Half Of What I Say Is Meaningless

The Swan - A Photo Series

I often lament the distinct lack of photographs of my lovely daughter, she of the blue-grey eyes and the unruly, curly blond locks. She is photogenic, yet terribly unpracticed in front of the camera (third child syndrome at its finest). She generally bolts as soon as she spies a camera in the vicinity, so today I bribed her with some leftover birthday party candy. The venture was moderately successful. 

Here is part one in a photo series chronicling the chairs I have loved and owned, with my fractious daughter perched not so delicately atop. I have about five or six chairs in mind for this project, and I think the series (one photo in each chair) might make an interesting grouping for her bedroom. We shall see if either of us has the necessary endurance.

 

 

I obsessed about the Swan chair for several years, and finally purchased a pair off of ebay (via California) last fall. They are vintage Arne Jacobsen for Fritz Hansen, with signed bases. They had been recently recovered and were in excellent condition considering their approximate forty year age. I may have them reupholstered at a certain point, but the colour works well for now. They eventually will be designated to sit on either side of the marble fireplace in the family room. My love of vintage furniture is unparalleled, I would always choose old over new (everything else being equal, namely condition), but is is often a challenging proposition. Older pieces bring such soul to an interior with their history. I always wonder of the life it led before crossing my threshold.

Arne Jacobsen designed both the Swan and Egg chairs for the SAS Royal Hotel in Copenhagen in 1956. The lines are distinctly mid-century, yet they look modern and fresh in a newly built interior. A couple weeks ago, I had a friend visit and she spied the chairs that had been recently installed. She told me she had the same chair covered in red, in the house she was raised in small town Saskatchewan. She wondered aloud what had become of that chair, and where perhaps she might obtain another. Her attachment to that singular memory was clear. Our objects, particularly those we grow up with are significant, for they hold a small piece of our collective histories. It is indeed OK to love a chair, or perhaps even six.

 

The Kitchen Nook

“I know that my entire design aesthetic stems from my obsession with Mid-Century Modern furniture. I can trace the root of this somewhat pricey addiction to a moment in my youth. At nine years old, on vacation in Vancouver to visit old family friends of my father, it was there that I encountered it. A dining room set looking vaguely like something that dropped directly out of a space pod. The oval top in gleaming white melamine, the seat cushions on the chairs in a bright orange boucle. Little did I know then that it was indeed a vintage Knoll, Eero Saarinen Tulip table, but I was struck at that very moment. Few objects in life have ever captivated me like that table.”

I bought my own Knoll Saarninen table several years back, my first important furniture piece. The glossy carrera marble top rests upon a fluid white base, the lines are stunning. It has remained paired with six Eames DCW chairs by Herman Miller in walnut veneer, and has served as our kitchen table since. Like everyone moving to a new space, I was momentarily concerned that this arrangement would not complement or work within the parameters of the kitchen nook. Yet, I look at it now and could swear the the house magically sprang up around it, the walnut, the marble, and the casual elegance, most certainly an inspiration throughout our home.

 

When I look at the photo, I see beyond what is there, to the meals leisurely shared, the conversations both mundane and profound (at least when Thomas is involved), the endless repetition of the spelling words, the hours of homework. A place where life unfolds. I see a little girl with her feet tucked in behind her, propping her up just high enough to colour her latest masterpiece. It was she who left several large gouges in a couple of the chairs this same way, with the zippers on the ankles of her now retired jeans. There is also the mysterious small chip in the centre of the table, courtesy of one of the boys I imagine. I remind myself that beautiful objects should always be used, and fully savoured, even if that entails some damage along the way. For life with three children necessitates flexibility and certain amount of forgiveness (conveniently overlooking the critical error in judgement in purchasing two white sofas with toddlers).

 

My favourite aspect of this space is the light fixture, perhaps because it is new, but more likely because it is amazing and unexpected. It is the Flos Skygarden Pendant by designed by Marcel Wanders. Looking directly, it appears contemporary, yet sitting beneath it, you are struck by the juxtaposition of old and new. The delicate white plaster interior of flowers and vines and the blown glass diffuser are in direct opposition to the stark black exterior.  And that chip, strategically disguised with the Alessi Blow-up Citrus basket (and at other times, with a container of Sea Monkeys).

 

Relax Don't Do It

Though I risk dating myself, I’m harkening back to my days in elementary school, the last time I was infatuated with all things neon. The memory is inextricably tied to a trip I took to London with my mother, the summer of 1984. One of my most distinct memories was the popularity of the band Frankie Goes to Hollywood, specifically the song Relax. I remember begging my mother for an oversized, slouchy t-shirt emblazoned with “Frankie Says Relax”, completely oblivious to the actual gist of the song at age eleven. My mother swiftly denied that request and instead I placated my fashionable self with a neon pink mesh vest. I thought myself the epitome of style as the neon craze swept the not exactly fashion forward centre of Northern British Columbia over the next year. In that time I sported neon socks, shirts and most memorably a neon pink leather tie. As quickly as the trend appeared, neon seemed to disappear, relegated to the time capsule of the mid-eighties. Or so I thought.

