say something

I do have a thing for salvaged metal.

Especially old industrial sign letters, like this:

 salvage me

I might buy the B and E. Not for a to be or not to be kind of thing, but more cause, ma' name is Brienne Elizabeth.

They're 22" tall. And I dig they've been through something. Good texture.

and it starts

And this blog is born, here's why...

on my bed:

...3 books I took from the shelf "Homestyle Source Book", "Living Textures", "New Classic Style".
...a calligraphy pen, which I've found makes writing my to-do lists, well, fancy. And somehow, less daunting.
...a note bad. ugly, freebie.


I'm typing from my laptop. Had my nails done for the first time ever yesterday trying to decide if I was "that type of girl"...really, I was stressed. Needed something new. The color is called sage, but it's misleading. It's a french gray. The polish is vegan, chemical-free (I am that kind of girl).

ok, so birth of blog (stay on task)

I grabbed the books off my shelf for one purpose- to go through and flag images I like. As a, "who am I?" exercise.

I grabbed a pair of boots I bought in NYC, too, before coming to bed. Because I love them. I set them next to the bed and thought perhaps they might serve as some, starting point for the "who am I" venture.

So my point? it has become blatantly obvious that at some point between art and design schooling, being busy, being impressionable- aka...acquiring some notion of style through osmosis through people I deem as stylish however ill-fitting or contradictory their style may be to my personality (that has mattered so little), budgets, living in a small city type atmosphere but missing the country, and constantly evolving "tastes" that I actually, have no clue what I like.

I rarely see anything out and about and think, yeah- that's me. i.don't.see.brie.

These boots were a start.
So was this nail polish.

So what happened tonight? well, it occurred to me, to look at the brand of the $30 boots, and see if some of it's like-styled pals were available for purchase. Or was it a loner in a sea of yuck?

I just clicked through 117 boots on Macy's website to look for boots that say "brie" ( I prefer Brienne. I don't have the heart to tell a lot of people that. Brie is easier to pronounce and rhymes with more things).

I judged myself for the online search. Were finding a perfect pair of boots going to give me an insight into myself? maybe. Did I think I should blog about this next phase of my life...well, you're reading, aren't you?

I admit...I'm in the middle of what I'd deem a code red crisis in a designers life. I say designers life, because it is a common assumption that as creative people we have this well-developed sense of self (especially aesthetic preferences, see hair color comment later). And many designers I know, absolutely do.

Not knowing what I like...is a problem. While I can design things, I can tell you all the rules or principles that were followed to make something look "right" or why something that is totally wrong, and breaks said rules, is still appealing.

When it comes to me? I'm about as lost as a 5 year old at a zoo wearing camo.

My hair was bleach, bleach blonde for less than 2 months recently.Thought it was totally me. Learned I hated it. Now my hair is my natural dark brown. I think I'm boring. It's really, see, a no-win. Tonight, I almost chopped it all off. Maybe new rule...blog first, decide later.

This isn't as superficial as it sounds. Without diving into a side of myself (I promised this would not become one of "those" blogs)
            I'll say this: at 26, I'm completely lost. And for the first time, I really really, give a damn. And I have less time than ever, to entertain what really matters to me- and I recently realized, that's a huge problem. I want to be surrounded by beautiful things that matter to me. Less clutter. Less purchases based on some "statement" I saw some other girl make and thought I could too. Less indecision. Less caring so much about what other people think that it's crippling. Less pressure. More deep breaths.

My dad waited til he was 69 to become a sculptor. When I read on his website he traded his dream to be an artist in to be a father and husband and provide for his family- something struck me about conversations we've had- It wasn't about what he did for a living. It was about the fact it took him that long to figure out what really mattered. Because, you make time for the things that matter. And if you don't, time to start. Welcome to my start.

 While I can see myself being happy as a lighting designer, it is my life when I return home from the end of the long day, that I hope - apparently- to define by clues from a pair of boots purchased on a whim that feel like "me". And a few design books. And this nagging feeling that, you can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl. And I'm not taking Dolly Parton music. I'm talking values based on comfort, views of green, and fresh air. I'm not built for the city, I don't think. It stirs enthusiasm and creativity. It does not, comfort my heart- not like overgrown trees, the smell of hay in our barn, running round barefoot with my nephew through a sprinkler.

so, this blog- which will house far less blathering in future posts and hopefully more pictures...is sort an, i.see.brie exercise.

boots