away

I'm over here. Be back soon!

Home Companion

I'm so pleased to tell you that Oliver + S is featured in the current issue of Mary Engelbreit's Home Companion magazine! We met the team from MEHC at Quilt Market last October, and they contacted us shortly after the show to request samples for a photo shoot. Since it's the June/July issue, they wanted samples in red, white and blue fabrics, which was easy to do once I saw the American Jane Wee Play collection from Moda, which served as the basis for the group. Here's one of the photos from the shoot, and now you can see the feature on the website.


And we're in good company! Anna Maria is featured in the magazine, too!

I love this magazine. In fact, I only re-discovered it last summer when we were in Michigan and I found it in a bookstore. It's been completely re-designed, with a contemporary, clean feel and lots of terrific inspiration. Heather Bailey was featured in the last issue, if you missed her. Lots of good stuff.

yellow shoes

Tsia noticed that we were both wearing our yellow shoes yesterday, so of course we needed a photo to commemorate the occasion. Don't you love how she's holding her foot? I think she was worried that Todd would somehow miss her new sandals.


Photojojo featured Ellen Ugelstad’s The Shoe Project a while ago. The combination of head and shoes is wonderful, and I also love just the shoes alone. They're so expressive, aren't they? And then there are these great flickr photographs of legs and shoes. I think I've linked to some of these before, so I must really like them.

Book week #4: Kimonomania

Sorry to leave you hanging on that last post. My mom was in town helping me to sew samples for Quilt Market and to work out some of the tricky bits in the pattern instructions, and we were busy, busy all week long.

In any case, thanks for all your thoughtful comments on my post. Truthfully, by the time I wrote it I had pretty much decided it was ok. As several people pointed out, the Anthropologie tree really is quite different from mine, even if the original inspiration did come from my work. I appreciate your thoughts and responses to it.

In the meantime, back to book week! Here's one that Todd and Tsia picked out for my birthday, completely on their own. They chose well.


Like books #1 and #2, this book was also written by someone exploring a new place: the author moved to Japan for two years to learn about its culture, fashion and people. But unlike the other two books, this one focuses exclusively on one aspect of that culture: the kimono. And it turns out that there is plenty to learn from such a deceptively simple garment.

The construction of the kimono is, in itself, fascinating. According to the book, contemporary kimonos are made from one strip of fabric, in one single width for the front, back, and sleeves. The fabric is woven or printed directionally so that front and back will look the same once the kimono is assembled (no shoulder seam). And all kimonos are made with the same measurements: one for men's and another for women's.


The fit of the kimono is accomplished exclusively by folding and tying, which requires lots of training to accomplish. The collar should fall to reveal part of the back neck, the front should align with the stocking seam on the right leg, the length of the kimono must be just the correct height, etc. Various padding and layers are added to give it the proper shape and volume.


And the best part? One wears different kimonos in different seasons, and the combination of fabrics, textures, and patterns is an art in itself. So of course I love all the photos of kimonos and obis (the wide belt that's worn over the kimono), both historic and contemporary, in this book. The combinations are spectacular and unusual. Florals and checks, stripes and geometrics. And I thought matching men's clothing was fun, with the suits, shirt, and tie patterns and textures.

What do you think?

Let's face it. On some level or another, most of us who are doing some sort of creating or crafting are getting inspiration and ideas from each other. That's one of the reasons I blog: I want to be part of a larger community of creative individuals in which I can share my ideas and get other ideas from members of that same community.


Artists and crafters find inspiration from a range of sources: the Internet, books and magazines, art, music, nature, you name it. Flickr is a great source of inspiration, with such a wide variety of photographs to browse. And I recently wrote about the Esprit ads of the 1980's, the feeling and spirit of which has inspired much of my children's clothing design.

I've also written about how I am more than happy to share my ideas with others. And I regularly receive email from people who like an idea or project and want to use it or teach it. I'm always more than happy to share, and so far I've never refused to let someone use something when they've asked.


Which is why I was really annoyed last Friday when, standing in line to make a purchase at the Anthropologie store, I looked up at discovered this tree behind the cash registers.

Since making Tsia her little hexagon tree I've certainly heard from a number of people who want to use this idea and, again, I haven't said no to anyone. But I haven't heard a peep from anyone at Anthropologie, and we're on the same small island!


