residential interior
i wanted to repost this story on cuckoo clocks because i got the nicest note from a fellow blogger, koen van der list, who also wrote a piece about modern cuckoos that i'd like to share: cuckooclockonline.com
mr. van der list sourced many other charming clocks you should know about. he is from the netherlands.. a country that has wonderful, whimsical home design and holds a special place in my heart. ENJOY!
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returning to boulder after a month in berkeley is challenging every summer. i get so immersed in my california life that i’m a bit discombobulated when i get back to colorado. i forget my regular routes to places, i mix people up and can’t remember how i know them and generally feel a bit muddled for a while… a sort of travel dementia. this year was tougher than usual because everything was broken when i left and unfortunately, everything was still broken when i returned. my garage remains bent outward from when i bashed it while backing out the day before my trip. the grass in my backyard is all dried up - i DID call the sprinkler guy before leaving and he just didn’t come. (he showed up yesterday and said that a BEAR had chewed a portion of the piping for my sprinklers. i thought maybe it was actually hank, but then i saw a GIANT poop next to the fence. it looks like paul bunyan squatted down in my lilacs - sometimes there is just too much nature in boulder.) the AC in my house is still spotty, despite the AC man “fixing” it before my departure and to top it off, my car wouldn’t start AGAIN! i realize that these are all minor, fixable problems in the grand scheme of things, but it’s taken me longer than usual to get myself sorted and functioning properly.
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i do not like to be physically uncomfortable. when i have a headache, i take an advil. when i am having a baby, i get an epidural (this was no small feat in the netherlands where both of my children were born and 30% of women give birth at home.) i don’t understand people who run marathons or bike a million miles, despite blisters or cramps or just being tired. i only run when my children are headed into traffic or if someone is chasing me with an ax. actually, in my early 20’s, i did run the bay to breakers (san francisco’s 10k) once. between all the bands and the cheering and the popsicles and the costumes and the fact that it was so crowded you couldn’t go very fast, i had a great time. and on the way home, my roommate and i bumped into jerry brown, who was running for president at the time - but was not accompanied by any entourage or body guards - and he invited us back up to his converted victorian firehouse home that was a few blocks from our apartment for a chat. i ended up volunteering for his campaign and it sparked my interest in politics. overall, it was a pretty amazing day and i thought i had discovered a hidden running talent in myself. two days later, i tried to go running again… but without the entire city cheering me on and handing me treats, i realized that i actually do not like to run at all. i do exercise a bit because i am vain. i take classes at the bar method a couple of times a week - it is air conditioned in there and the teachers are funny and i have a range of strategies for getting through class: i only use the 2 pound weights (perhaps this is why i still have “dinner lady arms” where the bits between your elbow and armpit flap too readily when you wave,) i almost never do the challenges, i go to the bathroom if there is more than ten minutes left for the tummies (if i go earlier, i just really had to go,) i only accidentally take the level 2 classes and i count stuff: boob jobs, filled lips, tattoos and pig tails - you’d be surprised at how many women in their forties still tie their hair up like school girls.)
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i love learning about the histories and adventures of my clients. my goal, as a designer, is to help them create a home that provides a platform for the artifacts, photographs, books and unique objects that represent their experiences in an integrated, personal manner.
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with the approach of father's day, i wanted to repost this piece i wrote about my father-in-law....
my father-in-law was gone too soon. by the time i met him, he had been suffering from parkinson’s for nearly thirty years. there was still a twinkle in his eye that confirmed all of the stories i had heard about him when he was younger, but i missed knowing him when he looked like ricki ricardo and was celebrated for his violin playing, spontaneous fun, witty humor and dapper dressing. i did, however, get to see the beautifully tailored cashmere coats and suits he left behind. while none of them fit his son quite right, they were too fine and too sentimental to give away. we packed them away carefully and they moved with us to three different apartments and two houses. recently, i found them when i was doing a major post-lice cleaning. i know you don’t have to go through EVERYTHING in your house when your children infect it with lice, but once i get going on the cleaning i tend to get carried away. they were in the back of my sewing closet in an unmarked box. i am no longer married to my father-in-law’s son, so clearly i needed to give the jackets back. but i decided to take the cashmere herringbone coat apart and have it made into two sofa pillows because the fabric was so soft and appealing. after getting the deconstructed jacket cleaned, i had the pieces sewn together into two squares. one square has a pocket showing and the other has the jacket buttons going down the middle. my daughter and i picked out a neutral plaid that has a 60’s era feel and we used that as the backing on these pillows. my one-time husband had forgotten about the jackets and was delighted to have them repurposed and added to his living room…a cozy reminder of his dashing father.
