My first sewing project was a “picture” of a flower that I made when I was about seven. I chose green and purple ribbon for the stem and petals, respectively, and a white button for the bloom’s center, which I attached to a square of quilted light blue Swiss dot fabric – aka the sky – with long, sloppy stitches.
It’s not a masterpiece by any means, with its loose stitches, unfinished edges. But precision is supposed to be beside the point when you’re a kid learning a new skill; the fun lies in the creative process, not necessarily the finished product.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve had a rather hard time remembering this. I’m more than a little neurotic, and a bit obsessed with perfection, whatever that means. My natural inclination to create with abandon is at permanent odds with my OCD-driven desire for unsullied excellence, and it’s not always pleasant.
During the peak of New York Fashion Week, we played host to numerous events, presenting the pieces of our newest collection at meetings and trunk shows all across Manhattan. We had the joy of meeting with customers to showcase our latest pieces and help them design one-of-a-kind garments of their own.
Thanks to the generosity of a few dear friends, new and old, we could not have asked for a better show.
With another Studio Weekend under our belt, we are happy to begin the work week with new friends, ideas, and projects.
At the close of September, we will be hosting a one-day retreat at the beautiful Hermitage Hotel in Nashville, Tennessee. Join us Saturday, September 29, 2012, for a day full of crafting, laughter, story-telling, and relaxation as we create DIY projects in Alabama Chanin style.
The Hermitage Hotel opened its doors in September 1910 as Nashville’s first million-dollar hotel. Named after Andrew Jackson’s Hermitage estate, the grounds are rich with history and the building is filled with Southern heritage. The hotel, with rooms once advertised as “fireproof, noise-proof, and dustproof, $2.00 and up,” is now one of the top retreats in the state of Tennessee, has been awarded the AAA Five Diamond Award eight years in a row and the Forbes Travel Guide Five Star Award five years in a row.
We will host our first One-Day Retreat of the fall season in New York’s beautiful Hudson Valley on Sunday, September 16th. Our day will be spent in a restored nineteenth century factory and will feature local food from Barbara Goldstein of Blima’s.
We were able to talk to friend Melissa Auf der Maur from Basilica to find out a little more about the history of the space, future plans for the center, and where to spend the rest of our weekend in the Hudson Valley.
Below we share what learned – which includes lessons on historic preservation and roof gardens.
As the first week at Penland progressed to week two, the piles of books on our studio meeting table (and the individual studio tables) have grown substantially. We have spoken of so many things and explored SO many ideas. Here are a few of the volumes that have made their way into our conversations:
Just when I think that it can’t get any better, it does. A weekend in the mountains was what I needed and it’s the first time in ages that I meet Monday morning feeling rested, relaxed (beyond measure), and balanced. The highlight of my weekend was certainly a swim in the North Toe River: icy cold waters, a gentle rain, friends, a series of rapids, warmer pools of water carved into the rocks. I often forget how MUCH I NEED to be outside.
While I swam, my studio continued their adventures in stenciling and sewing.
After two hours of restorative yoga, a walk around the studio reveals beautiful progress.
It’s been raining every day here at Penland—such a change from the dry, dying fields of North Alabama over the last weeks. Like a miracle, it rained on our cotton field, too (more to come on that next week). My father reports that we did get 3 inches of rain at my house and I love how he called it a “good rain.” “Long and slow,” he drawls. I know what he means. It has been the same here at Penland, but I have a pair of rubber boots and, thanks to a Spruce Pine store, a camping poncho. And the mountains here just feel like they are particularly beautiful in the rain… I believe that they call them the “Smoky Mountains” for a reason. Continue reading
I was about 22 years old when I entered my first design studio. I felt like a baby. I had rarely taken an art class in school. When I say rarely, I mean there had been a few special days of art in grade school – nothing particularly formal, and certainly nothing recent. At that time, I didn’t think that I KNEW how to make. In that moment, those grade school classes and the lessons of my grandmothers in living arts didn’t seem to matter; I was scared of the entire process and frozen. The freedom that seemed to stretch before me was too much for my young mind to handle. As a young adult, my best friend was a budding artist. I remember her beautiful drawings so clearly and I began to think that that art was fascinating, but something that OTHER people did. Prints of Pinkie and The Blue Boy in gold foil frames, purchased at the local furniture store, were the only “art” that hung in our home.