Partially intended for documentation and partially for next year's Christmas cards, I am really, really happy with the results of my labors.
I have simple needs required of my sewing machines: to stitch forward and to stitch backwards.
Studio at 317. Phoenixville.
As I have mused before, I suspect that one's sense of how to construct space is handed down, absorbed even, from those in our lives that shape us. I am no exception to this. In fact, I may be a shining, gleaming example of this.
In our interior lives, how much of our personal aesthetics are born from people that came before us?
Nonna and Jeff’s. Durham. Tweet
I have been musing lately on the construction of home and what it says about the person doing the building of the interior of a house. I see the deliberate (and haphazard) placing of objects as a way to interrupt the inner life of the decorator.
I visit because it feels like home, because there are no expectations of me other than to just be there. It is comfort. It is a haven.
With heavy clouds and muddy soil, I go home.
com⋅fort [kuhm-fert] –verb (used with object) 1. to soothe, console, or reassure; bring cheer to: They tried to comfort her after her loss. 2. to make physically comfortable. –noun 4. relief in affliction; consolation; solace: Her presence was a comfort to him. 5. a feeling of relief or consolation: Her forgiveness afforded him great comfort. 6. a person or thing that gives consolation: She was a great comfort to him. 7. a cause or matter of relief or satisfaction: The patient’s recovery was a comfort to the doctor. 8. a... Read the Rest →