Isis can now enjoy daily tea in her new marimekko tea pot which sits atop a collection of journals in the living room

Whenever I feature someone’s home, I try to figure out why the space intrigues me. What is it, in particular, that I’m responding to? With Isis Sturtewagen‘s house in Alphen aan den Rijn, The Netherlands, it was hard to identify just one theme. Was it her bold and striking use of lights and darks? Her unabashed application of pink (a color this former tom-boy is still shy about)? Her ambient vignettes? Prolific flowers? Or maybe the mouthwatering meals she makes?.. Perhaps it is all of the above.

You may remember Isis from the lovely lavender and roseberry Christmas wreath and handmade hearts that I featured before the holidays. Isis is a very creative person, who learned a lot from her mother, “an artist, a great cook and a real jack of all trades.” Isis got her first sewing machine when she was five, was crocheting at 6, and knitting soon after. “Making things has become a part of who I am. I can’t imagine myself without it,” she admits. Isis now creates things for her shop, Thé Dansant, which she shares with her sister. And conjures quite a bit for her home as well.

With such creativity embedded in her soul, Isis naturally treats her house as an avenue of self expression, but also a source of inspiration. Any browse through her blog or flickr account and one can see that she continually responds to and is informed by her home. Whether she is creating a sumptuous meal in pink casseroles that mirror her kitchen stool, or photographing her bed in chiaroscuro black and white one week, dusty rose the next, Isis never appears to be lazy about her space. Which is not to say that her home is never messy. But even if it is, Isis will notice how the light hitting the rumpled sheets creates a lovely dappled pattern or discover that her drying dishes compliment each other in an unexpected way.

And then there is the constant play with the myriad elements in her home. Isis and her partner, “Mr. B.,” did take on the task of renovating their kitchen. But even on a smaller scale, it seems that Isis changes something every day. Mixing her favored eclectic objects – modern and vintage, rustic and industrial – seems a constant source of joy for Isis.

In the end what is so inspiring about Isis’s home is that it is a study in moments, a celebration of transient beauty. I read somewhere that Isis described herself as a perfectionist. I prefer to think of her as highly intentional. Her’s is a daily exercise in being “present” in your home. Treating it as a conscious extension of yourself so that everything you do in it – working, cooking, living – appears not as distinct exercises, but as part of a whole. In short, the life lived in it does not take away from the interior style; it adds to it.

The new kitchen which Isis and Mr. B remodeled themselves replacing yellow walls, brown particle board cabinets, and “three different types of tiles” to create a much fresher feel. Isis and Mr. B also ripped up carpet in the entire place and painted the wooden floors underneath. They painted all the walls and woodwork as well.

makings of a beautiful dessert: the kitchen, the original fruit, and the final product

kitchen details and breakfast muffins

a living room corner with details

bedroom and living room details show how adept Isis is at layering textures to create an inviting feel

the rumpled bedroom looks cosy and snug

inside as well as out, Isis’s garden receives much love and gives much back in return

dark corners in the office and living room dramatically offset lighter elements

dining room details that highlight Isis’ eclectic style

dining room details celebrating ephemeral moments at home: a bouquet at a work table and the passing light

All rights reserved. Photos by Isis Sturtewagen used with her permission. 

]]> http://designskool.net/isis-sturtewagen/feed/ 6 http://designskool.net/monday-serendipity/ http://designskool.net/monday-serendipity/#comments Mon, 14 Nov 2011 15:27:39 +0000 http://designskool.net/?p=10098

Some of my favorite design principles are: serendipity, meaning, and randomness. If, on a macrocosmic level, good design is about perspective and proportions and balance, then on a microcosmic level these variables of accident, personal history, and chance make all the difference. For it is with these factors that personality enters the design picture. Because they happen as a result of your unique life experiences, they are what make your home truly yours. Thus I wanted to share with you three design moments that illustrate these concepts.

