At Home, One Year Later.
Well, we made it- a year into a pandemic. I’m not in a celebratory space with this anniversary, but I do think there is an occasion here to mark the time and reflect. As hard as the last year has been for all of us, it has also been extremely clarifying for me. Somewhere between the combination of limited options and the in-your-face illustrative nature of last year, I have learned fast and hard that life is short. So let’s enjoy it.
A year ago, I was living in a cozy two-bedroom apartment with my dog Rosie. We were taking care of plants and shipping hundreds of candles while making obscene amounts of pasta and trying to enjoy the spring blooms as much as we could. It was a special time in life- and scary / uncertain / etc, as it was for everyone. Somewhere in that time though, the stars really aligned for us and a year later, here we are living in a bigger space, a small rowhome in Baltimore, and enjoying building this new phase of life.
Like so many other people I took the plunge into homeownership during the pandemic. My apartment was nice, in the perfect place, had lots of quirks (let us never forget the time I stepped on a frog at 3am), but it also did a lot for me - supported me, helped me learn how to stand on my own, and allowed me to find the space to be completely and totally me. However, my time for renting was definitely coming to an end. Making that transition in a time when home was so essential to us all has got me thinking a lot about what these spaces have done for me this year- how they have nourished me, brought me joy, and seen me through the hard days.
I’ve always been a homebody. I’ve declared that often. But this past year, home became more than just an indulgent place I could hide away. It became everything, like it did for everyone. Moving into this new home made that even more of a necessity, so and I designed and built it around the life I wanted to build. One of hosting dinner parties (for now my pastel portraits will be our primary dinner guests), sitting in the sun, raising plants, arranging flowers, creating still lives on the dining table and cozy corners for Rosie to lounge in. Really, this is her house. The rest of us just live in it.
Moving into my first house has prompted a new transition- the transition into homeownership and all it’s responsibilities, but also a transition into a more experimentally creative life. It is still very much a work in progress, but the process is so fun. A month of ladder stairs while my bf and I refinished and corrected some structural issues in the basement was at least a fun adventure. Meticulously measuring space to maximize work space / play space / run around room for Rosie has been a treat, and taking the time to get it just right ensures we’re investing in pieces and designs to last. Conceptualizing the house as a tree and designing around that has been a joy- the main floor pictured here was made to feel like I was sitting in a terra cotta pot surrounded by the books and plants and art supplies I need to help me grow, complete with a shelf we designed and built ourselves to serve as both a guardrail and storage and display space for books, magazines, legos, and plants. I painted a mural in the bathroom, installed shelving everywhere, got super specific curtains to let in light from the sky while giving us privacy from the street. The process is ever evolving, never finished, and always satisfying. If only we could wave a magic wand and patch the drywall in the basement.
We are creating a space to completely support the life we want, and to grow in. Maybe not a place to live forever, but for now, it’s perfect.
The pandemic has shifted a lot for me. At home and in the studio. I’ve learned to let go of perfection, timelines, and how things should be / were. We’re still struggling to get jars in stock, but we are making do with recycled jars and getting creative with our ceramic friends. We are trying to plan for the future and seasonal collections, but taking it slower, a step at a time, as we figure out what is doable and what is not. For now, we’re still going, getting creative, and even enjoying the challenge a bit. It’s the best we can do. All that’s left is to make do and appreciate the moments of pure joy in the day like having coffee in bed and watching Rosie follow the sun in the office all afternoon. It’s been a hard year. Possibly the hardest. But I’ll always be thankful for everything it’s given- home, love, and stripping away the fluff in life to expose the core of what we truly need.
