braille bird mobile, photo by Chloé Douglas

A few days ago while browsing Pinterest, I ran across the stunning image (below) of “The Little Prince” in braille. The charm of the original book is in part due to its simplicity. But in braille, it is even more pared down, more evocative of innocence. And yet at the same time, it is also more textured, more sculptural, more dimensional.

Contemplating this and other braille items made me realize how biased those of us with sight can be towards this powerful sense. In effect blinded by our vision, we may overlook how much the other senses – touch, smell, etc. –  play a part in how we perceive things. Sight is great, but truly memorable experiences happen in the round, when multiple senses are engaged.

The power of braille then, is that it quite literally invites the touch. Bridging the distance between oneself and the object, it seeks a more intimate encounter, which requires one to be truly present. Opening all the senses; it excites the imagination. Leading to an experience that is all the more fulfilling.

above: left to right: “The Little Prince” in braille via the Civic Library “Nicholas Cuneo” in Camogli, Braille Rubik’s Cube designed by Konstantin Datz, braille tea pot

above left to right: braille cups, braille soap by Arianna Vanini, braille embroidery via Fluffbuff

US Atlas for the Blind from 1837, via Kottke

above: vintage Swiss watch with braille, Chapoutier Châteauneuf-du-Pape wine label with braille, Moon Type – the first widely-used practical reading alphabet for the blind, developed in the 1860’s by William Moon

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/scenes-from-thanksgiving-table/ http://designskool.net/scenes-from-thanksgiving-table/#comments Fri, 25 Nov 2011 15:59:51 +0000 http://designskool.net/?p=10449

Food, and its accompanying tableware, are some of my favorite decorative accents. So any holiday involving a feast tops my list. The bounty of colors and the warm palette of food, the glint of candles and silver, and the cheer of friends and family make for a most welcoming home. And that’s really the point of it all, isn’t it?

set for the feast

centerpiece in detail (There are those privet berries again…)

pass the turkey

Skoal!

Solvi helps herself to seconds (In case you are really paying attention, the hair cut is by Olie.)

a little quail

a breather before dessert

pies made by me (Yes, I had all three!)

Oliver’s favorite part of the meal – blowing out the candles!

Meet my new favorite house plant. Remember these from when you were a kid? Obviously I got this little venus fly trap for my kids. But now I think I like Flyzy (the kids named her) just as much as they do. First of all she’s fun. But she’s also great looking. (She has to be a “she,” right? With Venus in her name.)

It may surprise you to know, given how often I feature flowers, that I consider house plants to be one of the greatest design challenges – house plants and good lighting. Orchids are Ok, but so overdone and obvious. Succulents are good – sculptural and interesting – and I do love a vibrant green moss. But for the most part, all those plants with their waxy green leaves leave me cold. Thus, heretofore, the only permanent plants in my house were a cycad and my struggling but beloved purple oxalis. Too bad because plants really are healthy.

Ergo, I’m quite happy with the unexpected discovery of little Flyzy. I think her slightly sinister, acid green stems are perfect with my porcelain Takashimaya tea cup. And I just love her tendrils. They look like Medusa’s eyelashes, beautiful but deadly. I can kinda respect that in a girl.

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.

Nothing beats nasturtiums against a blue/gray wall.

I fear I may have left out my urban friends with my recent laundry al fresco post. So sorry. Here are a few inspirations for the indoor wash. They’re so natural, you’ll feel like you’re outside!

Above: laundry rack made from wooden dowels and jute twine by Christine at Citypix. (Photo used with permission of the artist.)

birch ironing board from Willow and Stone (via Remodelista). Just think of all the all the money you could save on dry cleaning!

cedar clothes drying rack from Garden Trading (via Remodelista)

My Cape Cod Clothes Line Last Week

Let’s take a moment to talk laundry. For me, a New Englander, nine months of the year it’s pure drudgery. But every summer when the warm sun and soft breeze invite line drying, it becomes less of a chore. In fact, it actually inspires!

Of course the benefits of drying the wash outside are numerous: it saves energy, the clothes feel fresher, smell better and are easier to fold. Sure, it takes longer to hang them on the line, but it’s sooo much more rewarding than throwing them in the dryer. Why? I find it slows me down. It makes me actually experience this menial task, making it less of a chore. Instead of a plastic thingy, I cart my Cape laundry in an antique, cedar basket which squeaks a bit when I carry it. If I have more items than the line can hold, I take out my vintage, wooden, folding rack which looks quite adorable with the kids’ wash on it. In fact, when you pay attention, there’s kind of an art to it. And once you pay attention, you notice all kinds of things.

Like how dynamic laundry on the line is. It reacts to light and air – taking on dramatic back lighting or reflecting the setting sun; fluttering hypnotically in a light breeze or flapping violently in a gale. It dresses itself in dappled shadows from the leaves and branches above or casts playful silhouettes of its own. And of course, it changes with every load – sometimes complementing, sometimes in contrast to the things around it. Some days I have zen whites, others cheery brights, but always it alters the mood in my yard.

