonishing. These images are taken in the Cornwallville Church which was originally built in 1795 in East Durham, NY. If you’re wondering, the numbers correspond to the church pews.
I pass this logging operation with some degree of regularity. I always want to stop and take photographs, but I tell myself that I’ll do it next time. This happens to me a lot. Well, I finally drove by the other day and then promptly turned around and parked in the dusty lot. One of the owners lumbered (pardon the pun) out to inquire about my presence. A strange woman taking pictures of your recently felled logs is not necessarily a welcome sight in these parts, so I told him I was a designer working on a project about patterns. And would he mind if I snapped a few quick ones. He looked at me as if I were crazy, but then flashed a warm smile and gave me the a-okay. I enjoy the way the timbers are all marked on the ends. But when I see the bigger trees it makes me a little sad. Does anyone know what the notations mean?
No, not the Brooklyn Dodgers. The Hardy Boys. To be clear, this collection of books is not my own. Although I believe we once did have quite a few of them, in addition to many of the Nancy Drew and Bobsey Twins series. I always thought the latter were more insipid and less imaginative than the rest of those adolescent detectives, but they were younger and less experienced, so I’ll let them ride for now. Spotted on a recent trip to Maine, at this wonderful antique store.
Lots of changes afoot here, but will save that for another post.
On a recent trip to Europe, my husband and I missed our early morning connecting flight from Frankfurt to Nice. We had hoped that there would be another plane leaving within a couple of hours, but that was a misguided thought. The next flight wouldn’t leave for another 8 hours or so. Not bad in the scheme of airport delays, but long enough for a kind of boredom to set in. And that was mostly as a result of jet lag. I am one of those people who actually enjoy airports. Between reading and watching fellow travelers pass by, I am happy. Add to that some fancy ductwork and I’m really set. I couldn’t decide if leaving the ceiling exposed was a design decision or whether there were ongoing repairs happening. No matter…
Yesterday’s post (Feb. 5th), today. A mere fraction of all the “Fives” floating about my studio.