We designed the Sendak for drawing and writing, and I have used mine for that since 2016. But my recent tumble into clay gave me a reason to choose another colour, and gather some new-to-me tools to fill it!

My introduction to clay was inside of this big yellow clay pot!	Cara Graver’s Cob Studio, a time traveling adventure.

“Who in the world am I?” Ah, that’s the great puzzle.’
–from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

I used to drive around and explore flea markets, find abandoned houses, and take photographs with a heavy Hasselblad that hung around my neck and bruised my chest. I had a car full of props and costumes, and bags for collecting abandoned house treasures like dresses, photographs, and letters. I didn’t count minutes or hours – I just sang and let the wind move through me as I drove. I’d drop off film and wait a week or more to pick it up – the time between was for thinking. Returning to the camera shop for my 12 square prints and negatives filled me with wild anticipation and gratification for the ongoingness.

This pacing of days somehow became a forgotten, foggy past – until I found clay and Cara’s studio. I began with directions that didn’t lead to the right road in the woods. I wandered amongst tulip poplars in the wintry dimness, looking for an oversized handmade pot, where the ‘open studio’ that I signed up for was about to commence.

When I found it, everything quieted. The ‘building’ was yellow and otherworldly – out of a book, another time, or imagination. As I do, I wandered around, taking it all in with an abundance of questions and shutter clicks. Inside, there were no corners. Diffused light poured in through reclaimed windows, each a different size and each with a deep windowsill. The wood-burning stove cut the chill in the air – I could have stayed for days.

I chose a seat, and got to clay-ing.

After the making was the waiting. As I returned the next week to pick up my fired treasures, I was reminded of the days when I used to drive around and explore flea markets, find abandoned houses, and take photographs with a heavy Hasselblad that hung around my neck and bruised my chest.

The wood burning stove kept us all warm and cozy during a bit of a flurry.	The composting toilet, outside in the cold, was a kind of treat!

The first abandoned house I remember exploring was across from the grocery store my mom and I skipped to, arm in arm, when I was in 7th grade. We had seen its decaying Victorian turrets peeking above the abundance of neglected foliage many times before braving its withered threshold. Early one Spring, we ventured into that liminal space and I don’t believe I ever completely left. Inside reeked of piss and mildew. Broken bottles and yellowed newspapers made a foul floor for weekend teenagers. But in the center – beneath a makeshift skylight and its funnel of wintry, warm, yellow sun – grew a single white tulip. Discovering this unexpected beauty with my mom so long ago, was surely a heavy pour in the cocktail of experiences from my youth that helped determine who I was to become.⁠

Three years ago, just one year after officially beginning our homeschool adventure with Søren and Silas, we decided to move out of Philadelphia in search of a new home amongst the trees. We quickly stumbled upon the patch of land that we’ve come to call The Five Acre Wood – consisting of a ton of invasive growth, some lawn, woods, ponds, animals, two creeks, our house (built in the late 1700s or early 1800s), a spring house (formerly our studio) and – just across the road – a dilapidated barn. Truly, our timing was perfect.

In the listing Walter had spied a corner of the barn – a cautious partial revealing of this daunting danger for most, we reckoned, and possibly the reason the house had been on the market for so long. But we dreamed of transforming the barn into a studio for art, homeschooling, woodworking, and yoga. Two years after our move, with the sale of our Philadelphia home (previously serving as an Airbnb), we were able to embark on this new adventure.

The project began with the removal of decades – centuries even – of junk that had been accumulating. We briefly considered hauling the stuff to a flea market to help fund the barn restoration, but after moving some of it out (there was so much!) we ordered a dumpster, and set everything curious in rows in the grass for the taking. There were chairs, well-loved ice skates, wooden sleds, tons of old bottles and antique toys – and then came the people – making it a strange theatre. The conversations that arose during the treasure-dispersal resulted in many journal pages of quotidian conversations which reveal people to be anything but the perceived everyday.

After the emptying, came the digging of an incredibly deep well which resulted in the grinding and unexpected excavating of Wissahickon Schist – also known as trash stone – from which our house was built. I collected a salad container full and transformed some of the pre-ground pigment into paint for my Iris Painter’s Palette.

