There is nothing about this Prim Whale Pull Toy that I don’t love. All the little bits and pieces that have become its creation DNA have their own story. I discovered the wool at a local fiber studio located in a one room school house that made me green with envy. The button that became the most perfect all seeing eye has been in my stash for years. I was always certain that one fine day this one lonely button would find its purpose, and it certainly finally did. The wheels are made from antique spools. I especially always love a project that Dave and I work on together and we had great fun putting our heads together to figure mechanics, design, and materials. We rummaged through our growing debris pile as we made repairs to our old farmhouse to salvage the perfect rustic wood to give form and function.
We thought that when we left MA we left our beloved Vintage Bazaar behind, but wouldn’t you know it?? –They followed us to our new locale. Still a bit of a hike for us, but Devon, her talent, and her crew are so phenomenal it’s worth the effort. In honor of a show celebrating the vintage, I offer a vintage challenge—Be there or Be Square!
A few years back my husband found these amazing vintage wallpaper rulers. Of course, he snapped them up even though we had absolutely no idea what we would do with them. They languished a bit. We’d dust them off from time to time. They’d go back in the corner. And then I was decorating my new office. I knew they would look perfect. And as it turns out they are, in more ways than one. That nifty little metal cutting edge turns these beautiful salvaged pieces into an utterly fabulous and tremendously useful magnet board.
Go forth. Salvage and Prosper.
I love it when my work is transformative. If only it were so easy when the project is Me.
On this outing I got stuck in the second stall, rummaging through baskets of vintage linens and napkins. When done there, I only made it two stalls further. He was two rows away by then, though I could still see glimmers of the safety orange sweatshirt he wore specifically to increase his visibility (I get lost easily) .
If I have to lie my life on the line to be able to make something square and true, how on earth do I make a respectable quilt that scoffs at longitude and latitude??
I spend a lot of time rooting through flea markets. Pieces of other people’s live present themselves to me, and I create my own narrative. I wonder if someday one of my pieces will be discovered in a dusty bin in some vendor’s stall waiting for a new story to be told.
We love antiquing. I believe I’ve said that before. Combing through flea market stalls, Craigslist ads, and other local haunts always sucks us in. But it has come to the point that our vintage finds are requiring the same level of management as my stash. Gasp! So it has come to it. We’ve decided to start a Catch and Release program for those wonderful pieces that we just adore, but simply don’t have the right place for in our home. It is sort of like we are acknowledging that it is okay to be a foster home for antiques. Take it in, clean it up, nurture it, and send it back into the world to be enjoyed. Beats a stint in storage in our barn.
As a fiber lover, stash management is always an issue. Everything seems to have such intrinsic value. And that has only been getting worse for me as I’ve been exploring rug hooking and quilting. Every little tiny scrap is suddenly a representative of enormous value. I don’t want to throw anything away. This is especially true when I am working with vintage textiles, rugs, and linens. I love discovering the new life that lies hidden in an old tea towel or tattered rug, repurposing its charm into pillows, purses, and brooches. But what to do with the remains? Those leftover little pieces of antiquity that lie on the cutting table? This has become my personal challenge: find the latent purpose of these remnants of our forebears. They certainly wouldn’t have wasted a scrap, so why should I?
Some things just must be made. You don’t really have a choice. Unlike other pieces that you labor over and bemoan their lack of direction, sometimes a completely unexpected piece demands your attention and won’t let go. And sometimes everything falls right into place for it, too. That’s what happened with my Brevity Journal. From the moment the tattered antique rug arrived in my studio from a flea market outing, I knew what it needed to become.