To-nite!!!!
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Posted In: art in the age · cocktails · kensignton co-op · mid-winter · party · peg and awl · philadelphia sculpture gym · solstice · spirits · tarot readings · the wild unknown
Holiday Orders!!
We have moved into an olde casket factory in Port Richmond, Philadelphia, as a result of Peg and Awl getting cramped in our home. With this and a pretty hopping holiday season, we have exceeded human capabilities of making more, and will no longer be shipping most new orders (placed after December 3rd) in time for the holidays.
This being said, some objects will still be available for holiday shipping until the 14th (or until they are sold out - at which point we will update the list)
These objects include:
-Waxed canvas pouches
-Waxed canvas lunchbags
-Waxed canvas totes in each colour (but limited)
-Weekender in slate (one)
-Book necklaces
-Garden markers
-And one of a kind listings
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This is Not a Sad Post
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.
So this morning I picked up a little book that says ALBUM upon the cover and thought of my Scrapplings project (from 2010) that hasn't yet taken shape (if you are reading this (does anyone read my words?) and you set me a Scrapplings package, I still have every one and DO plan to finish before I die) which will be a collection of collages created from teeny tiny scraps found on the floors of artist's studios. Anyway, I stray. I was looking at this book then flipped through the pages dated 1880. So many silly words in fine penmanship, somehow securing relationships, and not unlike Facebook or any number of friend collections, simply, a way for humans to declare their existence to others (and themselves). So weird. Because in not a very long period of time most of these words and photographs will be completely disconnected. If we are lucky some artist will find our remains (scrapplings) and make something new out of them, whilst still hanging on to some tiny taste of the past.
And then a letter arrives from Katie ( you can get one too: The Postmark ) that made it all worse. Or the same as always. (For I cannot go back far enough into my life where there is not a memory of the wonder (and sorrow) of time's travels) (The moment Silas was born tears welled in my eyes, this was the picture that immediately found me: Søren and Silas, two olde men in rocking chairs on an olde porch talking. I was sad because clearly, I was dead and not with them. Silas was seconds olde and my little brain took me to the end!)
But this isn't sad, though sadness does visit. This just is. And what we do, we just gather. We make new things and try to keep it simple. Simple? Well...
Someone that I do not know, her name is Hadley, (I found this: http://www.shescrafty.com/Home.php) collected a box of goodies for me. I know her name mostly because it was in the vintage Cinderella book that I read to Søren a few nights ago. She is the daughter of a man who is a friend of my mom. Hadley lives in New Zealand but grew up near where we live. I do not understand the entire story, but the box contains children's books, CDVs, photograph albums with tin types &c, daguerrotypes, autograph books &c. Yes, a TRUE box of treasures.
So this morning I picked up a little book that says ALBUM upon the cover and thought of my Scrapplings project (from 2010) that hasn't yet taken shape (if you are reading this (does anyone read my sparse blog?!) and you set me a Scrapplings package, I still have every one and DO plan to finish this before I die) which will be a collection of collages created from the teeny tiny scraps found on the floors of artist's studios. Anyway, I stray. I was looking at this book then flipped through the pages dated 1880. So many silly words in fine penmanship, somehow securing relationships, and not unlike Facebook or any number of friend collections, simply, a way for humans to declare their existence to others. So weird. Because in not a very long period of time most of these words and photographs will be completely disconnected. If we are lucky some artist will find our remains (scrapplings) and make something new out of them, whilst still hanging on to some tiny taste of the past.
And then a letter arrives from Katie ( you can get one too: ThePostmark.etsy.com ) that made it all worse. Or the same as always. (For I cannot go back far enough into my life where there is not a memory of the wonder of time) (The moment Silas was born tears welled in my eyes, this was the picture that immediately found me: Søren and Silas, two olde men in rocking chairs on an olde porch talking. I was sad because clearly, I was dead and not with them. Silas was seconds olde and my little brain took me to the end!)
But this isn't sad, though sadness does visit. This just is. And what we do, we just gather. We make new things and try to keep it simple. Simple? Well...