We then removed the lead-free wood siding, the tin roof, the old doors, the flooring, and some beams, with the intention of re-using as much of this as possible in different places both inside of the barn and out. When the township inspector came and saw the rotted state of the exposed bits that were revealed, we had to embark upon a plan b, which brings to mind The Ship of Theseus.

By the time we finished removing the rotted bits, the trusses, the rafters, the floors, it was hard to say if we were reclaiming an old barn or building a new one in its image. The barn shape– the space within the frame – became one of the few parts I could solidly say remained of the historic place. But over the next few weeks – as I observed the delicate skeleton of the old barn standing strong but precarious in the wind and rain, with day now inside and night inside too – I grew suspicious of this boundaryless thing I wanted to keep. What were we preserving, and more, why?

We then removed the lead-free wood siding, the tin roof, the old doors, the flooring, and some beams, with the intention of re-using as much of this as possible in different places both inside of the barn and out. When the township inspector came and saw the rotted state of the exposed bits that were revealed, we had to embark upon a plan b, which brings to mind The Ship of Theseus.

By the time we finished removing the rotted bits, the trusses, the rafters, the floors, it was hard to say if we were reclaiming an old barn or building a new one in its image. The barn shape– the space within the frame – became one of the few parts I could solidly say remained of the historic place. But over the next few weeks – as I observed the delicate skeleton of the old barn standing strong but precarious in the wind and rain, with day now inside and night inside, too – I grew suspicious of this boundaryless thing I wanted to keep. What were we preserving, and more, why?

Most of the structure is new now, but within it is a tapestry of old materials. Walter transformed the old extinct-ish American Chestnut tree trunk beams into two glorious sets of double doors. An old second floor door, which led to an unsurvivable drop, is now part of the bathroom. The old floorboards were flipped and trimmed and woven with old floorsboards from other barns, and together have been sanded and oiled. The crooked skeleton of hand-hewn wood with its mortise and tenon joints, trunnels, and roman numeral marriage marks, lingers charmingly in the middle of the new open space. The white-washed wall, that once held tobaggons, hockey sticks, and fishing poles still divides the two main spaces. The stone-walled basement, where the barn’s last farm animal – a calf – lived in the 1960s, will soon be a woodshop and ceramic studio. We put windows and skylights throughout the building, replacing the vertical cracks that let only slivers of light in for the past 200 or so years.

The shape within the frame remains, but the air that flowed through it like water through a river, has surely been fully turned over. Already, the newly brightened space has illuminated a life unimagined by the original builders, including family yoga, the beginning of a writing and drawing workshop, the penciling of portraits, the playing of boardgames, the making of maps, a happy Pearl and a sleepy Pearl, and the curiosity of two families embarking on new adventures. The barn is made of pieces that were and are and will be. Are we so different?

Our first Of A Kind Collection of 2022 is bursting with character! Each of these collections allows us to dig around and find treasures within treasures. Every discovery holds a bit of the past, and the story and marks accumulated. They are a joy to put together and harken back to the best part of our origin story – the gathering of old things and the reimagining and reworking of them into once again useful objects.

Hand Mulled Ghost Green Watercolour Paint!

We made two small batch sets for painters. The first is the Petite Paint Set, which contains a pan of hand mulled Ghost Green watercolour and a brush rest. The other is a set of 3 Brush Rests for those of you with more than one brush or pen in use!

Our watercolour is made from Wissahickon Schist that was pulverized when digging the well for our barn. Made from rock, the paint is gritty in texture, and a warm, earthy grey green. This paint is in Bioplastic Pans, made by Poems About You, that fit in our Painter’s Palettes. 

Bioplastic pan of Ghost Green Watercolour.	The Wissahickon Schist was pulverized when digging the well for our barn.

Wissahickon Schist – also known as Trash Stone – makes this gorgeous ghost green colour.	I transformed the pre-ground pigment into paint, which is part of our Of a Kind Collection!

A page of my left-handed #100DayProject in my Anselm Sketchbook.	Portrait of my family in Ghost Green.

Printable: Paint Pan Packaging

We have made this paint packaging available so that you can package your own handmade paint. As it is, it is designed to wrap around the Bioplastic Pans by Poems About You, although you can adjust and be creative about your uses and sizing!

Download the Printable PDF

Handmade Brush Rest made from Reclaimed American Chestnut!

