No, this probably won't be a Friday regular, but "my favorite pins on this beautiful friday" is too long a title. I repined three images in close succession and then noticed how much I enjoyed seeing them together with their colors and patterns. Not soon after, it occurred to me what pretty names accompany the images:
Artemis and Nao were my very first features here. Well, the couple with the best name paring ever had a wee one, and her name is just as beautiful as mom's and dad's. I hadn't caught up with their blog for a while, and didn't know Artemis was expecting. What a nice surprise it was to find this beautiful baby girl and Artemis' generous sharing of her journey into motherhood.
It's always so beautiful to watch people shift into parenthood.
I think most of the things we make and do after children come to us are full of their presence in our lives, whether it's detectable to the outside world or not.
Often for families of artists, the crafts become rich with the influence of parenthood (even if they're lacking for it, too) while the children become rich with the art processes. It's a hard balance to strike sometimes. I notice that for a lot of people, the answer seems to be a simple surrendering and shift of perception, a redefining of what constitutes a creative (or parenting) act, such that it becomes something much more inclusive. Seamless and graceful at times and super challenging at others, this rather messy reconfiguration is pretty rich, I think - I sure do enjoy these stories, any way.
I've always been fond of those advanced in age. The senior's yoga class I taught years ago was my first and easily my favorite. But there's been something about watching how lightening fast my children are growing, and something about loosing my parents in their early fifties, that has sharpened my eagerness to find older role models, made me curious about where most of us are going, and how to go there beautifully. But all of this is a drawn out way of saying that I'm facing my own aging process, I suppose.
At thirty-five, I'm a long way from canes and replacement teeth (and I often even look to women just ten years out from my own age to give me more to look forward to as I progress), but there's just nothing quite like the grace of one who has aged for a very long time with wonder and curiosity, with openness and the desire to create, the desire to grow and learn until they simply can't. So I collect their stories, admire them, and turn to them for a lot of comfort. There is much to be learned from our elderly, much to be cherished and protected. And let's face it, they have the awesomest names in our human bunch.
I love June Schwarcz. Her work is stunning, and her attitude and spirt are so inspiring (did you see her home tour several years ago on Apartment Therapy? probably my favorite ever), making me proud to have a June of our own at home and to add Mrs. Schwarcz to my official list of role models.
Beyond June's name being an absolute favorite for a lot of us, her craft brings naming inspiration as well. She does pretty things to metal, doesn't she? Reminds me of the great metal inspired monikers:
Brass
Copper
Gold
Rosegold
Silver
What are your favorite metal inspired names? What are your favorites from the generations of your grandmothers?
Each time we read The Cat at Night, by Dahlov Ipcar, we pause to stare at the blue, black and white illustrations in the front and back of the book. Might even be my favorite part. I've also stared a while at the author's name, marveling at how beautiful it looks in print. And it sounds even lovelier. I'd say it's pretty much a perfect sounding name, an easy and instant favorite of mine since first seeing it. It's sound is bold and strong, a bit regal, but simple, soft and almost flowery.
Ahh, Vogue Paris editor, Emmanuelle Alt - so stylish with her bare face and tomboy-meets-heels sexy elegance. She definitely embraces the bold and daring, but in a totally simple and paired down manner (but of course). Balance, balance, balance. The names in her family of four:
Emmanuelle + Franck
Antonin
Francoise
Do you know their full names? I'm so curious! Do you think her name well suits her? Do you think her aesthetic influenced the names of her children - a consistency there? This kind of challenging to judge from an American frame of reference, but fun, none the less.
I haven't visited any blogs for some time. I'm slowing down a lot in general, cutting all that isn't absolutely essential, so catching up with my favorite blogs was a real treat tonight. Finding this image at Ashley's, attached to such a sweet name and nickname, made my heart sing. And finding a collection of unread posts is definitely a giant perk of cutting back on computer time.
Along with my general media diet, I've mentally prepared for a long break from Marginamia so many times in the past month. I have a little something going on with me that needs sorting, requiring much of my time and demanding greater mental space and clarity. I will write about it someday, but not now.
Of course, the second I lift the pressure of feeling I need to post, I can't seem to stay away. Little bits just keep coming, and then I remember why I came here in the first place. So while most of my contributions may be brief or spotty for a while, I won't write that explanation post just yet, telling you why I need to put down the pen. Maybe this space is more essential for me than I thought.
And with that realization, I feel the need to say thank you - for being here, for reading, for sharing, for letting me write about you and yours. for letting me write about me and mine. My heart is full with gratitude. Love to you all.
We headed back up to Andes, NY a while back for a little fall vacation. It was as restorative as I expected it would be - hiking, campfires, the laziest days. And the prettiest cloudscapes. Having lived near the ocean a lot, particularly in Hawaii, I've been fortunate to see some amazing clouds, but on this trip to the Catskills, the skies rivaled any I've seen before them.
One morning we awoke to a lake of clouds in the valley below us. We watched through massive windows, over the tops of warm cups, following along as they spiraled up and out. Driving home they were so close to our car, I swear I could have touched them if I'd had a long enough stick. I spent a long time thrust up into the dashboard. Brian Eno soundtracked our view and lulled the girls to sleep. Our car has never been so void of voices, nor found it's passengers so collectively captivated.
As an eleven year old girl, I was nicknamed 'space queen' by a teacher, always staring out the windows. It stuck, of course, as nicknames of that sort tend to do in a pack of kids. I eventually embraced it. What else could I do? It was true, after all - I couldn't take my eyes off the clouds. Life busied itself well enough that I finally did. Thankfully, I'm now often brought back by following the gazes of my children, up and out.
For those so inclined and inspired...
Kumo (Japanese)
Pilvi (Finnish)
Wolke (German)
Cloud (our version is the fairest)
