Design Studio: progress report

Here's what my studio looked like at 4:47 pm. Most of the things that used to litter the floor have been removed. Now, I don't want you to get too overwhelmed by my talents, but not everyone knows that I am an experienced carpet remover. It's not just that I'm experienced at it...I'm damn good at it. Which is so fortunate since I have not only my studio carpet to remove, but in the very near future I have the living room carpet to remove, and then at some rather hazy time in the future my office carpet must also be removed.

Before I show you the progress I made today, I would like to share a very revealing photo to you. I want you to know what disgusting interesting things lurk around in my house. My menfolk collect peculiar things. Look closely at that garage window sill. I include this picture merely to give you an idea of the scale...

...of this dusty dead vile creature. This is not the first time I have discovered nasty dead things in my house unexpectedly. It's a good thing I don't have any anxieties or anything. Because if I did I might find it extra distressing to be living in the same house with a possum carcass. Now, it's been a long time since I lived freely with roaches, so maybe my memory is a little hazy, but doesn't this look an awful like like a cockroach? If it is, I can't help but wonder if Philip saved this one from our first apartment together in San Francisco.

Here we are then... peeling the oatmeal plush carpet away as though it was light as air and as accommodating as a cloud of cool whip. For most people, negotiating carpet off of the floor and out of the house is a rather burdensome awkward as ass kind of job, but not for me. You know, removing this carpet would have been a mite more satisfying if I got to uncover a beautifully worn hardwood floor.

I think carpet padding is really creepy. I don't like touching it or being near it. But a woman cannot shirk her work. Is it necessary for all carpet padding to be this loud unsavory blue color? Is this to keep us from trying to eat it?

You may not know the history of carpet tacking...originally a medieval torture device it was invented in the 1200's by a very angry wife who needed a way to punish her spouse for bathing more often than is seemly and thus shaming her amongst their more appropriately pungent friends. She invented these narrow strips of nail shot wood to spank him with. Ouch.

No, but seriously, if you have not gotten up close and personal with carpet tacking and tried to remove it without puncturing yourself five hundred times, you are missing out on a real treat of a challenge.

These are the tools I use for this job. See the subflooring I have revealed? On seeing it up close and personal I have decided that no amount of paint is going to really improve it. So I've made an exploratory trip to Lowe's in search of alternatives. The only thing I can both afford and also be capable of installing myself are those sticky backed tiles that Armstrong makes. Yeah, I can tell you right now that I will have those tiles peeling up and curling in no time at all.

As with virtually every house project, removing something in your house reveals the ugly truth. It tells stories about your abode you may not want to hear. Such as the fact that water has gotten into your cozy home and blackened the plywood where the nails have been soaking. Not good. There are watermarks all along the inside of the sliding door.

Here is my mounting pile of carpet tacking. This room is not unlike a mine field at the moment. An unwary child or dog could get very messed up in there.

I'm tired.

Summer Rain

It's raining here which is wonderful and unexpected (to me). It smells delicious out there and all my thirsty starved rhodies are feeling the love. Max does not agree to coloring in coloring books very often, but when he agrees, I always color in this coloring book that my friend Sharon gave to me to give to my little friend Sophie. I never gave it to Sophie because it is the best coloring book I've ever had. The illustrations are wonderful and the pattern mixing on the kimonos and interesting "western" outfits is exactly what I have always loved to do myself.

It occurred to me while coloring this morning that I might be best off choosing a color palette from the pictures I've already done. The ones I've colored can also be framed as a little eye treat in my studio. I have some Michael Miller fabric of little Chinese girls which would go well with an Asian theme. Although any traditional Chinese or Japanese people would be horrified to be paired together eternally in my studio.

I don't actually normally have a big appetite for Asian culture or food. I like Chinese food well enough, but Japanese food includes an awful lot of sea weed and fish, both of which make me hurl. The choices that don't include these things is tempura (which I love) but which doesn't agree with my stomach. I happen to really love Asian people and my favorite place to hang out when I lived in San Francisco was China Town, but even so, Chinese art, Chinese decorating and traditions aren't super high on my list of inspirations.