When my brother was little – about 6 – he made an amazing sculpture out of sea grass and infamously dubbed it the “hanger donger.” So delicate, beautiful and rare it was, that my mother and aunt fought vigorously over the right to display it – until my mother pulled parental rank. It actually lasted a surprisingly long time on our dining room wall. Thus the name “hang donger” became vernacular in our family. So when Solvi presented me with the shell and sea grass installation above, it had to become “hang donger II.” It is precious to me because she made it, but also because of the memories it evokes.

Last Christmas my aunts and I all ordered paper wreaths from Sadiie A. (You can see it in situ here.) She very kindly also sent these adorable walnut shell boats as a little extra. We put them away for the kids to sail in summer, but then forgot about them, until my aunt rediscovered them this fall. With their walnut hulls and leafy sails, this nutty regatta is actually the perfect autumnal accent for the bathroom. I love the way they “float” on the shelf horizon. (Sorry kids.)

This minute picture is of my aunt Sheila as a baby. My grandmother originally had it in a locket, but when I was a child, I stole it for my doll house. Now my 3-year-old daughter has that same doll house, but she is as likely to mess it up as arrange anything. Thus this picture became dislodged from the doll house wall and started floating around our “real” house. After a few near misses with the vacuum cleaner, I decided that the design fates were telling me to find a new place for it. I just stuck it on the bathroom mirror, where I rather like it. To me this one tiny image contains a wealth of associations across the generations, fond memories, and even some secrets.

Stories like these make for a truly rich design experience. And the beauty of these details is that I didn’t have to think long and hard over them. There was no painstaking rearranging or Fung shui considerations. They happened naturally, guided by emotions and a sense of whimsy, almost by accident.

You know how once something enters your conscience it’s suddenly everywhere, and you wonder how you ever missed it before? This weekend was like that with bugs. Yesterday’s yield of multi-pedal friends was simply staggering. Outside in the glorious weather the kids found: spiders, grasshoppers, butterflies, wooly caterpillars, potato bugs, a millipede and even a semi-dormant toad.

With all this insect activity, it wasn’t long before I started noticing how great bugs are inside too. Not just sculptures or art, but real insects. But not live one’s, rather their remains and artifacts.

The first incident of discovery happened yesterday. The internet was down in my cottage, so I made it over to Aunt Stephanie and Jessie’s to send some emails. When I entered the house, I was greeted by the stunning vision of the sun streaming through this honeycomb. With all the promise of sweet warmth, it’s the perfect complement for a kitchen window. Then today, my son found this “faerie wing.” The gossamer pattern of the dragon fly’s wing is breathtaking. I love how the real thing echos the artist’s rending in my bathroom.

I can’t help but think that the universe is trying to tell me something with all this insect serendipity. That there is beauty in everything, even pesky bugs. How design is so much more than man-made objects. That the inside is always enhanced by the out. But mostly I see how Nature takes great care to render even the most practical things beautiful. In Her designs function and form are equals.

Newly discovered on a random web search, these ingenious coat hangers immediately caught my eye. They’re the inspiration of German designer Dirk Landauer, who believes that “good design means achieving a maximum added value with minimal resources.” Made of birch and steel wire, their form is reminiscent of early wooden hangers, but with a decidedly modern twist. Hang just one as an unconventional accent or group them to make a sculptural installation.

You can check out the entire line of hangers by Landauer at Design Spray.

the September wild flower triple threat: pokeberries, goldenrod and privet berries (my purple oxalis is in the background)

My longtime readers know, one of my favorite things to do is pick fresh bouquets from nature. September is one of my favorite times for flower foraging because fall blooms are so wild and woolly. Plus this is the start of berry season in New England. My absolute favorites are pokeberries – the aubergine guys you see below with the fuchsia stems, and privet berries, which are bright green in September but turn a beautiful eggplant once the privet leaves fall off in November. And of course there’s the ubiquitous goldenrod (or “feathery goldenrod” as my kids call it).

close-up of pokeberries. especially thrilling with their lime green leaves

the wild bouquet picked by myself and my daughter, Solvi. Admittedly, I might have gone to the supermarket in search of some deep oranges to fully flesh out this enemble. But that would have tainted the special memory of my 3-year-old daughter wrestling with the entire bouquet (she insisted) as we wandered the woods.

