Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Crafting with Living Materials



"Botanical Specimen," Direct Positive Photogenic Drawing
William Henry Fox Talbot, 1840
Digital Image Courtesy of the Getty Open Content Program

*This post contains affiliate links, which allow me to earn a small commission if you click through to purchase a product.

Hello friends,

A little under two weeks ago I had the opportunity to take a winter flower crown workshop at the Lemon Bowl (a shared art work space in D.C.) with the aptly named Holley of Sill Life.  Instead of springy blooms we worked with the often less appreciated, but in my opinion more beautiful, greenery of the winter season.  This included fragrant juniper, fir and pine cut directly off the branch to form lush fairy tale headpieces.  Holley also taught us how to work with succulents, which are some incredibly hardy little troopers.





In addition to the wintry, old world aesthetic these materials created, using succulents and winter greens offered the benefit of making our crowns long-lasting.  This meant they would remain available for wear throughout all the numerous holiday shindigs at which us Washingtonians inevitably must make an appearance.  I, in fact, left the workshop directly for a friend's holiday party with my freshly assembled flower crown atop my head and a second crown in tow as a hostess gift - one which my friend promptly informed me was perhaps the most unique gift she'd ever received.





A flower crown as festive acoutrement to a holiday party refreshment table

For me, the crowning glory (heh heh see what I did there?) was the berries that grew on the juniper branches.  Ever since discovering custom milliner Fleur de Paris on Royal Street in New Orleans a few years ago (yes, such things do still exist!) and seeing the way they decorated their hats with all kinds of lovely flora other than the standard, frou-frou flowers, I got hooked on the idea of berries as a means of floral decoration.  I love them on hats, in floral arrangements, you name it.  So I made sure that my crown was bursting with juniper berries.


Other attendees of the class added their own personal touches as well.  While I opted for a simple hoop that reached around my head, some of the ladies added nymph-like whimsy with the attachment of green velvet ribbon ties.



Prior to taking this class it had never occurred to me to use living materials in crafts (aside from the obvious floral arrangements, which I had never really previously thought of as crafting).  Their mortality always struck me as an obvious deterrent.  But then again, that mortality is highly linked to the concept of seasonality, and seasonality, it seems, is what lends crafts such as fairytale winter flower crowns their wistful loveliness.  After all, isn't this how our ancestors adorned themselves and everything around them, with the materials they saw out in nature?  Isn't it that very connectedness to natural cycles that we have lost with the advent of modernity, mechanization and the permanence of materials like plastic, steel and the ever dreaded non-biodegradable styrofoam?

Is it important for the crafts we make to be permanent?  I imagine that those who engage in the spiritual practice of making and destroying sand mandalas would tell us no and that, in fact, it's the impermanence of the mandala that lends it its beauty.




So with that I've begun thinking about what other crafts might incorporate more living flora.  I already knew from the flower crown workshop that Holley also teaches terrarium building classes in D.C.  Wreaths also come to mind.  And, in the past, I'd always been intrigued by Ikebana, the Japanese art of flower arranging.






A photo posted by Ana Takahashi (@anataenlared) on





I was also aware, through one of my relentless Instagram clicking downspirals, of the website Flora Forager, where botanical artist Bridget Beth Collins creates what amount to impermanent bas reliefs with various vegetation she's collected and uses them to produce the most magnificent photographic prints.






I then looked to Pinterest for home decor inspiration and discovered these variations on the living wall concept:




Pinterest was also a plethora of ideas for resin jewelry with real pressed flowers:







And for those of us who like a traditional booklet of ideas to leaf through, rather than clicking haphazardly on pins, there are also a number of books out there full of instructions on bringing the outdoors in:





How about you, readers? Have you ever completed or wanted to complete a project incorporating living materials? Discuss in the comments.

Emily

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

The Fantasy of a Beautiful Work Space

"A Painter's Studio," Louis-Leopold Boilly, c. 1800
Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art Open Access Program

Hello friends,

One of my great "realistic fantasies" is to eventually be able to afford a home in which I can create a separate art space.  Really, all that means is a two-bedroom apartment.  But right now, as D.C. is the third most expensive city in the country with housing prices to match, it's hard to find so much as a studio apartment that is near the Metro, in a safe neighborhood, relatively well maintained and bedbug free for under $1500 a month (and it's easy to find them for much, much more).

Having lived on my own in small spaces before, I have seen how quickly all my clothing and art supplies add up to an apartment that resembles a walk-in closet more so than a living space.  Forget entertaining. Forget even breathing.

I've solved the problem by living with roommates.  And while that enables me to live in a much larger, much prettier apartment than I could ever afford on my own, my need to be considerate heavily constrains the degree to which I can really use the ample space in my apartment to make art. Those of you who are makers know that in addition to being messy, art sometimes requires you to spread out.  To cover every surface at times. To cover the walls sometimes.  And to leave your projects and your supplies out, sometimes for days on end.