Someone that I do not know, her name is Hadley, (I found this: http://www.shescrafty.com/Home.php) collected a box of goodies for me. I know her name mostly because it was in the vintage Cinderella book that I read to Søren a few nights ago. She is the daughter of a man who is a friend of my mom. Hadley lives in New Zealand but grew up near where we live. I do not understand the entire story, but the box contains children's books, CDVs, photograph albums with tin types &c, daguerrotypes, autograph books &c. Yes, a TRUE box of treasures.
So this morning I picked up a little book that says ALBUM upon the cover and thought of my Scrapplings project (from 2010) that hasn't yet taken shape (if you are reading this (does anyone read my sparse blog?!) and you set me a Scrapplings package, I still have every one and DO plan to finish this before I die) which will be a collection of collages created from the teeny tiny scraps found on the floors of artist's studios. Anyway, I stray. I was looking at this book then flipped through the pages dated 1880. So many silly words in fine penmanship, somehow securing relationships, and not unlike Facebook or any number of friend collections, simply, a way for humans to declare their existence to others. So weird. Because in not a very long period of time most of these words and photographs will be completely disconnected. If we are lucky some artist will find our remains (scrapplings) and make something new out of them, whilst still hanging on to some tiny taste of the past.
And then a letter arrives from Katie ( you can get one too: ThePostmark.etsy.com ) that made it all worse. Or the same as always. (For I cannot go back far enough into my life where there is not a memory of the wonder of time) (The moment Silas was born tears welled in my eyes, this was the picture that immediately found me: Søren and Silas, two olde men in rocking chairs on an olde porch talking. I was sad because clearly, I was dead and not with them. Silas was seconds olde and my little brain took me to the end!)
But this isn't sad, though sadness does visit. This just is. And what we do, we just gather. We make new things and try to keep it simple. Simple? Well...
Someone that I do not know, her name is Hadley, (I found this: http://www.shescrafty.com/Home.php) collected a box of goodies for me. I know her name mostly because it was in the vintage Cinderella book that I read to Søren a few nights ago. She is the daughter of a man who is a friend of my mom. Hadley lives in New Zealand but grew up near where we live. I do not understand the entire story, but the box contains children's books, CDVs, photograph albums with tin types &c, daguerrotypes, autograph books &c. Yes, a TRUE box of treasures.
So this morning I picked up a little book that says ALBUM upon the cover and thought of my Scrapplings project (from 2010) that hasn't yet taken shape (if you are reading this (does anyone read my sparse blog?!) and you set me a Scrapplings package, I still have every one and DO plan to finish this before I die) which will be a collection of collages created from the teeny tiny scraps found on the floors of artist's studios. Anyway, I stray. I was looking at this book then flipped through the pages dated 1880. So many silly words in fine penmanship, somehow securing relationships, and not unlike Facebook or any number of friend collections, simply, a way for humans to declare their existence to others. So weird. Because in not a very long period of time most of these words and photographs will be completely disconnected. If we are lucky some artist will find our remains (scrapplings) and make something new out of them, whilst still hanging on to some tiny taste of the past.
And then a letter arrives from Katie ( you can get one too: ThePostmark.etsy.com ) that made it all worse. Or the same as always. (For I cannot go back far enough into my life where there is not a memory of the wonder of time) (The moment Silas was born tears welled in my eyes, this was the picture that immediately found me: Søren and Silas, two olde men in rocking chairs on an olde porch talking. I was sad because clearly, I was dead and not with them. Silas was seconds olde and my little brain took me to the end!)
But this isn't sad, though sadness does visit. This just is. And what we do, we just gather. We make new things and try to keep it simple. Simple? Well...
Someone that I do not know, her name is Hadley, (I found this: http://www.shescrafty.com/Home.php) collected a box of goodies for me. I know her name mostly because it was in the vintage Cinderella book that I read to Søren a few nights ago. She is the daughter of a man who is a friend of my mom. Hadley lives in New Zealand but grew up near where we live. I do not understand the entire story, but the box contains children's books, CDVs, photograph albums with tin types &c, daguerrotypes, autograph books &c. Yes, a TRUE box of treasures.
