Because I just love this image. And gypsy caravans fire my imagination, even if all I know of them are myths and tales. I like myths and tales, so I guess that's okay for me.
found via robayre and her pinterest board. I should join pinterest, although if I were to do so, my little small and heartfelt might just go the way of the dinosaurs, since I use this blog as my pinboard.
If only I was not already set to be a witch (not sure if I'm a good witch or a bad witch). Yes, I know a witch is boring and everyone does it. In fact, I do this costume almost every year, as my stand by.
Next year, next year, I will plan ahead and get myself a smart outfit, tweed skirt suit and mary jane heels, a cloche hat. I really want this outfit. And I will carry a book for notes and a magnifying class.
Nolan Haan paints on cinder block walls. I was struck with this message. Sometimes it is so easy to forget that we are part of the human family, struggling together, in our aloneness. Plus I like the contrast of the hard edge wall and graffiti with the soft, spiritual message.
I love this little cottage. It's a tad girly for my tastes, but I love the idea. I love it as a retreat. A place to write and be creative and have peace. I have a dream that someday I might own an old farm, with outbuildings and tiny cottages scattered about, and people would come to stay and write their novel or work on their opus or just get away from it all and find themselves again. Here's a place to sit and read, or to recline with a laptop.
There's also an old beat up trailer on the property, which I kind of like too. Maybe my retreat can have residences of all types, from the fancy girly cottage to the rough and tumble guys trailer. All types of people feel the need to create. Why limit it to only people with your tastes?
I just love this image from Skona Helm, a Swedish magazine. Not that I can read Swedish. Luckily we have googletranslate to mangle it into English. And even better, Automatism, to find the article and make more sense of it.
The thing I love most about this, though, is not the Swedishness of it, or the newness of it, but rather because it reminds me quite forcefully of my parents apartment when I was a little girl. We lived our bohemian, Buddhist, revolutionary artist life on the outskirts of Harlem in the seventies, in an apartment building that was condemned just a few years later.
It looked a lot like this, but with worn wood instead of painted floors. And our sofa, the mattress covered in patterned linens and pillows, sat on a door much like this. It was however propped up on cinder blocks. I think if I were to do this look today, which I might, I think I love it, I prefer the wheels. We even had a table that was much like this one, but again, the pretty wood sat on cinder blocks.
We had photographers lights every where, and paper lanterns. And many photographs, since my dad was a photographer and film maker. But behind the sofa, we had an old granny square afghan, possibly the reason why I hold a fondness for granny square afghans and really, really should finish the one I am working on now.
Loving this shop right now. The carnival/museum/specimen feel of the work is eerie-cool. It's hard to pick a favorite, but as someone who spends most of her time around people, I'm feeling a longing for this solitude print.
The artist is Michelle Knowlen and she also has a blog, here.
Really, I'm a lazy person who prefers to be reclining.
Wouldn't this be a fabulous place to hole up with a laptop to write that novel that I should be working on? Surrounded by notes, jazz playing in the background. Some chocolate not too far away for quick bursts of energy? The kids off somewhere else, far far away while I work. Sigh.
I found this on Piwackett. She actually knows this woman and gets to visit her and sit in that swing. And the other side of the sleeping porch is pretty awesome, too.
The simple dinner party out of doors. A table, some linens, some place settings, some fruit.
A hat, a velvet blazer and a skirt, some boots.
A pretty setting, nothing fancy, out of doors.
Created by Chelsea over at frolic. And here is even more in this story and some instructions of a few details. The funny thing is... I could do this. I have the Autumn yard, surrounded by fall colored leaves, I have a round table I could take out, a table cloth and place settings, a bowl for the fruit. I have blazers and hats and scarves and boots and skirts.
The only element I don't already possess are those cool wine colored chairs.
What I don't possess is the energy to pull it all together.
Is creating something like this worth the energy output? Are the memories good enough to make the work worthwhile?
Am I just too lazy? It might be a nice reward for a job (all that work) well done. It might make for some nice pictures too.
I signed up for this project. It's a global art journal project and in the end, the journals will go on tour and end up in a permanent exhibit in my old home of Brooklyn.