Though, while I'm writing this I'm realizing that that it isn't entirely true. Perhaps I should say that Japanese culture doesn't hold special appeal to me because I am a brash, outspoken, uncouth, person immune to the niceties of gentle company and manners. Japanese culture seems to revolve around reticence, delicate beauty, exquisite manners and an appreciation for the single object of beauty. I am the opposite of all these things. The simple, the single, the delicate is for more subtle people than me. If one orchid is gorgeous in a little vase, I generally want to see a huge vase exploding with them. I like bold splashes of color, exuberant floral displays, and when it comes to manners, I think of myself as being a fairly polite person but very forthright and not a single drop of reticence.

In Japanese culture I would be unwelcome off-note.

But what occurs to me now is that when it comes to Chinese people, I feel more at home. They also observe more social rules than your average American of western heritage, but there is no holding back in Chinese decorating, in Chinese fashion, or speaking their minds. One of my favorite people on this planet is my close friend named Cam who is Chinese American and what I love about her is her honesty, her humor, her work ethic (incredible), and her ability to answer this question:

"So, all the older Chinese women I've ever met look like they just yanked things out of their closets with a blindfold on and smell like mothballs...is it my imagination that this is a cultural phenomenon?"

...without getting the slightest bit offended. There is no way I could fail to love a person who can answer such candid questions about her cultural back ground with the same degree of honesty in which the question was asked. And she gives as good as she gets. She's a firecracker and a brilliant designer.

We were design assistants at Mulberry Neckwear together. There was a designer we worked with named Xiaoye who I also loved a great deal who came from Beijing. I started learning some Chinese words and felt most at home working with Cam and Xiaoye because neither of them played office politics and worked their asses off as a team to get things done without bad attitudes as some of our other coworkers had.

Anyway, this all reminds me that I do find myself connecting with Asian culture I just don't necessarily connect with it visually. Still, I find I want to look at the pictures I've colored in this coloring book all the time. The paint chips in the first picture represent the colors I had settled on for my studio. The orange color was going to be the walls, the pink color was going to be the floor, the green was going to be an accent color used in the closet and picked up in a few other places like the curtains.

But now I'm unsure again. Now I want to use turquoise with that cool green and have pink accents as shown in the second picture. As you can see, I'm not doing subtle. How to choose though? I usually don't have a problem knowing what I want. But when it comes to color I find myself constantly undecided because there are a million different possibilities to be explored and I have such a hunger to surround myself with color, it's a lot like going to the grocery store on an empty stomach.

Today I work on emptying the studio out. Now that Future Girl has mentioned keeping the desk I am rethinking it. Mostly because I'm not sure what's behind it and if the paneling doesn't go all the way behind the desk then I will be faced with either matching the paneling before painting or ripping the rest of the paneling off which sounds really hard and unpleasant. However, I have planned on using my old Deco dining room furniture in there and there probably won't be room if I leave the desk.

Untouched Specimen

Now that the apron project is almost behind me... (I thought I was going to be able to say "completely" behind me, but I just now realized I have neglected to send a bio of myself. I hate writing them because I always sound like I left half my brain on my pillow.)... Anyway, now that I have ALMOST finished the apron project, I must focus my dwindling energies on revamping my "studio". Right now my studio is one of the 1970's add-on bedrooms which is completely covered in wood paneling and built in features like this desk.

The pervading feeling in the room is one of a deep brown study. As in, it will put me in a permanent depressive state if I spend time in there. The desk is coming out!

Wood paneling on walls is one of my least favorite design features. In fact, it's an emotional nightmare. Interestingly, Max, who lives in the other 1970's add-on bedroom, has declined my offer to paint the paneling a more cheerful hue. He likes it just the way it is, he says. He has the same built in desk.

That's a view of the closet. I do like the shelves in there. But even the closet is paneled inside. I suppose the idea is a kind of rustic cabin look?

Ah. The blinds. Papery-fabric strips of beige. I already dislike blinds. Most blinds. (With only a few exceptions.) But this kind is in a little category all it's own: DESIGNED BY SATAN. (Just kidding. I don't actually believe in Satan.)

So there it is. Oh yes, and oatmeal colored plush carpet. Don't forget the oatmeal plush carpet. It's going to take a Herculean effort to re-do this room. Think I can do it? You will pass out in fear when you see the colors I've chosen. Nope, not turquoise and red. As great as the temptation was, I felt it was time for something wild and fresh. The great thing about paint, obviously, is how relatively easy it is to change if you make a dreadful mistake.