Personally, I'd love to be able to leave my supplies out indefinitely.  It would save the time and effort of constantly taking things out and putting them away again, time and effort that could actually go into making things.  And the ability to set a project aside for a while but still have it be visible so I can ponder it is invaluable.

So my bedroom has started taking on that closet-chic vibe from back when I lived by myself.  My desk is a workshop for creating journals and printed cards. The top of my dresser?  A perfume-mixing station.  The back of my closet door hosts four baskets full of yarn.  My actual closets are home to bin and box after bin and box of completed knitting projects, Mod Podge, rice papers, embroidery thread, yards of various fabrics, gemstone beads, pillow stuffing, beeswax pellets, shipping supplies, business cards for my Etsy shop, card stock, faux flowers, empty perfume vials, millinery trimmings and one double boiler.  This is to say nothing of the yarn baskets that have simply become part of the "souk-themed decor" in our living room, much to the chagrin of my cohabitants.
Aforementioned "Souk-Themed Decor"

My kingdom for a two-bedroom apartment!  And, not gonna lie, a back yard would be nice.  Is this really so much to ask?

It occurs to me that if I were a much gutsier person than I am, and much better at saving and budgeting, I could just quit my job and move.  I could go somewhere more rural and with a much lower cost of living, rent or buy a modest 2 or 3 bedroom house with a yard and a scenic drive up from the road and a wooded landscape...Not only would I have plenty of naturally-lit studio space, I'd also have a veritable Instagrammer's playground with which to promote my creative offerings, whatever they may be, on social media.  And I could eat food from my very own garden.

But this would require such a shocking change in lifestyle, and I'd be all on my own with no support network, at least not at first.  And though the cost of living would be much lower, I'd still need a stable source of income.  Would my creative pursuits be sufficient to support me after the first few months living off savings?  Would I be able to find a job outside of a city - a hard thing to do these days, which is why so many of us live in cities despite the very lack of space I'm using this post to lament - that lets me strike the right balance between working elsewhere for benefits and income and while having plenty of time left to dedicate to my creative business (whatever that may be - don't forget this fantasy also lacks the crucial element of a sound business model).

Anyway, until such time as I'm able to save the money I'd need to go buy, apparently, an entire ranch, I need to think more realistically about what little changes I can implement right now to make my workspace more, well...workable.  If I can use a Pinterest hack to reorganize my purses with nothing but a curtain rod and some S hooks from Target, certainly I can hack my yarn.  And the giant metal cone I bought for hammering metal bracelets and used all of once.  And my blockprinting supplies. And my acrylic paints.

"A Farm in the Sunlight," Meindert Hobbema, 1668
Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art Open Access Program
So I ran quick searches for "workspace" and "workspace hacks" on Instagram and Pinterest and, rather than finding helpful ideas, I mainly found images that were just people showing off how lovely their workspaces appeared when featured in heavily edited photographs.  The closest image I could find to anything realistically achievable in my current apartment is this:

A photo posted by Naina Singla (@nainasingla) on


Desk in a closet. Something about this seems so familiar.

Guess I'll have to keep pondering.  There does seem to be some promise in shared workspaces, such as DC's own Lemon Bowl, which I will be discussing at greater length in future blog posts.

What say you, readers?  Have any helpful thoughts on workspaces that I might be able to implement, or relatable experiences to share? Feel free to use the comments.  

Emily

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Maiden Post

"View of Bozen with a Painter," Jules Coignet, 1837
Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art Open Access Program


Hello friends,

As a busy career professional living an urban lifestyle in the Washington D.C. area, it isn't always easy to incorporate creativity and art into my everyday life.  I fantasize about one day switching to a creative career, but with today's economic constraints and so many different possible directions to take, all daunting, and plenty of student loan debt already over my head, it's a very hard leap to make. I find myself always dabbling, never jumping.

This blog is an attempt to document the process by which I eventually (or don't) find my way into the creative space, whether through a balance with my current career path or by achieving a new path entirely.  I seek to share my experiences with likeminded others, to forge a community of sorts...maybe to pep talk myself into making my fantasy creative life into a reality?  They say that journaling our intentions can often be the first step toward a more tangible goal.  We shall see.

If you are like me, working an office 9-to-5 (and a part time gig on top of that!) while secretly longing for something more creative - to launch your own clothing line, or to open a bakery, or to life coach, or to become a full time painter, or to purchase an alpaca farm and make the world's loveliest sweaters from your own homespun yarn, or to start a band, or... -  feel free to comment and introduce yourself.  Or, if you've made the transition already, or are in the process, please share how you did it!

Emily