It actually took me a while, like months, because every time I tried to sign up, for some reason, it wouldn't allow me to log on. And every time I saw it online, I would get the urge to sign up again and go to the site and go through the same frustration of being bounced back to the "sign in" page which would not let me sign in, or get a new account because I already had one. I bet I signed up last year on my gmail account and forgot the password.
Anyway, finally, I got smart and used my secondary email to sign up. Then I picked my theme and bought my notebook. My theme is "If you lived here..." which is actually the third or fourth theme I chose, since each time I went back, my previous theme was sold out.
If you want to do something so much that you keep thinking about it, keep having the urge, and keep returning to the same place, it's probably a sign that you should do all you can to make it happen.
Now all I have to do is figure out how to fill this journal.
There's still time. If you want, sign up, journal away.
This book cover was done by Jason Holley. I love it. I love everything on his website, actually.
I am putting him here because I wouldn't mind him illustrating my book cover, when it gets published. (I'm putting that out there as a "when" not an "if" because I just finished the third draft of my novel, and I am gearing up to get it out into the world. Positive thinking, folks.)
Anyway, take a look at his illustrations. Great work, thought provoking, beautiful, chilling, slightly Audubon inspired, slightly graffiti inspired, full of decay and yearning. Me likey.
Also look at his archives. When I get obsessed with something, it gets featured here. I'm obsessed.
I love this living room. Adore those old and shabby leather chairs. I wonder if they are comfortable? They look comfortable. I think they redid the cushions... they are a completely different color than the rest of the chairs, which is part of their charm. And that little side table with its sexy shape, and the bar cart, and the make-do book shelf/bench thing on the side. And don't forget the black and white photos with their grid of frames, and the great industrial looking lamps. All good things in my book.
What a great eye for the find and for the composition. I would love to find some of these things in a thrift store or a yard sale. But the question is... if one FOUND these things, would one recognize them for the gems they are? Would one envision how they could make a space?
These amazing google earth photos of the human impact on the South West Florida Landscape are found here. To me, they look like modern day petroglyphs and I can't help but be dazzled by the graphic look. There's a lot of outrage in the comments, about environmental damage and American wastefulness and American snobbishness, but you know, before I read it, I just went through each photo amazed at the visual drama. What can I say? Sometimes I look for pretty first. Sometimes I see pretty in ugly. Sometimes the story told is more than just about evil or good, sometimes it's just about being human. As well as the evil and the good. This one reminds me of Jess Gonacha Swift's work. This one I think looks like a cave painting or a piece of aboriginal art.
Anyway. They make me want to paint abstracted images. Patterns. Roughed up geometry and organic forms.
I am afraid of tornadoes. I had to spend a few dark hours in a basement with my kids and my neighbor, after I heard the train rumble and a tree fell down knocking out the electricity all over town.
Fine. No one saw an official tornado, but I'm pretty sure that when I was running around trying to close the windows to the wind and rain, and found that ALL the windows had rain blowing in, that meant it was an actual tornado. Plus that train sound. Plus the tree falling and the light going out.
Okay, we were only in the basement for a few minutes before it passed but it was scary.
Oh. What is not scary but in fact fantastic and inspirational?
The above tornado is not real. Nor is it digital. Nor is it an illustration or a painting or any of that.
It is a diorama.
This man is a genius. He does dioramas of all sorts of scenes. From outer space, to glacier chill, to conflagrations, to gentle landscape. Amazing.
I love this cafe. I found it at annekata. She's longing for european cafes, which I totally understand, after my history with Greenwich Village cafes, however... I want to live here. I would love to have this be my living room.
The funny thing is, I was sitting here, perusing my starred items in google reader, and my daughter looked at the picture.
"Two couches!" she said. "I love two couches!"
Then I looked up at my living room, and thought, hey, I totally have room for another, smallish not puffy sofa. And the requisite striped pillows lying about. Good for lounging, and also for fortress making. See? Family friendly. Then I'd be able to get rid of S's hideous pink lounge chair. Yes. Pink.
I should get cracking on the second couch search.
I finally managed to navigate the Polish (?) site and found even more lovely pictures. I think I could work this whole cafe, not just one seating area. Really indulge my bohemian side. Yeah. Bring on the kaffe.