Archive for the ‘vintage’ Category

SIZE MATTERS

Thursday, June 28th, 2012

BOOM.

This is the biggest cork lamp your face has ever seen.

So big. So beefy. So corky.

So yes, a supersized steroid popping cork tower of a lamp exists and now lives with me. Getting this lamp has taken more than a years worth of persistent needling and negotiating with a local antique type consignment shop. I waited and stalked and waited some more for the lamps price to be slashed down 50% and that still wasn’t the price I was willing to pay. So for the next six months I’d check in and whittle the price down further and further until the poor sellers spirit snapped and this baby came home with me.

I will hunt vintage for years. That’s dedication. Or madness. Or sad.

Speaking of size matters, I’ve slowly been updating the fireplace with a fancy new coat of white paint and now a comically undersized mantel.

Six inch short-cut to failure.

Dammit.

This. Is. Dumb.

I screwed up. After writing down tons of numbers for little projects in my handy notebook, I somehow misread the width needed while at Home Depot and ended up bringing home a chunk of wood six inches shy of what was required.

Dumb.

Now I don’t have the energy to go back and find, cut and re-buy wood, so I’ll be taking a few days to recuperate. Screw you mantel.

Having this screw up time to live with the white might actually be for the best since I’m not sure I even like the white?

Then I do. Then I don’t. Then I’m like ugh, more paint? No. Yes. No.

I’m about 50/50.

Whatever. BIG LAMP. I like that crazy thing.

COMMITTED

Tuesday, June 5th, 2012

Sighs of relief everyone. The dining room light situation is resolved.

Bubble it is.

Those terrible weeks of baited breath and restless nights are a thing of the past, so feel free to revel in relief as that desperate anxiousness in your heart melts away. Because yes. OH YES. The single most important lighting decision of our time concerning a dining room in a nondescript vintage home in a crappy neighborhood in the armpit of the Inland Empire has been made.

Look at how this lamp can now turn on and illuminate stuff. Stuff like dinner.

Spectacular.

It’s like we finally connected those funny wires that stick out of the ceiling to the funny wires that stick out of the cord in order to fully commit to that good ‘ol ubiquitous Nelson bubble lamp in a dining room thing. And you know what? I love it. Unashamedly.

Goodbye pretensions. Hello thirty six inches of iconic mid century design.

Something feels different here…

Less fibery? More green? Somehow ruggy?

Pointless meandering aside, there’s obviously been a couple of additions and changes in the past few weeks that made the big bubble finally feel like the right choice. Firstly, yes, the amazingly huge fiber art wall hanging has moved (and not very far). Then the crazy grandma plant (or philodendron if you want to get all correct or something) was moved from the bedroom into here for some ‘effing greenery. Finally.

Plants make a room. This truth I live by, but somehow can’t enforce around the house.

Oh, then lastly, I slammed the old living room cowhide rug under the dining table. Rug action in the dining room finally seemed to make sense when paired with the Moroccan rug situation happening in the living room.

This incredible 70′s hand cut paper wall sculpture was a recent thrifty find at a local consignment/antique type shop. I believe I actually gasped out loud when I saw it leaning against the wall and then gasped again when I saw the affordable price.

Huge, handmade, strangely heavy, unsigned and beautiful. I could not love it more.

Reminds me of Greg Copeland for sure, but feels more like a study or experimental piece someone was playing around with.

My once lush and rampantly growing philodendron seems to have gotten a little stressed out after the move. I was hoping to break old patterns of neglect and serial plant killing by being a better and more attentive plant owner, but just ended up over-watering the thing.

Ironically, this baby prefers abuse.

Stupid plants. Make up your minds.

Also, the butterfly’s are back.

I probably should focus on being a better and more attentive blogger. Or on finishing some projects (like painting and fixing up that busted pocket door). Or clearing out some of the piles of vintage stuff laying just outside the cameras frame.

Yeah, this is all an illusion of organized cleanliness. Reality is much more cluttered.

LIGHTING

Monday, May 14th, 2012

Besides fiber art, I’ve also been quietly hoarding a bunch of lighting ever since the dining room chandelier moved onward to a better home. None of the lighting I’ve stumbled on has been perfect and I haven’t been able to find my dream brutalist chandelier – really the closest thing I have found was this Tom Greene for Monteverdi-Young beast of a brass thing that popped up on Craigslist for a very unbrutal price.

On the other side of chandelier spectrum is that shiny 70′s bit of vintage Lightolier chrome which came into my life late one night when I stumbled upon a very neglected and oddly described eBay auction. So? Score.

Oh, these old things?

Yeah. We’ll get to those in a bit.

Anyway, while out and about in Orange County I stumbled on a little vintage shop and left with my very own Auro Glowbal. Yes sir THAT Auro Glowbal. Don’t worry I’ve never heard of it either, but it looks to be a handmade cotton version of those cheap paper lanterns and turned out to be a nice stand-in for the Akari light sculptures that haunt my daydreams.

Bumling to the Sciolari to the Greene.

Name dropping is what I do best and annoys my friends and loved ones much more than you’d expect. Or maybe as much as you’d expect. I can be pretty unbearable.

The Bumling I’ve had for awhile, but the Sciolari is a new acquisition from a little trade I did with Ellen over at Amsterdam Modern. I imagine it will end up in one of the bedrooms? Maybe? I don’t know.

No, I haven’t forgotten the Nelsons.

I swear.

Anyways, we installed the Auro ball thing in the den, but Mr. Lightolier, Mr. Sciolari and Mr. Bumling are all still floating around totally homeless. It feels impossible to decide where they should go.

I have a raging case of decision fatigue.

But at least the glowbal was installed after sitting on the floor for months…and it looks like there’s only this image as proof since someone forgot to take after pictures. That someone being me.

I failed. I’m a failure.

Good thing I overuse instagram.

OK. So, lamps. Once. Twice. Three, no, four times a Nelson.

I was out in LA working with Laure on some photo shoots during the day and then cruising Craigslist at night, per the norm, when I stumbled on a listing for a crap ton of huge bubble lamps. I emailed them, they emailed back, I was so happy and then realized I couldn’t pick them up while doing awesome photo shoot stuff, so I begged Summer to grab them and promised to split the lamp haul between us. The end.

OK, these things are HUGE and I have four and perhaps I dove into this adventure without much of a plan. With nothing to lose I tried out something that initially felt nuts; I tried the saucer.

The Nelson bubble lamp over the dining table thing feels like it might be the biggest cliche around. Classic design icon? For sure. Ubiquitous lighting choice for mid century interiors? Sure.

Despite this obvious snobbery, these lights beefy scale made me curious about how one might look hung up in the dining room. I loosely strung one up (without fully installing) and stepped back to find that, well, I…sort of…liked it.

Now everything I believe in is in shambles.

I can’t decide if this super size saucer works or if a more unusual lighting choice is a better fit. Does large scale forgive ubiquity? Is this becoming a classic design convention? I’m not sure, but it feels kind of nice?

Hold on. There’s one last factor to consider – no big deal – just forgot to mention the amazing custom built dining table coming soon. Boom.

Everything. Shambles.

So this sucker is going to get a little test run until the new table comes and then we’ll see if it should be installed for real. Who knows! The only certainty is that I change my mind constantly.