Fortunately I had my camera along with me (don't leave home without it, right?), and I quickly snapped some (poor quality, I know) photos, knowing full well that photography isn't permitted inside the store. And sure enough, after taking two quick shots I was stopped by an employee who told me I couldn't take photos. I explained, rather dumbfoundedly, that the tree was my work, as in taken from my work, and could I please speak with a member of the visual team immediately. I completed my purchase and turned around to face three or four employees circling nervously. They quickly disbursed when I approached, and a young woman introduced herself. I told her the story of my tree quilt, explained that the display was clearly taken from my work, and told her how disappointed I was that no one had contacted me before using my work.

She, in turn, explained that the work had actually started out as a display at the Rockefeller Center flagship store and had since made its way to this store (did anyone happen to see this or get photos of it? I'd love to hear from you, if so).

So I'm really not sure how to respond to this discovery. I'd like to say I'm flattered and it's fine. But it doesn't feel OK, really. Obviously this wasn't a direct ripoff like the one Hillary just experienced, but the source of inspiration is abundantly clear. And while I've stated right here that I'm happy to share, I also expect to be credited or asked for permission before someone uses my work. Personally, I try to give credit where credit is due, and I expect likewise. Especially if a company is benefiting from my work. It's one thing to use my work for personal or educational purposes; using it to make a profit for a large corporation is a bit different, wouldn't you say?

So I do just shake this off and remember that imitation is the best form of flattery? It's not the first time I've suspected that Anthropologie has copied the work of myself or of someone else in this community. I've heard and read some frustrating and upsetting stories about this company and their business practices in the past. I've also been inspired by things I've seen in the Anthropologie stores and in their window displays. Is this reciprocal inspiration, or is it something else? Am I making too big a deal out of it?

The return of book week, #3: Isn't she lovely?

We've got plenty of public services that don't work in this city. Take our neighborhood post office, for one. I've never seen such an abysmal operation: lines out the door, a total lack of concern on the part of the management and employees for the frustrated would-be customers waiting, and if you need to pick up a package on premises you'd swear there was no organizational system whatsoever behind those unstaffed bullet-proof windows.

Or witness our inability to pass the congestion traffic proposal for midtown last week; apparently some in our city don't appreciate efficiency, no matter how practical or effective it might be.

On the other hand, have I told you how much I love the New York Public Library? Now there's a system that works; with just a library card and a web connection, you can reserve a book from anywhere in the system and have it delivered to your local branch, easy-peasy. It's simple to check the status of your holds and to estimate the arrival of any item on your wait list based on the number of people in queue ahead of you. And renewing the items you've taken home is no trouble at all, provided no one is waiting behind you. It's all so orderly and pleasant and sensible and dreamy.

My dear friend and former student, Barbara, recently brought me a copy of Jane's wonderful book, The Gentle Art of Domesticity, from England. Every evening (or, really, early morning) before bed I've been taking a few minutes to soak up Jane's writing. Much like her blog, these beautifully composed observations on home life (not scrubbing and dusting, mind you, but creating, contemplating and appreciating) are enormously inspiring. Jane writes about art, baking, color, knitting, books, and a wide variety of topics. I love the well-thought-out nature of her writing. Each piece is beautifully composed in the same manner as her blog posts. It's an over-used metaphor, but Jane's pieces are like little gems. Or maybe tasty fairy-cakes would be a better description.

Anyway, every night while reading I make a mental note to get myself over to my friendly and efficient online library and reserve myself some of the films and books Jane references. Last night I finally got around to it; I reserved some old favorites as well some I've never heard of or have always meant to read or see. It's been a while since I last read Jane Eyre or watched Amelie. It was through Jane's blog that I first discovered Elizabeth Taylor (the writer, not the actor), and I've never read Dorothy Canfield Fisher or Elizabeth Gaskell. It's going to be a pleasure.

And speaking of pleasures, the book contains mostly Jane's own photography, which is always loaded with color and inspiration. Perhaps not the sort of visual stimuli one needs shortly before bedtime, but it's certainly a lovely book.

I'm thrilled that the book is going to be released here in the states by Stewart, Tabori and Chang later this year. Jane, I hope you'll still refer to them as fairy-cakes when the book is "translated" for us Americans? We may not be able to comprehend London congestion traffic plans, but I certainly hope we're able to sink our teeth into a proper English pastry, complete with it's appetising name.