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a few weeks ago, hank ate a cherry chapstick. he didn’t eat the plastic part, but all the waxy stuff inside. we are all still getting used to having a puppy and taking care not to leave things out that aren’t good for him. at the time, i was annoyed at the kids and fascinated by the new sweetness of his breath, but was not overly concerned. i should have been. at 4:30 am the next morning i woke to the sounds of loud slurping. when i managed to get my eyes open, i saw that hank was licking something off my duvet (YES… he has started sleeping in my bed. one night i just meant to have a cuddle with him and i fell asleep before putting him back in the crate and now his new spot seems established.) i couldn’t understand what he was eating and then i came to the horrifying realization that he was re-ingesting his own VOMIT! i am not great with bodily stuff and it was all i could do not to throw up myself. i scooped him up and took him outside for some fresh air. then i brushed his little teeth and had him drink some water. he seemed okay and i thought it was a “one off” situation like my children sometimes had as babies. we went back upstairs, i replaced the blanket and we both went back to sleep. and then at 6 am he did it AGAIN! this time, i was much swifter. i picked him up before he could eat it and quarantined him in the bathtub. he was not best pleased with this situation, but i could not let him roam around my house barfing. i was already faced with laundering two duvets and their covers. luckily, the vet opened at 7 am so hank didn’t have to stay in the tub too long. the doctors were a bit surprised that i brought him in… apparently dogs eat weird things and throw up all the time, but i have never had one before and was worried he would get dehydrated… he is such a little guy. we both went home to rest and do laundry - you wouldn’t believe all the feathers flying around my drier from the duvets! hank spent most of the day sleeping and i thought it was over. unfortunately, i had a date that night with someone new and i could not get a single sentence out without yawning (so rude!) because i was so tired. it didn’t really matter as it turned out this guy had THREE cats. that was definitely a deal breaker… i am now a dog person, even a barfing dog person.
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nearly a month ago, i was browsing in the delightfully curated cedar and hyde shop in downtown boulder. i was completely charmed by a collection of whimsical, stoneware vases, each with three little feet, displayed there. they came in different sizes and resembled women in the waddly stage of pregnancy when everything is protruding and feels surprising and unbalanced. each zaftig piece was unique, as is each child-bearing mother. the vases were textured in a way that held the glaze in various degrees of intensity. they had a soft, organic, earthy feel and i spent a good while comparing the bulges, patterns and characters of each vessel.
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when we moved from amsterdam to boulder, our cuckoo clock came too. he never really got over the jet lag… he still pops out of his house and sings and flaps his wings each hour, it’s just rarely the correct amount of cuckoos. and turning the clock forward and back for daylight savings hasn’t helped him one bit. but we love him anyway. we know that when he cuckoos at 8 o’clock in the morning (no matter how many times he chirps) it is time to leave for school. he reminds us when it’s time to go bed as well… also at 8 o’clock.
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i moved to amsterdam when i was three months pregnant with my first child. i had never spent any time there and like many americans, i associated the netherlands with wooden shoes, tulips, marijauna “coffee shops” and the red light district. i was leaving behind my family, my pacific ocean and my super-fun job styling the windows for banana republic. the whole move happened so quickly i barely had time to process what i was getting myself into and what i was going to do with myself when i got there, besides being pregnant. one of my favorite work friends suggested i start styling the red light windows. i could rework them every season with different themes like we did at banana and dress the women in something beyond tiny, white bikinis that glow iridescent in the intense red lights.
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for this kalmia home, we wanted to create engaging, flexible spaces that work for entertaining both large and small groups, as well as encouraging cozy, intimate family time. in the larger living room we left the persian rug relatively free of furniture pieces so that the intricate, colorful design could be appreciated. the burnt reds and teals of the carpet and the morroccan floor cushion add warmth and dimension to the expansive space. we scattered several ottomans around the room that are easily moveable to allow for a variety of seating and social arrangements.