Shades of neon remained decidedly passe, until they emerged everywhere the past few years. Neons, particularly the pinks and yellows feel amazingly fresh and forward in both decor and fashion. I have only adopted the trend myself once with a pair of brown Marni wedge sandals with a band of shocking pink across the top. Now, I am desperate to procure this Givenchy neon yellow necklace below.

Hits of neon also bring bold interest to an interior. That yellow door is beyond amazing. Considering it was difficult enough to convince my husband that all our interior doors would indeed be black, I don’t forsee that trend in our future. So I shall settle for a few accessories. The Alexandra Von Furstenburg lucite console is a piece that shall forever remain in my dreams, as it is far beyond my budget, but the lucite trays would be a lovely compromise. The porcelain vases with the neon interior by Maison Sauvage, one in every colour please.

Images:

1. Kate Spade Tipsy Ballet Flats

2. Givenchy Neon Necklace

3. Christopher Kane Lace Top - Net-a-Porter

4. Balenciaga Spring 2011 Velo

5. Interior - Lucas Allen

6. Stairwell - Kate Spade London Pop-Up Shop

7. Lucite Console and Tray - Alexandra Von Furstenburg

8. Maison Sauvage Neon Vases

 

Not A Nursery

Three children later, and still I lament the fact that I never had the opportunity to decorate a nursery. Space, funds, and finally circumstance dictated that my babies made do with a serviceable change table/dresser combo from IKEA and a dropside crib from Walmart. Three children survived the perils of said crib, which was promptly converted to a toddler bed when the legions of recalls emerged. And they thrived, despite the sparse surroundings, because they were loved. Also, the fact that babies can barely focus eight inches and then can only render an image in black and white, probably helped too.

I thought I might just swing that coveted nursery for Elizabeth, as plans for the new house were drawn while I was still pregnant. Alas, the house project morphed into the house that would take forever to build, and she was nearly three when we finally moved in.  Any thoughts of a nursery were banished and her bedroom would henceforth be known as the room she would eventually grow into, slated to be the first room officially decorated. For a child who had never had her own bedroom, who despised the conversion of crib to toddler bed, the prospect of the new bedroom and an actual bed was the topic of much discussion.  

As I’ve come to learn in both house building and interior design, nothing happens exactly overnight. After much deliberation we ordered this amazing French wingback headboard from Restoration Hardware Kids. My designers, Trevor and Curtis of AtmosphereID deemed that the loose weave linen it came in, would not work in the room and I agreed. We selected a beautiful grey velvet to reupholster the headboard. Of course, the bed was backordered for months. Elizabeth was rejecting the toddler bed and insisting on sleeping with us, keeping me awake with her feet that would migrate and kick me much of the night. Every morning, I longed for that bed to arrive. 

Finally, the bed is here, the majority of the room is complete, save for some draperies and small details. The inspiration for the room was taken from the amazing David Hicks graphic wallpaper, grey and white with just a pop of pink. The grey bedding is from Restoration Hardware Kids, and the pink woven blanket from Missoni Home. I found the adorable grey cushion with the outfits from Famille Summerbelle along with the print of the handcut London map (to remind her of our trip to London last summer, which given her age she has already forgotten, haha). Atmosphere created the custom pink pillows along with the faux fur bolster. The bolster has become a major source of contention in this household, and the two brothers are now clamoring for their own. They steal it, use it as a weapon, and I envision them swinging and breaking the Jonathan Adler sun lamp (that I covet for my room). That poor bolster has been dragged along the floor and has seen more action than a Swiffer in recent weeks.

Elizabeth’s room is now officially the most lovely space in the house. In the process I have quelled any desire for a nursery. She is and always will be the baby, in her decidedly grown-up and sophisticated bedroom.

 

What Remains Constant

I’ve contemplated for ages, the question of my poor neglected blog. Previous half hearted attempted to resume blogging have proven fruitless. Yet, it still lurks there somewhere in the abyss of the internets, reminding me that I should write. How I love to write, and perhaps, that I need to write.

Recently, I did foray back into the blog world with a series of guest posts -  "Tina's House , a client diary on the blog of my amazingly talented interior designers Atmosphere Interior Design. I chronicled the trials and tribulations of our new house build. Hopefully my blog will be in part an extension of that series, allowing me to document the seemingly endless process of decorating said house (seven months later I still have one entirely empty room and more than a couple of unpacked boxes). Where else I may delve, I haven’t as yet formulated a clear picture. Yet, I know there will be a taste of my inspirations, my hobbies, and the people who inhabit my world. 

Hopefully, this renewed effort will yield more incentive to pick up a camera. My three year old has been woefully underrepresented in any sort of documentation, visual or otherwise. I fear that one day she will compare the few random shots of herself on the iPhone to the volumes of images of her brothers. Perhaps it will prove to be character building. 

The world has changed significantly since the inception of my blog in 2005 (digital and otherwise). And in those few years, so too has my life. Yet what remains constant, is the need to share my story.