Whoops

Did I leave you hanging? The suspense was unintentional; it's just been so busy over here with all our preparations for Quilt Market and the fall collection. In all the bustle I left you sitting there wondering what happened to me! Sorry. Here are a few updates:

Thank you for the Saturday Market Bag pattern info. Yes, it's now posted Jodi's blog as well as on Ravelry (which, if you're a knitter in any way, shape or form, you should absolutely sign up for--it looks great. And the waiting list moves very quickly, so don't let that dissuade you). Knit away! My alterations to the original pattern (results above) are still located here.

And speaking of knitting, my two little cardigans are being knitted up by one lovely Leila. Thanks for all the help, everyone!


Regarding our little flood situation, the studio is cleaned up and back in working condition again. But the patterns are now located on higher ground (i.e., in Tsia's bedroom at our apartment) while we find time to look for a new space. I love my studio because it's just two blocks from our apartment, but the same pipe has now sprayed boiling hot water on two separate locations. And we can't have leaks near paper patterns, can we? Not to mention the fact that the water is coming from above, not from the floor, so there's no easy way to protect the space from future leaks. I'm hoping to find a new space in the neighborhood sometime in the next few months, but certainly not before we leave for Market. Ah, the joys of Manhattan real estate.


In the meantime, our apartment complex is busy with some spring planting and landscaping, and the root balls of these 20-plus-foot-high trees are reminding me of knitting or macrame or weaving. Aren't they lovely? I wonder who has the job of making creating all those woven support systems for the roots of our new neighbors. The grounds will almost certainly be spectacular when all is planted, based solely on the number of plants outside awaiting their new homes.

It's still book week.

I've just had to alter my definition of "week" a bit due to some pressing matters. Like the flooding of my studio and near loss of my pattern inventory as well as my beloved sewing machine.

All is saved, minus a few minor items like my really ugly sewing table. (I was looking for an excuse to get a new one; now I've found the excuse!) It's a miracle the patterns were entirely untouched by the water, and the sewing machine was drenched but revived by my superhero local repair shop.

I'll be back soon with happier things. Like those books I mentioned.

Knitters, I need your help!

Two quick items before we get back to book week:

1. Does anyone recall who wrote the pattern for the Saturday Market Bag on Magknits? I've had a number of queries for the original pattern (I had done some modifications to the pattern for my version) over the past few days; apparently the Magknits site is down (gone?) and it's no longer available. I don't have the pattern and can't give it out without permission.

Update: Thanks, everyone! Jodi has re-posted the pattern on her blog, and you can find it via this link.



2. Knitters wanted: I have two lovely bundles of yarn, a pattern, and an idea. I'm looking for an expert knitter (or maybe two) who can make a couple of kid-sized cardigans before Quilt Market on May 16 (I'll need them before I leave on the 13th). Any takers? I want to do it myself soooo badly but just don't have the time these days. Besides, I have sizing issues when I knit.

Ok, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Books #1 and #2: I'd spend a year almost anywhere,

but Tokyo or Paris would be top on my wish list.


Having lived in NYC for more than 15 years, I like to think I know the city pretty well. But I still love to wander the streets, exploring and looking and constantly finding new things.


And it's still fun to see such a familiar city through fresh eyes, which is one of the reasons I enjoy published sketchbooks like A Year in New York (looks like this is out of print, by the way); I love to see it all through the eyes of someone for whom it's all new and unusual.


So when I saw the similarly titled A Year in Japan, by a different author, I knew I had to read/see it. Todd and I spent some time in Tokyo a few years ago and loved every bit of it: the robot do-it-all toilets, the back alley noodle shops, the various styles of dress. All fascinating.


The concept for this book is similar to A Year in New York, although the two are completely unrelated: young artist spends a year living in a new city and records his/her experiences in a sketchbook journal that later gets published. But I especially loved, in this book, the attention to minute details. She notices the spectacular washcloths displayed in the department stores (it turns out that Japanese women use them to dry their hands in public washrooms. How cool!), the amusing use of English words on products and signs...

...the rubber stamps available in public places for souvenir hunters...

...the spectacular socks...

...the plum blossoms (Tsia wanted me to take this photo for you. In fact, she insisted.)..

...the children's school bags...


...and my favorite, the tiny plastic soy-sauce fish for take-out sushi. Obviously I liked mine well enough to take them home and save them.

In any case, it's a wonderful little cultural exploration, filled with lovely paintings and details that I enjoy dipping into again and again. And now I can't wait to get back there again, to experience it all myself through my own fresh eyes.

Hmm, I wonder if anyone has published A Year in Paris yet? Or A Year in the Netherlands? Sweden? Australia?