Archive for: March, 2011

One Year.

Posted: Mar 29 · Comments: 104

Friday marked one year since I got it in my head that I should start a blog and published the first post on Manhattan Nest. I had something more exciting planned for this post, but as Friday passed into Saturday and Saturday turned into Sunday and all of a sudden it was Monday… well, that’ll just have to wait. I’ve been busy, busy, busy.

But I figured one year in blogland warranted something, so I’m piping up to send out a big cosmic thank you to all of you sexy folks who, for whatever reason, like this site. Because I like this site. A year ago, I never expected anybody to read what I had to say on here. I had no concept of the amazing amount of support and generosity I would end up getting from my little blog, and no sense of the fun I’d have writing it. I never could have imagined the number of truly special and important people it’s single-handedly brought into my life, and certainly no prediction of how much my little slice of internet real estate would come to mean to me. What started as a bizarre pastime really has altered my life in so many ways.

So thank you, for all of it. Regular commenters, subscribers, people who remember to check back once every three months—you’re all a part of what makes this fun for me. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand what brings people here or why they’d ever choose to stay, but I’m glad you enjoy it, kind stranger.

Now that we’re past the mushy part, I thought it might be both fun and terrifying to open a little Q & A. Anything you’re DIY-ing to know about the blog, or me, or my imaginary dog? Ask away. I’ll publish the answers in a week? Sound good? Awesome. Have at it.

Life
Tagged:

Tulip(ish)

Posted: Mar 23 · Comments: 60

I know that I have no business complaining about my generally good fortune in the secondhand domain, but a general rule does tend to emerge with thrifting: seek and you will not find. This is the frustrating downside of the exhilarating life of sifting through other people’s discarded crap. If I’ve learned anything, it is that trudging through thrift stores looking for that one thing really only leads to feelings of disappointment and ineptitude. Rather, I find it’s better to just accept the rare sparkly gem bestowed upon me by the mysterious thrift store deities and move on. If the price is right, buy now and figure it out later. You can quote me on that piece of stunningly bad decorating advice.

Which is all to say that even though I talked a big talk a couple weeks ago about that identity-crisis-stricken corner of my living room, plans quickly changed over the weekend when one of my upsettingly bad Upper East Side thrift stores planted a sexy little nugget of vintage furniture into my line of sight. Goodbye to my dreams of a snazzy bar cart and an Eames chair on a rocking base, hello dining table.

Yep, a brass tulip knock-off. Brass makes me happy. Tulip tables make me happy. $45 price tags for both of these things also make me happy.

What doesn’t make me happy? Doing dishes, for starters. But also that tabletop. I was really only in it for the base. After taking the table apart in the thrift store and carrying the base home, I almost considered just saving myself the extra trip and leaving the top there. Then I decided not to be a lazy brat for ten minutes. It’s a weird, vaguely rectangular size (32″ x 36″), and is awkwardly large in my little space. In a dream world, I’d have several extra Benjamins to throw around and hastily replace it with a 32″ round piece of  gorgeous carrera marble, or possibly some other type of natural stone. But from the very preliminary research I’ve conducted, this seems to be the sort of thing that will happen in conjunction with hell freezing over. So I’m still trying to come up with acceptable alternatives that won’t break the bank, look hideous, or introduce even more wood into the living room.

In the meantime, let’s focus on the positive aspects. Like the almost-tulip-tablebase. And the brass. Yummy brass. I’m a fan.

Blank Walls and Big Art

Posted: Mar 12 · Comments: 38

One of the more disturbing aspects (and unflattering angles) of my largely neglected living room is this wall:

Note the floors. Yes, they’re really that slanted. Vertigo victims should probably avoid my apartment.

Back to the wall. It is big and blank and ill-suited to any piece of furniture. Now, I’m not the sort of person who compulsively feels the need to fill every bit of empty space in my apartment with some type of furniture or display. Sometimes, vacant space in a room is just fine. But I can’t help feeling like this wall needs something, and I can’t help wishing that something was a colossal piece of artwork.

Unfortunately Franz Kline and Morris Louis aren’t taking my calls, so I think it’s time to get crafty.

To be clear: I’m not an artist. Yes, as a lonely 12-14 year old I dabbled in the under-appreciated fine art of scrap-booking and I can papier-maché the shit out of a balloon, but I wouldn’t flatter myself with a blank canvas and a fancy supply of painting paraphernalia. I’ll leave that sort of thing to people who think deep thoughts and possess such traits as talent and perspective.

But there’s hope. Possibly for big art, possibly for finally convincing some of you of my substandard taste, possibly for both. Because just a couple weeks ago, I picked up about 300 of these “Language Development” flashcards for only $10 in a junk store. Each one is a little over 6″ x 8″. Here’s a very small, pretty random sample:

The cards above were produced in 1980. But that’s not all! There are also illustrated cards from 1968:

The 60s cards are too kitschy for in here, but I’m pretty stupidly smitten with the 1980 set. They all spawn from the following exciting categories: Food, Colors & Shapes, Clothing, Household Items, Personal Items, Rooms, School Items, Tools & Hardware, Toys, Body Parts, Transportation, and Animals.

So not only can I brush up on my basic nouns, I think I can also create something colorful, fun, and huge once I decide on an engaging way to display them. To add an air of sophistication, I’m thinking of entitling my piece Postmodern Composition Number IV. Throw in a beret and a cigarette and I think we’ve really got something.

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