I will refer back to these pictures as I progress to reassure myself that I'm making good changes. And by the way, if Ken or Betty is reading this: it's no offense to you that I can't abide this room as it is for my studio space. What was fresh and interesting and timely for you to design for a living space in the 1970's is a painful trek backwards in my life to a time I have yet to embrace aesthetically. It's a generational thing. So don't be offended, OK? I give you leave to faint in horror at the sight of what it looks like when it's done. My blessings.

Between the trenches

I am having a lot of trouble keeping myself organized enough to make the store move. My mom is helping out by listing our furniture on Craig's list. I don't understand how come more people haven't been banging on the store doors to get in and shop, doesn't everyone love a sale? Especially a really good one. Why is it that when we have a sale, (with signs hugely posted in our windows, the door, and also all over the store) people don't get more excited? Are we putting out the wrong vibe. Are there vibes radiating from our store that go something like "these people aren't serious about their sale...move on...move on...."?*

Anyway. It just means I have more stuff to move. Don't want to move more stuff. Must sell the furniture that's not coming home with me. I can only hope that Craig's List will do it's magic for us. Because if it doesn't, I'm going to have to conclude that unlike other people, no matter how collectible or valuable my things are, something in the Universe refuses to let me make a single cent off of my discards. I'm the kind of person who could spend all day trying to sell my cool stuff cheap at a garage sale and end up making five dollars.

I consider this a curse. This is why I never try to sell my discards. I just donate it to the Good Will. But this time I am motivated by the lack of money in our accounts and the lack of jobs which underlines the slim bottom line. We can pay July's bills, and then, we're up shit creek. So if you are an editor in need of a new daring columnist willing to pay a salary, will you please stop dilly dallying and give me the damn job already?!

I got a storage unit yesterday for all the back stock for the on-line store. I opted not to get a large storage space because I decided that I 'm not moving furniture into it. It must sell. My mom immediately gets freaked in the inimitable urgent way she does and told me it won't be big enough. Too bad. Too bad. It has to be.

She's really trying to help me out in this whole transition and I need it. She picked up tile samples for my studio. I was thinking I might like Mexican tiles in there. (They didn't have any because this is Yamhill County). After she made the effort to do this and bring a couple of samples home for me, I realized that I can't afford to put tiles in there anyway. No matter how ugly the carpet is (and it's ugly-though not as ugly as orange shag would be) I can't afford new flooring. Here's what I can afford: paint, curtains, and demolition of the ugly built in 1970's desk. But only if I do it all myself. That's it. This is remodel on a budget of nothing.

I'm going to admit here that I am filling up with pictures of us all holding up cardboard signs asking for food in front of Walmart since that's where most of America is spending their money for total crap. I used to always assume that I could find a good job, or that Philip could. After two years of Philip not finding employment with anyone besides ourselves, I have less faith now. I'm finally really feeling the panic of this depressed economy. How will we ever make a living again? Philip has been getting lots of free-lance work but it's a lot of work and not coming close to paying the bills yet. I don't trust that it will, either.

It's kind of weird planning to set up my design studio at home again while not knowing if I will have to put my house up for sale in a month or two. I'm so tired of not having the tiniest bit of security.

While all this dire uncertainty is dogging me, milestones are being reached. I am getting included in a book for the first time in my life which feels like the beginning of something; the post with the announcement about my being included in the book got the most number of comments for one post that I've ever received; yesterday marks the first time the traffic at my blog has reached over two hundred visits in one day (and only 50 of those were me!); and I finally have the material for a whole book.

Can one write a book while pan handling? Do agents ever sign up homeless people?

So if you all have any prayers left for non-religious people after all the knee bending you've been doing for the truly deserving such as all the orphans and widow of the senseless war, and all the people already on the streets starving to death, and all the people losing their homes because the economy has been plunged into a deep depression from which only the very rich will come out alright, then please, if there's any prayer left in you: could you pray that my furniture sells so that we can pay a few more bills and not have to move them or give them away for free?

Thanks.

*Incidentally, this also brings up the question of why almost no one from our mailing list has come to get great merchandise for 40% off. And why all these people who come in and express how sorry they are to see us go didn't spend more money in our store and why they aren't shopping for the sale? It makes their words meaningless. The reason we are closing is because all these sad sacks didn't love our store enough to spend money in it, just to make me feel bad for taking away their browsing fun.

