In Favor of Fuzz™

Just who is the modern outdoorsman? Well, he may grow a beard, but he no longer chops wood. In fact, his time outdoors may be limited to hiking, camping, or meditating. He has a casual sense of style. He’s sensitive. He views nature as one big adventure, one he’s willing to recycle for. And gifting him with any of these items will earn you an invite to his next outing.

Wouldn’t this make the perfect wedding ring? (Am I moving too fast?) Ebeniste combines zebrawood and walnut to create this unique men’s ring that is not only natural but stunning.

This rucksack by infusion may exude style, but it’s all business. Well, adventure business, that is. Made with cotton canvas, leather, and heavy-duty thread, this piece is built to be strong and functional. I think Indiana Jones would approve, don’t you?

The outdoors don’t have to equal stink. Take Care of My Man Soap Set by Elegant Rose Boutique contains natural ingredients and fresh scents that won’t distract from his back-to-earth focus.

You love him. You also want to shoot him. The Headhunter t-shirt by Blackbird Tees carries both sentiments. Do you think the neon yellow will help him stand out enough in the forest? We wouldn’t want an accident.

Your man isn’t about to leave home without his iPhone (for emergency purposes, of course), so help him protect it with this wool iPhone sleeve by Alex M. Lynch. Made from 100 percent merino wool, the sleeve will provide cushion and water resistance while standing up to rugged (emergency) use.

This is just a no-brainer. All men are little boys at heart, and this set of three wooden slingshots by Gift.Go.Green will provide hours of not-so-innocent fun, vintage style.

I went antiquing today. It was fantastic.

I knew I was taking home the screw drivers. Their intimate sizes and classic vintage colors sealed their fate as mine. As for the jar of thread spools, I was weighing their practicality until I actually opened the jar and took a whiff. I was then hit with that good basement smell (an addiction commonly acquired by growing up in an ancient house) and realized my purchase would not only be one of supplies, but also bottled experiences. Plus, anything collected in a glass jar is automatically awesome. Think about it.

P.S. I’m so proud of these photos!

It was our senior project in the Fibers department to do something artistic with a matchbox. We could incorporate the matches or not; we could focus on the outside, inside, or both. The only limitation was the matchbox itself. Such a simple and unusual challenge is a perfect catalyst for creativity, and our responses were as wonderful as they were varied.

Matchbox art began as a creative exercise for Kaija of Paperiaarre but soon transformed into a series of ongoing projects. Kaija’s current “Letters to You” is about absolute freedom within limitations, and it shares the format of all her matchbox endeavors: she creates them according to a schedule, she uses recycled materials, and she does whatever she wants. Some of the matchboxes seem to tell stories, much like miniature books, while others simply combine subjects and materials to an artistic end, sometimes clear but often mysterious. Kaija’s process is intuitive and the results invite us to form our own associations, to project a bit of ourselves into the meaning.

I imagine opening one of these matchboxes is akin to opening a drawer in someone else’s house. Did you ever do that as a child, explore the hidden parts of a relative’s home while the adults were busy doing “visit” things? Sometimes this rude curiosity just reveals the door to the basement, but other times you uncover a junk stash that instantly causes your imagination to flicker awake. Photos, old bits of paper, broken jewelry, a key, string—all jumbled together, all waiting to be teased apart and collectively interpreted. Funny, my narratives never had much to do with Aunt Mary…

Life can be difficult to navigate. When all signs fail (or fail to materialize), the traveler should pinpoint where he has been, where he currently is, and where he hopes to go. He should give himself credit for all the roads he has taken, whether they led somewhere worthwhile or just dead-ended, and he should allow himself to explore any promising avenues that present themselves. And the traveler should ask his friends for a map, please and thank you.