Honestly the first week of school has made it hard to blog about beauty. As we transition from our simple summer life, all the paperwork, provisioning, scheduling, Board meetings, endless laundry, unpacking and organizing, all on top of working has left me feeling like a whirling dervish of chaos. I am not beautiful. My surroundings are a mess!

But throughout the week, I keep coming back to these few images I shot in our cottage last weekend. Much like my “rock on the stairs” photos, these tiny moments of gray-scale – where the light hit things just right – are surprisingly peaceful. Looking at them makes me feel a bit more centered and calm.

It’s a little lesson: small instances like these, where the ordinary takes on a bit of the extraordinary, often go unnoticed in our hectic lives, especially here in our too often “bigger is better” American culture. But I find that it is exactly these intensely focussed moments that see me through the bedlam to eras more orderly. As long as I can still take time to notice that God is, indeed, in the details, I know there’s hope.

Leaf-Its, Ginko

As a child Korean designer Sangwoo Nam delighted in the small pleasures of nature in his own back yard. But as adults he noticed, we tend to loose our connection with Mother Earth, much to our detriment. Appree Design is Nam’s attempt to bring some of nature’s inspirations back into the concrete world of the corporate office, with organically inspired small objects that celebrate Nature’s most unassuming moments of beauty.

More creative and fun than pale yellow squares, Appree’s leaf-its are also a much lovelier way to leave notes and place marks. Available in original tree leaves, maple, ginko, and soon to be released winter leaves.

Leaf Its, Maple

Reminiscent of Asian paintings of misty mountains, Appree’s Forest Bookends celebrate our fleeting glimpses of Nature’s creatures. On one side a shy doe peeks out of the bushes, while on the other only the closest inspection reveals a resting fawn.

Despite Kleenex’s best efforts with boxes, tissues rarely ever achieve any level design sophistication. Until now. More like an origami blossom, Appree’s Flower Tissue Box makes art of the most utilitarian of objects.

Original Leaf-Its

Water Drop Magnets – because almost nothing is more simply beautiful than drop of water

Sprout Magnets (prototype)

Leaf-It Installation at Martino Design in Bologna, Italy

I find this picture so hauntingly beautiful that I almost don’t want to write anything about it for fear my words would fall short. It is of a simple stone placed almost haphazardly on the steep stairs at my Aunt Sheila’s house.

To me it’s like poetry, a haiku, more evocative than representational. It is the celebration of an instant in time, in which a single element captured by the sun makes a big statement in the architectural landscape. It’s a lesson in the poignancy of the merest detail. A lecture in light. An exercise in how even the most fleeting moments of beauty can be the most powerful.

After a week spent in woodlands by the sea, I’ve become newly inspired by this country’s northern coasts. The tall pines and mossy forest floors as well as the rocky, driftwood-strewn shores of the Pacific Northwest and Maine are strikingly similar. Both are a testament to the drama of textures, forms, and colors that can exist in places where nature has been left more or less untamed. It’s a quiet grandeur wherein a single tidal pool can be as moving as the view from the highest mountain.

Above are some “souvenirs,” inspirations from my trip: “Underwater Silence,” fine art photography print by JK Photography; “Driftwood Assemblage” by Amy Lou Gieschen; vintage canvas directors chair from This Other Thing; Soft Sculpture “Mermaid’s Purse & Baby Skate” by Fog and Swell; ceramic beach pottery from Lake House Beach Glass. For more, see my treasury, Woodland and Tide.

Nothing beats nasturtiums against a blue/gray wall.