I feel betrayed. Except by a few very loyal and supportive customers who always came to us to buy presents and I will treasure them forever: Louise, Susan, and Carol!!!! Lots of love for you guys.

Design Studio Tour

But first, let me distract you with photos of the 1940's blouse I made from a vintage pattern. That button hole is hand-knotted by yours truly. If I was a different person I would conceal the real reason for having taken such tremendous pains (a lack of button hole technology) and let you think I made all my buttonholes by hand for the pure joy of going blind for detail. Hand knotting a button hole is something I think most people hope not to have to do, but I take pleasure in knowing that if an apocalypse were to occur, I would not be reduced to letting all my shirts flap open in the breeze just because there's no electricity: I can make a button hole in all circumstances.

Very handy skill for a Victorian too.

It's fortunate for me that I got so fat because this shirt is white. You may not immediately apprehend the blessing in this. I will therefor paint a pretty little picture: Angelina is a woman of many talents; eating salad without splashing dressing on herself is not one of them. Coupled with her inability to keep whites white in her laundry, there could be only one fate for this pretty little blouse had she been able to continue to wear it over the years: YELLOWY DOOM.

This portion of the Design Studio Tour has been brought to you by the charming Vintage Wardrobe Project being brought to life by Bitter Betty. This segment is meant to give your eye sweet memories that will linger in your cornea for the duration of the tour.

A couple of things have come to my attention in the blog world lately:

An abundance of cupcakes are being baked all across the world and I have gotten to eat none of them. They are uncanny in their ability to show up absolutely everywhere, just like religious groups do, only tastier I imagine.

Everyone but me has written a book, is in a book, has read a book, or is looking at a book their best friend wrote right this minute. I just want to say damn you all WELL DONE EVERYONE.

Everyone is showing off their gorgeous studios and since I am every bit the design prodigy as Alicia, Heather, and Whats-er-bucket over at Inside a black apple, I really feel you all deserve a little look-see into my den of magic. But please, don't be intimidated by my professional space. I want to inspire you, not make you feel like an insignificant slob. So please, come in, don't take your shoes off and make yourself a gin and tonic cup of wholesome tea while I show you around the studio:

This is looking right into the magic space, the inspired decorating can be attributed to all the time I spent apprenticing in the decorating department of --------(the name is too elite to share here). You'll notice a lot of wood tone in my space which I chose for it's aura of deep calm and meditative surface, you know, cause looking at wood is a little like sitting in a forest full of trees, the only difference being that now they're all dead. Which partly contributes to the deep calm of my creative space.

But no one can truly create without a little anger and power. That's why we asked the land lords to paint the red color. I find I work at my best when I feel like a bull in a calm forest being flagged by a matador that I can only see out of the corner of my eye. It brings out the passion in my work.

I like to mix antiques (preferably roughed up by a move or two) with my trash creative debris. You'll notice in the left hand corner of the photo that I have artfully draped a table cloth of red and black to look like it just happened to be thrown down in that spot and forgotten... I enjoy a little faux chaos.

I think it makes people feel a little more at ease in my august presence when they can see evidence that I am a mere mortal, like them, which is why I like to leave some thread and serger scraps on my table. I also leave thread out for the same effect. It has a very calming effect on people.

There have been a lot of shots of tidy shelves recently on blogs showing "creative spaces" (whatever), but I find that I work better when I can't find things. It stirs the emotional creative pallet to bring up ideas that would otherwise be stifled by neatly folded felt.

I think leaving piles of semi-folded projects on top of precarious surfaces such as garment racks adds a kind of racy element to my studio, like: this is a place where ANYTHING can happen. It has an architectural appeal as well. I wouldn't be surprised to find that the Guggenheim was designed after seeing piles similar to this.

And lastly, here is a shot of life as it truly is. Yes, folks, I hide nothing from you. Nothing. I am not ashamed to be a human who eats take out and drinks lattes. That's why we haven't set up a trash service for our store yet. We want to keep things real around here. With so many (two) artists and writers around here, it would be easy to lose ourselves in ego-soaked air. But we keep it real.

I hope you enjoyed this tour. Always remember: You can have what I have, it just takes a little less effort.