As I’ve mentioned before, it’s as if the designer of Dumbarton Oaks garden took the interior of a gracious home and recreated it outdoors, made of lawn, trees, bushes, fountains, trellises, and bricks. Some of the “rooms” are small and intimate, quiet spaces to relax and be oneself.
This is not one of them. This is a formal space, suited to high diplomacy, state dances, and receptions for royalty. It is a paragon of symmetry and elegance.
It is not a place for modern people. Contemporary habits of dress, posture, and behavior simply do not comport with this environment. If you can see the two figures entering frame left, you’ll see what I mean. They do not belong here, and on some level they know it.
Notes to self: use interfacing for collar and waistband; pin to fit before sewing; making things up as you go along is fun; use your own fabrics next time!
I made plenty of mistakes, and this item is pretty rough (I used no pattern at all… and I haven’t done some of the finishing yet). Nonetheless, I’m getting a feel for the process and having an absolute blast.
This blossoming plant (I have no idea what it is) reminds me of those fireworks that explode in stages of color: just as one part begins to fade, another opens to take its place.
There’s another amazing thing here.
This is an unretouched detail from the flower center. It looks like a painting. Those little petals and buds are colored exactly the way a paint-laden brush would mark them.
This is another one that I looked at and my first thought was “TEXTILE!”
Imagine if your interior decorator were an exterior decorator.
The spaces of Dumbarton Oaks are like a series of masterfully appointed outdoor living rooms. Each has an individual character, and the “architect” has arranged them in such a way that they flow from one to the next in the same way as a well-designed home interior.
But even the most public of spaces has to have some backstage real estate: a closet, a spot for storage, a bathroom. That’s probably the sort of thing this doorway (never open) is hiding.
Never mind that, to me, it looks enticingly like a passageway to a secret garden, a place even more magical, more exclusive, and more glorious than Dumbarton Oaks itself.
This is the kind of image that tickles me. Are we inside or outside? How many layers are there? Which things are line-of-sight, which are reflections?
There are three people in this photograph; can you spot them?
I saw this beauty in the parking lot outside my dentist’s office. All I can say is, I sincerely hope it belongs to my dentist. There oughta be some compensation for having to stare into people’s diseased mouths all day.
Fast, sleek, red, and green. Shiny!
I did my laundry. [Aside: I am a huge laundry procrastinator. When I say "I did my laundry," you have to picture me trudging up and down my apartment's stairs ~ carrying bushels of clothes and linens ~ to the basement about 15 times. It's a serious workout.] So I did my laundry, and found that one of my favorite big bathsheets was starting to seriously fray at the edges. So sad: it’s a great towel, both thirsty and soft. What to do?
Well, as fate would have it, my latest sewing book purchase, Small Stash Sewing: 24 Projects Using Designer Fat Quarters
, has an upcycled bathmat project in it. Say no more, says I!
Once again, I failed to follow directions and improvised as I went along. In retrospect, I would have done some freeform quilting lines in the long direction. I made the mat nearly twice as big as author Melissa Averinos describes. Also, I just couldn’t bear to funkify it as much as she suggests (raw edges and the like), but I didn’t “clean it up” as much as I could have, so it’s sort of a betwixt and between freeform quilted thing.
But, you know what? I lurve it. It looks so much better the old yellow Ikea mat I had in there. And it’s incredibly soft and cushy underfoot.
Since this one was so easy and fun to make, I imagine I’ll never toss out a slightly frayed but usable towel again.
I have never seen a fountain like this one anywhere else. I wish that the groundskeepers at Dumbarton Oaks would clean it and do some restoration work.
I’d also love to know who designed it. Whoever it was, feminist artists from the 1970s and on could have learned a thing or two about the graceful use of female signifiers from her or him.
I returned again to Dumbarton Oaks because the weather was just too beautiful to spend the afternoon indoors.
I’ve been there several dozen times, yet more often than not I spot a feature I’ve never noticed before. In some cases, I think they added or replaced items that were missing or in disrepair. Mostly, though, I think the place is just rich in enough in detail to keep rewarding return visits. In fact, the whole joint is a compelling argument for the concentration of wealth in the hands of people with good taste who are willing to share.
Which direction is your nature pointing you to go?
So my very first sally with my new sewing machine was a remarkably straightforward “Ruched Belt” from Small Stash Sewing: 24 Projects Using Designer Fat Quarters by fabric designer Melissa Averinos of Yummy Goods.
Needless to say, I was a complete FAIL in following directions (gotta work on that), and so my first effort is a tad lame. Still, it did begin the process of learning the ins and outs of my machine, and it was fun to just end up with something usable, if utterly amateur-hour.
The colors and fabrics are not my usual style [orange! purple! paisley! oh my!]. When I mentioned to my boyfriend that the whole thing looked “a bit hippie-ish,” he responded, “Well, you’re a bit hippie-ish,” which totally appalled me. I prefer to think of myself as elegant and/or edgy: I am not, I repeat NOT, a flower-child in any way, shape, or form (except maybe with respect to my constitutional difficulty in just following directions for godsake). I am, however, a forgiving creature and did not break up with him on the spot on grounds of irreconcilable differences.
I expect to do at least two more items from Small Stash Sewing: an upcycled bathmat and a handbag. I probably won’t follow directions on them either, so please blame lousy results on me, not the author.