It amazes me that some people think that clothes lines are ugly. I have to believe that those who think so are not really seeing the wash on the line. Perhaps they are locked in some idea of perfection – that somehow laundry doesn’t fit with their carefully manicured lawns. (Or maybe their neighbors really do have hideous sheets.) But I like clothes lines. And it turns out I’m not the only one. Just look at how laundry-on-the-line has inspired some of my flickr friends from around the world, and see if you too don’t start to see it in a whole new light.

Breezy by Kristin at Maine Momma, a wonderful photography/life journal that you should absolutely check out.

Clothes Line L’Amélie by Natalie Squire

Traditional Laundry, Malaysia, by Arthur Cha

Laundry, Netherlands, by Bianca de Blok

Havana Laundry by Vampire Black Cat.

Laundry Day by A River Runs Through It

© All Rights Reserved. All above photos used with permission of the artists.

Dorothy Perkins Roses (stolen from my grandmother’s house).

When I was a little girl, my grandmother taught me how to steal. Not anything that actually might be missed by the owners. No, what I was after were blooms from the vacant homes of summer residents. And thus began my love of flowers.

Ironically, I’m now one of those summer residents. A few years ago I bought the cottage right across the street from my grandparents’ year-round home. In the summers when we come down, I enjoy nothing more than to pick and arrange flowers for my home, just as Gramma and I used to do. (Even in the winter I make sure to have something fresh inside, even if it’s just a sprig of spruce.) I love the transient nature of flowers. How they continue to bloom and change once picked, never looking the same as the day before. How they capture and play with the light. And the smell! The other night as I was writing about Jill Bent’s cottage from my own summer home, the aroma from the porch honeysuckle was intoxicating. It made me feel very lucky.

A simple mantel with honeysuckle.
I recently repainted this room and so had to take everything off the mantel. I’m not putting it back.

Leaf, air bubbles

New Dawn in the bathroom.
Remember this picture? Same place, same kind of flowers, same vase. Different year.

It’s almost sculptural.

Proliferation over the porch.

They even grew over the roof this year!

I get tired of looking at gorgeous homes. Don’t get me wrong, initially perfectly appointed, expertly decorated and intellectually conceived spaces engage me. But after a time, if I can’t get a sense of the life that occurs in a home, my senses go numb, and I stop responding. So for me, a well designed home is one that provides another window into the lives’ of the people living there, a.k.a. it has a soul. It is this sense of story that I find truly riveting.

A house that demonstrates this concept beautifully is Amy Johnson’s family home. It’s not perfect, in fact it is always “in process.” But by its very nature of not being static, it is intriguing. Because I can sense the life unveiling there day by day, to me it is endlessly fascinating.

Amy lives in this 1920s crafts style bungalow just outside of Philadelphia with her “Jack-of-all-trades” husband, Chris, and their two adorable daughters, Hannah and Norah. They bought the home 12 years ago, and have been fixing it up ever since. A nature buff and avid gardener, Amy loves bringing the outdoors in, and for that matter, cultivating an amazing outdoor space. (She writes every week for a beautiful and inspiring garden blog, Tend.) Her friends call Amy’s style “woodsy mod,” a mixture of clean, simple, contemporary with natural elements collected on family walks and travels. Flea market finds, DIY projects and a “creative family” contribute to the unique character of the home and help keep costs down.

But I probably didn’t need to tell you any of this. If you look at the pictures of Amy’s home, all the above and more is evident… in the photos of fresh baked biscuits, in newly picked bouquets, a bath, a laugh. In short, Amy’s home is a 3-D visual of her life. And much like her garden, it has different seasons and incarnations. It produces a different bounty depending on what’s put into it. It changes and grows with the family that lives in it.

biscuits and jam

kitchen corner.
Danish fish platter is from a local thrift shop. (Similar one found here.) Dish towel is from Terrain. Hooks are from Ikea.

The bath. Vintage quilt is from a house sale.

Morning!

homemade rhubarb soda.
In the background is a 1950’s magic chef stove salvaged from Chris’s cousin. It’s perfect with the homey wainscoting on the walls.

baskets and bowls

freshly harvested strawberries from a local farm

The garden

“living table”

flights of fancy in the morning. Bird decals are from Blik.

View from the living room into the kitchen. Vintage baskets are all from thrift stores. Danish modern vases are from Etsy.

Mushrooms. Print by Nikki McClure.

Christmas living room.
Even though it’s now spring, I added this photo from last Christmas, because I though it demonstrated how wonderfully fresh and green Amy’s house is all year.

My kind of briefcase!

You can follow more of Amy’s life and loves on her blog: My Home Grown and at Tend.

All photos copyright Amy Johnson. Used with her permission.