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we got our new puppy, hank, just over a month ago. even though it was december, his first few weeks in boulder, colorado were pretty temperate. he was potty trained fairly quickly as he loves running and sniffing around in the backyard and would just do his business in the midst of his exploring. (except at other people’s houses - so sorry liz, bette, anne marie and adam!) one night, however, we were both caught off guard when we came downstairs for a 2 am potty and the whole back lawn was covered in snow. after delicately tapping one front paw in the icy whiteness, he made a beeline back into the house without making his potty. luckily, one lounge chair had been left out, so there was a two foot square of grass free of snow. that is the only place hank would potty until the snow melted. and i would have to carry him over the snow to that spot. when he was safely back inside, he would run right to the big sheepskin rug and recuperate from his trials of exposure to the snow.
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my father-in-law was gone too soon. by the time i met him, he had been suffering from parkinson’s for nearly thirty years. there was still a twinkle in his eye that confirmed all of the stories i had heard about him when he was younger, but i missed knowing him when he looked like ricki ricardo and was celebrated for his violin playing, spontaneous fun, witty humor and dapper dressing. i did, however, get to see the beautifully tailored cashmere coats and suits he left behind. while none of them fit his son quite right, they were too fine and too sentimental to give away. we packed them away carefully and they moved with us to three different apartments and two houses. recently, i found them when i was doing a major post-lice cleaning. i know you don’t have to go through EVERYTHING in your house when your children infect it with lice, but once i get going on the cleaning i tend to get carried away. they were in the back of my sewing closet in an unmarked box. i am no longer married to my father-in-law’s son, so clearly i needed to give the jackets back. but i decided to take the cashmere herringbone coat apart and have it made into two sofa pillows because the fabric was so soft and appealing. after getting the deconstructed jacket cleaned, i had the pieces sewn together into two squares. one square has a pocket showing and the other has the jacket buttons going down the middle. my daughter and i picked out a neutral plaid that has a 60’s era feel and we used that as the backing on these pillows. my one-time husband had forgotten about the jackets and was delighted to have them repurposed and added to his living room…a cozy reminder of his dashing father.
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around the time that my younger brother started kindergarten, my mother decided she needed a creative outlet of her own, beyond meatloaf and bedtime stories. i remember coming home to find the downstairs bathtub filled with long, skinny sticks soaking in water to soften them so my mother could make baskets. there was also the collage period when the dining room table was covered in colored bits of paper from my mother’s art class. eventually, she volunteered to help make a raffle quilt to raise money for our elementary school. and that, i think, sealed the deal.
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many of us have frustrating memories of trying to hang a photo or a piece of art and making a big, dusty hole in the wall that isn’t even in the right place. it’s stressful trying to figure out how far below the top of the frame the wire hanger is and how to get your piece centered correctly. generally, i don’t like drilling holes in my walls because it feels like such a big commitment. and for those of us who aren’t that adept with power tools, there is a strong possibility of disaster. i’m sure this process has caused a lot of strife and swearing in homes across america.
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my grandmother crocheted doilies that she laid on various surfaces: armrests, table tops, dressers, vanities… there were lots of doilies! recently, my mother was cleaning out her linen closet and passed along several large needlework pieces, some cloth napkins with crocheted edging, and a couple of dolly dresses. we are not sure who created what, but these handwork selections certainly remind me of my grandmother and her doilied house. i decided to take one of the circular doilies and sew it onto a big, inexpensive canvas from michaels with some hot pink ribbon i had leftover from my daughter’s birth announcements. it only took a couple of hours (i know this because i was watching elizabeth taylor in cleopatra as i did it. wow - was she gorgeous, while marc antony was such a disappointing whiner.) the doily creates lovely shadows and is more interesting to me as a wall piece, than on a table top. i think the handmade crochet work adds warmth and coziness to my modern house. i framed the dolly dresses in simple IKEA shadow box frames and put them on the shelves in the kids’ playroom. i love having small pieces of my grandmother (or auntie or someone) scattered around my house, adding depth and history.
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i created my first photo wall when i became a mother. we were living abroad and we did not have any family near. i wanted my baby son to recognize and be familiar with both his living family members and those who came before him. we called it “the family museum.” we would stand in front of the different photos and tell stories about the people represented. he couldn’t believe that a picture of his father and grandfather standing together was not actually a photo of him and his own daddy (despite the red velvet overall shorts and knee highs his father was wearing.) he found it hilarious that i was ever a baby or that his grandma could have been a little girl. we traced his green eyes back to his oma and later, my daughter’s one dimple to her paternal great grandmother. we laughed about big midwestern bonnets from the 30’s and grandpa’s pants from the 70’s. the photo wall was a treasured prompt and reference for family stories and has been recreated and updated in each of our homes.
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