The Brush Rests (here in a trio) are made from extinct* American Chestnut beams that – for nearly 200 years – held up our barn (read about our barn restoration here). Walter turned them into barn studio doors and made these delicious little brush rests with the scrap – they fit perfectly in the Sendak pocket and may just make clean up a touch easier next time!

*Read more about the blight on the American Chestnut here.

Our Brush Rest, Hand Mulled Paint, and Tilda Painter’s Palette together!	I’ve been using my brush rest also as a rest for my vintage dip pens, so we're also offering a Trio of Brush Rests!

The barn – before restoration!	These American Chestnut Tree beams, born in the 1700s, held up our barn for nearly 200 years.

Walter used his Alaskan Saw Mill to mill down the beams.	We’re excited to share a portion of this beautiful reclaimed wood in the form of brush rests!

Mystery Boxes!

They are back! We’ve sifted through our misfits: merry mishaps, prototypes, and items riddled with character – imperfect but fully functional. We’ve have grouped them together into themed mystery boxes at nearly half price! Though not for the faint-hearted, each set is useful and nearly half price. Enjoy the mystery and the gifting potential: one for you, one for me, one for you...

These boxes are perfect for the indecisive (who love Peg and Awl) or for those who just love a good mystery.⁠ The Desk Caddies more character, knots, holes and markings – more evidence of the wood’s prior life.

Each box contains an assortment of related and similar-valued items – the photographs illustrate the theme and sample items within each box, but not necessarily the particular grouping.

This set of Desk Caddies are part of the Desk Organization Mystery Box – these will vary in wood characteristic, engraving, wood type, etc.	Here you can see examples of the variation in the wood – these particular caddies are so special and filled with character!

An old favourite! This is our "Tabletop Caddy," an old iteration of our current Beatrix Artist Caddy.	The Kitchen Mystery Box includes a variety of products, including decoupaged candleblocks – one of our first products!

Vintage Textile Pouches and Vintage Bag!

We've transformed two favourite antique quilts (one is well-worn, soft, and frayed and the other, unfinished and crisp!) into useful pouches lined with waxed canvas. These are often one-of-a-kinds – the textile patterns and designs used within one patchwork square are unique from another!⁠

We've done our best to divide the pouches by similar qualities so you may have an idea of the one that will arrive on your doorstep, but if you love mystery, the green quilt especially will peak your interest. ⁠

The 1800s quilt, well-loved, and in the colors of Pearl (our puppy!).	The assortment of vintage textiles, including our two favourite antique quilts.

Each pouch is lined with waxed canvas to reinforce and protect the textile from the tools and supplies that will fill the pouch. These pouches are also finished with vintage zippers.	It can be sad to cut into a vintage quilt, but wonderful to give it new life!

This quilt was started in the 1930s and never finished – we transformed it into pouches lined with waxed canvas!	This collection also contains one repurposed canvas tote that was originally designed with a drawstring closure – we’ve adapted it with vegetable-tanned leather straps and a waxed canvas pocket!

A Kickstarter Project! 

Take Your Time Loving Me 

This is a book about unexpected shedding(s).

Transformation.

And about the time Søren, then 3, said "Mama, take your time loving me"

4 October - 3 November

Lots of great rewards for backers including some of the treasures below!

To-nite!!!!

 Someone that I do not know whose name is Hadley, ( I found her shop ), collected a box of goodies for me when she returned home (near me) from New Zealand to clean out her family's olde home. Her dad is a friend of my mom. This is the connection. I know her name mostly because it was in the vintage Cinderella book that I read to Søren a few nights ago. I do not know whose family she boxed up for me, but in it (in addition to children's books) CDVs, photograph albums with tin types &c, daguerrotypes, autograph books &c. 

Yes, a TRUE box of treasures. 

 

 Went to the fleas yesterday with Angela ( www.greatestfriend.etsy.com ) and her Joel and new little Rowan and of course, Søren and Silas. Though the heat was barely endurable, I made it out of there with a stash of wonderful fabric - some dating back to the 1800s that is quite lovely and inspiring me to come up with something special...

Peg and Awl + Art in the Age at Paxton Gate August 31, 2012 in San Francisco, CA!

a mystery, for now...

 It has been nearly two years since our last adventure at Art in the Age (marked, nearly, by the birth of Silas!) 

Join us this Friday 4 May for the launch of Edible Backyards with art, Philadelphia gardening history and some new Peg and Awl objects!