Luckily, These Are Things carries plenty of snazzy maps. They may not outline career paths or show where the best relationships are, but these maps offer simple and modern interpretations of our favorite places, including cities, states, Europe, and the entire globe for those of us who’d rather not choose. Each one is designed and printed using a variety of techniques by creative duo Jen Adrion and Omar Noory in Columbus, Ohio. Sure, a geographical map isn’t going to provide us with a direction in life, but it can help us recount our travels, readjust our perspectives, and, in the case of These Are Things, put an appreciative smile on our faces.

My Path:

• Wheeling, WV – Born and raised
• Savannah, GA – College
• Mansfield, MA – Six months
• Charleston, SC – Present

And where have you been? Share your journey in the comments section.

Let’s just hang out. Grab some coffee. Read a book. And while we’re at it, let’s fill a room with a climbable, lounge-inducing net that will act as a gigantic stress strainer.

It’s been done before, you know. Twenty students of Studio 400, an architectural design studio at California Polytechnic State University,  built such a structure for “White.” The gallery installation featured climbable columns and panels woven from plastic sheeting that were meant to create an interactive space for presenting the students’ research books. Participants entering the white plastic-wrapped area could either crouch under the structure to locate an intimate reading nook or climb up into a more socially active space to enjoy the books, which stood out from their surroundings in chartreuse acrylic slipcases.

“White” reminds me that spaces are the backdrops of our experiences—they shape our perspectives and affect how we interpret corresponding objects and events. But spaces are experiences in and of themselves, too, because to inhabit a space is to experience it. I know this topic is at risk of becoming a tad too cerebral, but it does raise some interesting questions when considering the use and treatment of exhibition space and how we prepare others to experience art. I think this particular installation was very successful at isolating the space and encouraging interaction, both with the art and the other participants. I’m not sure if a combination of hammocks will have the same effect in my living room, but it sounds too fun to pass up.

Last Saturday I became adventurous (a more optimistic term for stir crazy) and decided to attend an art walk at a local marina. I went solo and the usual happened: I got a bit lost, received odd looks from my waitress for dining alone, and generally had a blast taking pictures and playing the tourist. I did have one unusual experience, though—I found myself wanting to buy fine art.

It may sound strange, but when you are a artist/designer/creative type, you tend to approach art with a mixture of criticism and jadedness. At least I do, anyway. Don’t get me wrong—I still get super excited about art and design, but I 1) know what goes on behind the scenes and am therefore less easily spellbound, and 2) look at a ton of art on a daily basis with a trained eye and have hence learned to be picky. So my finding something that I actually like enough to want to purchase and hang on my wall is kind of a big deal. And that’s what happened at the 2012 ArtWalk at Bohicket Marina.

There were about ten participating artists set up outside under a white tent, the majority of the works being in paint or pastel. There were the typical subjects for the Charleston area: ocean sunsets, boats adrift, landscapes dominated by moss-covered oaks. Then I came upon Tina Mayland’s display. What first caught my eye were the paint textures, laid down thickly with a palette knife, followed by two lively paintings of backlit chickens executed in the same hues as a nearby sunset. Those chickens spoke to me, as chickens tend to do incessantly.

Have you ever experienced chickens in person? They are hilarious. These lowly birds are a furry of movement and conversation, as Tina Mayland knows intimately. She has captured chickens many times (artistically, that is; I assume bird-wrangling isn’t a hobby) and the results have been popular. Tina’s painting technique suites the chickens so well, it’s uncanny. So I kept staring, and before I knew it, I was glancing at the price tag. I began envisioning where I would put those chickens. (Definitely not the kitchen—that would be so unoriginal.) And then I realized all I had on me was a credit card and $5 in ones. Damn. It.

Okay, so fine art probably shouldn’t be an impulse buy, and once I thought about it from the couch in my apartment, I realized those lovely birds don’t exactly suit my decor. But Tina’s chickens got me as far as counting my bills (as short-lived as that experience was), and that is quite an accomplishment. It was downright exciting. And next time I go to an art walk, I will go prepared.