Growing Up Abstract

Growing up in our home were my mother's large canvas paintings. Abstract and non-objective. They were always open to individual interpretation. One of my brothers and I were discussing our mom's paintings at some point recently. We reminded eachother what we used to see in them. I remember being young in California and sharing the same interpretations with my childhood friends. Growing up I had friends who played along, offering up their visions and stories. And then I had a few friends who may have just been a little baffled by those large abstract canvases and the stories I offered to go with them.
With all that said, I am home at my parent's. And these large canvas paintings, abstract and non-objective, welcome me back. And it still feels so comfortable to be at home.

Merry Christmas and...

Joyeux Noel
Feliz Navidad
Fröhliches Weihnachten
Buon Natale
etc., etc.


The Friendly Beasts
Jesus our brother kind and good
Was humbly born in a stable of wood
And the friendly beasts around him stood
Jesus our brother kind and good

I said the donkey shaggy and brown
I carried his mother up hill and down
I carried him safely to Bethlehem town
I said the donkey shaggy and brown

And I said the cow all white and red
I gave him my manger for a bed
I gave him my hay for to pillow his head
I said the cow all white and red

I said the sheep with a curly horn
I have him my wool for his blanket warm
And he wore my coat on that Christmas morn
I said the sheep with a curly horn

I said the dove from the rafters high
Cooed him to sleep that he should not cry
We cooed him to sleep my love and I
I said the dove from the rafters high

And I said the camel all yellow and black
Over the desert upon my back
I brought him a gift in the wise men's pack
I said the camel all yellow and black

Thus every beast remembering it well
In the stable dark was so proud to tell
Of the gifts that they gave Emmanuel
The gifts that they gave Emmanuel

My Afternoon with Maud

This afternoon: boy, did I lounge around. But I also finished making and crafting together all of my give-to Christmas gifts. I have been enjoying Eric Rohmer's series of The Six Moral Tales. One of my favorite's is My Night at Maud's. It is a black&white French New Wave film. Set in Clermont, France with Winter as the backdrop. What seems to be a simple film about a man searching for love, it is French, and as we all know, French films are always more complex than they initially seem to be.




There is something nice with black&white movies. They are simple in themselves.
What are some of your favorite black&white movies, please share.
Now that the sun has set and the temperature outside has dropped. It is due time for me to continue reading Little Women with a cup of hot cocoa by the fire.
I leave with a parting gift of black&white (slightly shook) simplicity.

Fading Faces

Faces fading with all different tones in sephia. Not only are the fashions remarkable; buttoned up lace gathered collars and layers, layers, layers. The character in their faces offer all sorts of imagining stories. It is amazing to think how different their lives were. Even such simple tasks were approached with entirely different mindsets.
What a beautiful image a face can express.
Feel free to click on the image for a larger view.












I must admit that this discovery was not one of my own. Rather, I give my thanks to Paula at the Paris Market. She and her husband, Taras have found the most amazing things for their shop on Broughton street in Savannah, Georgia. I figured since I was leaving the store, I may as well splurge a bit and take a little piece of it with me.

Settling In

I am surprised/disturbed, yet still enchanted by the ongoing editing process of my posessions. I have been unpacking my belongings and have been trying to create a space while I am stationed at my parent's house in Powder Springs, Georgia. The funny thing is that I still get a child-like excitement when unpacking certain things. I promise, the excitement never ceases especially once coming across a specific object at the bottom of one suitcase. Wrapped in layers of cream-colored, laced slips was Emily's made doll. I took her out with delicate hands, and immediately decided that I wanted her hanging right above me when I sleep. With her wrapped lace head and her puckered lips, good dreams are bound to come from her. I just can tell. If money grew on trees, I would pick some off and buy the entire collection of dolls. I have fond memories while spending time in Brooklyn earlier this summer with Emily, Paul, and Haylie. It was then these beautiful creations were being developed.


I am so pleased to suggest that everyone check out more of Emily's work at www.emilymariecox.com

Boudoir

Garden

Vintage

Check out more of sweet Kelsey's Christmas illustrations here on The Paris Market website

Give Someone a Bear Hug

As of this morning, waking up in my old bed, and having my mom start my day off with some hot cocoa. I feel happy. The past few days I have been sentimental in regards to my departure from Savannah, Georgia. I said goodbye to most everyone I still knew after my four years of residence. And I stocked up on "bear hugs" to last me at least until mid-January. Aside from hugs of farewell it really is the perfect season to offer warmth to eachother with a nice, tight-squeezed "bear hug".
To be honest, John's motives behind this painting probably aren't as cut and dry. I think there is something like, "bear" and "reba" have the same letters. And for me, anything other than a comparison to Reba McEntire is much appreciated. Take whatever you wish from it, but go find yourself a bear.
(Thumbnail from John Kesling's "An Excuse To Paint a Bear")

And how it goes....

Our house on Park Avenue, east of Forsyth, held a grand sale. The sidewalk was lined with stuff that could not be packed up and placed in any sort of suitcase heading east to France. Mannequins, clothing, dressers, a trumpet, typewriters, balls of yarn, old window frames, and trinkets. It was an overcast weekend and we played opera in the backround to enlighten the shopper's experience.
I am preparing for this new life after Savannah. I wish that I could make a post featuring all things scanned in which remind me of this quaint, Southern city. I am at a loss of images, only words. I would feature the moss like so....



"spanish moss"






and the caption would read, "oh how romantic the moss seems in Savannah. Like the hair of a graying old woman, it just hangs off the arms of the awkward oak tree branches"
Then I would scan in a piece of Paula Deen's fried chicken, and right under it, her pecan pie. Like so....




"fried chicken"
"pecan pie"




and I would write a few words about the past four years waiting tables there.
After my Lady and Sons tribute I would scan in some found trinkets.




"trinket #1"


"trinket #2"


"trinket #3"


and each would have a story.

My time left in Savannah is limited. It is a bittersweet feeling to pack up my most beloved belongings and leave a place I've given myself to for a few good years. For anyone who reads this I wish to offer up real images of what Savannah is for me. But like I mentioned, my time is short, and there is so much to show.

goodbye Savannah, Georgia.

The Art of Thread Pressing

My co-worker came upstairs after finding a special little treasure in the old book cabinet downstairs in the basement. He held this worn book, and opened each page with delicate turning. Pressed in every single page is a small bundle of thread. With 107 pages, there are approximately 53 colorful teaspoon sized threads. Each of these small bundles create the simplest, most interesting little designs against the yellowing pages of french literature.
It is so special to me.





If anyone knows the real art behind thread pressing, Please, by all means, feel free to share.

Something to Look Forward to

images borrowed from The Authentic Bistros of Paris, Francois Thomazeau and Sylvain Ageorges

Not that I haven't been completely wild for Savannah, because I have. These days are spent either waiting tables at The Lady's or behind the counter at the Market, either way saving money. In the time in between, like walking to and from work, is the time I really appreciate this town. Robert Redford and crew are here, shooting for a movie. Which in itself gives me great pleasure knowing that the famed and fortuned, scouted and chose to illuminate a film with Savannah as the backdrop.

So I have fallen into routine.
Hot cocoa in the morning. It is usually rushed because I like to soak up as much sleep as I can. But I like to think that my days in Paris, I will be able to stop in to my neighborhood cafe, and take my sweet Parisian time, sipping slowly on my hot cocoa, two and a half more months to appreciate the present, and...something to look forward to.

Some of my Staples

The simplicity of single objects.
Website in the works....