So this morning I picked up a little book that says ALBUM upon the cover and thought of my Scrapplings project (from 2010) that hasn't yet taken shape (if you are reading this (does anyone read my sparse blog?!) and you set me a Scrapplings package, I still have every one and DO plan to finish this before I die) which will be a collection of collages created from the teeny tiny scraps found on the floors of artist's studios. Anyway, I stray. I was looking at this book then flipped through the pages dated 1880. So many silly words in fine penmanship, somehow securing relationships, and not unlike Facebook or any number of friend collections, simply, a way for humans to declare their existence to others. So weird. Because in not a very long period of time most of these words and photographs will be completely disconnected. If we are lucky some artist will find our remains (scrapplings) and make something new out of them, whilst still hanging on to some tiny taste of the past.
And then a letter arrives from Katie ( you can get one too: ThePostmark.etsy.com ) that made it all worse. Or the same as always. (For I cannot go back far enough into my life where there is not a memory of the wonder of time) (The moment Silas was born tears welled in my eyes, this was the picture that immediately found me: Søren and Silas, two olde men in rocking chairs on an olde porch talking. I was sad because clearly, I was dead and not with them. Silas was seconds olde and my little brain took me to the end!)
But this isn't sad, though sadness does visit. This just is. And what we do, we just gather. We make new things and try to keep it simple. Simple? Well...
New Treasures
Went to the fleas yesterday with Angela ( www.greatestfriend.etsy.com ) and her Joel and new little Rowan and of course, Søren adn 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...
Williamsburg, A Kind of Twilight Zone.
I loved Colonial Williamsburg, VA, of course.
But I never got that feeling that sometimes takes over of actually travelling back in time. (There was a time long ago that I would go to the Philadelphia and walk around for hours with Ben Franklin's autobiography (and a random assortment of Philadelphia pasts) and read and imagine (easily) that I was there, nearly 300 years prior.) (This is something I kind of do(id) whenever I wander(ed), but mostly pre children).
I enjoyed it more in a Twilight-Zone way.
And learned a lot a lot - shoemaking, bookbinding, business &c. My most favourite was the brick house. Insanely fascinating and the numbers (10,000 brick fired each year - enough to make a chimney!) were beyond me. I am particularly good at small things.
The one story I was most fascinated with was the Bowden-Armistead House. Or the woman in it who, it was told, sweeps her porch every Sunday. The mystery here is, that when she was approached by a Rockefeller who wished to purchase her home, she allegedly said, "I am not impressed with your money." This was in 1926, or the project began that year anyway. So Miss Bowden-Armistead (or Mary A. Stephenson) would be 86 years old if she was exactly 0 when she was approached. So perhaps it is a daughter who sweeps. The home was built in the 19th century and endured some modernity like telephone wires that cast wobbly lines on the not dirt road, but then all was sucked back. Buildings, wires, telephones, plumbing. Everything around her into the colonial era. And she remained. And she sweeps. Or her ghost sweeps.
I really want to know and I kind of don't want to know.
you can see the house on the left...
Happy Birthday to me!
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They say the Cobbler's children go unshod, and so it goes and has always gone. In this house, the Cabinet Maker's family is certainly daily amidst unfinished home projects (including un-get-to-able books in boxes for the better part of a year awaiting a library...) Here Peg and Awl wins. BUT there has always been one thing that when without leaves me miserable. So this Bookbinder's family is ALWAYS with journals. And for a supremely happy birthday for me, I built myself a new journal and covered it with a vintage black jacket and some antique leather spats (with buttons) that we found in a Paris Flea Market a few years back. (AND Walter took us to Williamsburg VA this past weekend)
Happiness abounds.
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Peg and Awl, Art in the Age and Paxton Gate: One place one night!
Peg and Awl + Art in the Age at Paxton Gate August 31, 2012 in San Francisco, CA!
a mystery, for now...
Peg and Awl at Art in the Age, Philadelphia Friday 4 May
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!
Swing for One - an object in waiting...
We have been working on loads of new objects, requests &c and sending things off before photographing. Snuck this in before it got away so more single swings to come! Little Seaweed is showing this one off...
New much needed objects...
Well, our site is up. We still have a lot to do with it, so if you are reading this, yay! but, well, please do not look too close.
For now I wanted to post a new object that we just finished. Something that I really really need on my desk... These stacking boxes are made from 'Sinker Pine' - that is, pillings from the Baltimore Harbor that have been submerged under water for 80 years! It has a wonderful rainbow colouring as a result. We found some olde brass label/pulls and have stenciled numbers on 2 sides.
