I Want an Eames chair!

            The Recent Paterfamilias wants an Eames chair.  He really, really, really wants one.  (And it’s making him feel materialistic and superficial.)

            But please, let me explain. 

            I don’t want just any Eames chair.  I don’t want the Eames lounge chair with ottoman.  (In my small apartment, where would I put it?)  I don’t want the Eames molded plywood chair, in red or cowhide.  (Although, I do actually want that chair, in either red or cowhide, but I’d have to remove an already established piced furniture to find a spot for it.)  What I want is the Eames Molded Plastic Rocking Chair. 

            Do I want the Eames Molded Plastic Rocking Chair chair for its slim silhouette?  Do I want it for its comfortable “waterfall” seat edge?  Do I want it for its smooth-riding hard maple runners or its “Eames Eiffel base” or its eco-friendly polypropylene construction? 

            No. 

            I want it because the rocker I current have in my baby’s nursery is fourteen inches wider and twelve inches longer than the Eames Molded Plastic Rocking Chair.  In my apartment, space is at a premium, every inch counts, I will move furniture into slots where it barely fits (and I’m pretty sure I’ve seriously compromised the internal structure of my couch doing so), so to have a stupid gigantic rocking chair that has all this extra padding and extra width and extra girth for absolutely no reason is simply out of the question, and, quite frankly, a little crazy. 

             So, I want the slimmer Eames chair. 

            Plus, it might be a little nice (and a little superficial) to respond to the question, “Hey, is that an Eames chair?” with, “Why yes, it certainly is.”

            (And for all of my loyal readers who still recall my last column:  I went out and bought that Federalist convex mirror last week.  And I’m pleased to report that it looks rather nice above the bookcase over which it is currently situated.)  


*Eames Chair series print by Third Floor Design

Look at these wedding photos ...and smile

Since I have Zombies on the brain (yes, pun intended) I thought I would share these special wedding/engagement photos I found of Ben and Julian by photographer Amanda Rynda.  This couple obviously shares a great sense of humor and a love of Zombie films.

Just another weekend fighting Zombies

Took a break from my usual weekend activities to help some friends out with a short film they were making.  However, I didn't help in the normal sense (aka decorating the sets) -- nope, this time I helped out ON CAMERA by playing a background zombie.

This is my third time playing a zombie, but my first time getting real make up done.  I had a full prosthetic cheek glued to my face. which was then painted to look like someone had taken a bite out of it.  Didn't hurt a bit, but it looked pretty darn gross.

Putting the make up on took about 45 minutes.  Shooting the scene took 10 minutes.  Taking the make up off.... sigh, lets just say, I will be going to work tomorrow with some glue and latex still stuck to my face!

Princesses

These are not a new Skårt design ....although...... hmmm....

These are drawings for "my other job" -- Top secret, but I will share with YOU because I get to go back to Disneyland.  Woohoo!!! Shhhhh.  More pictures to come next week.

Did I Make a Mistake?

            The R.P. is beginning to wonder if he made a colossal mistake this past weekend. 

            Now, admittedly, “colossal” might be a bit hyperbolic, but please, allow me to explain. 

            While trying to waste a few minutes, I was frequenting an antique store which I hardly ever frequent (because this R.P. tries, at all costs, to hardly ever frequent any antique store whatsoever), when I came across a mirror propped up on the floor against a bunch of other mirrors.  “Whoopdeedoo!” I can hear my readers exclaiming.  “You saw a mirror.  You must be very proud of yourself.  Perhaps the next time you see a coffee table or a magazine rack, you should throw a parade.”  But this mirror was a special mirror.  “Oooh!  A special mirror.”  Yes, a special mirror.  “Oooh,” I can hear my readers saying again, “a special mirror.  Maybe the R. P. thinks of himself as a literary Snow White.  ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the cleverest one of…’”

            This Recent Paterfamilias is beginning to wish that the readers in his head would just be quiet and let him get on with it. 

            This was a special mirror.  It was round.  This mirror itself was convex and a foot wide.  It was surrounded with a wood frame with small round orbs carved into it and an American Eagle, wings akimbo, perched atop.  This special mirror is actually a kind of mirror, one which this R.P. has been obsessed with for several years.  It’s called a “Federalist” mirror, it’s a staple in American folk art, and all the ones the R.P. has previously come across typically run anywhere between $2,500 and however much you want to spend. 

            Just for fun, I inquired with the shopkeeper how much she wanted for this one. 

            She said 350. 

            And the store was having a Presidents’ Day sale.  Everything was twenty percent off. 

            “So that would make it 280,” she said.  “Plus tax, of course.”

            “Of course,” I replied.  “Plus tax.”

            What a boon! the Recent Paterfamilias told himself.  For years he’d been searching for just this kind of thing, and then here it was, at a fraction of the going price.  It needed restoration certainly, but it wasn’t like it was falling apart, it wasn’t like the convex mirror was split in twain, making the viewer’s reflection something grotesque and unnatural. 

            And then the Recent Paterfamilias was forced to ask himself a practical question:  “Where am I going to hang it?”

            Hmmmmm.

            Now, I wouldn’t say that the R.P. and the wife of the R.P. are art collectors, per se, but we have some pieces, some good, some pretty good, and some crap, but really the point here is, we have everything situated on the walls like we like it.  We also don’t have an overly large apartment, so we therefore don’t have unlimited wall space.  Something would have to come down for this mirror to go up.  So which one was it going to be?  Who was going to get the axe? 

            Ultimately, I told the shopkeeper that I wanted to think about it, then I exited the store, leaving the mirror where it was, on the floor, and as far as I know, that’s where my mirror is now.  Unloved, on the floor, collecting dust and totally underpriced, simply because this Recent Paterfamilias was unable to make the sacrifices necessary for it, the mirror, to join his, the R.P.’s, collection. 

            This Recent Paterfamilias is beginning to suspect that he might have made a terrible mistake. 

            I miss my mirror. 

Which would you choose: Star Wars or Super Heroes

I can't decide which prints I like more, they are both so gosh darn adorable! And not only that, they are ridiculously affordable.   If you had to... which would you pick?

Star Wars Art print set by Loopzart on Etsy 

Super Hero Justice League Art print set by Loopzart on Etsy

Baby Luca loves his Skårt!

Flying Around the World Triptych in Turquoise - available at Skårtshop.com

Happy Valentine Day!!!

Instagram on the iPhone + Props in Poland  = Lots of photo fun today! 

Dreaming of Love

Heart a Flutters

Bunny Love

Shooting Another Commercial in Poland

I'm back in Warsaw! That's right, by the end of this work trip I will have spent more time in Poland in 2012 than in the US.  Not that I mind.  Starting to feel like home.  Been eating a lot of herring, and figured out that a nip of Vodka here and there DOES help keep you warm.

I don't have much to report.  But I do have the last commercial that we shot here to share.  Saw it on TV the other day.  Still have no idea what it means or what they are saying - but it looks pretty adorable!

Baby and Puppy Posting

It happened, I knew it would happen, I could have told you it would have happened at some point, but my dear daddy, the so-called Recent Paterfamilias, did not have anything to write about this week, or maybe if he did have something to write about, he did not write it down, which only leaves poor little baby me

--And me!

Yes, and Tedward, Tedward the intolerant Welsh Terrier, to fill up this column, and I must tell you that you cannot trust intolerant Terrier dogs

--Yes you can!

No you cannot

--Yes you can, you little human beast!  Spending your days chasing me around the apartment!  How dare you!

Do not listen to him

--Yes!  Yes!  Listen to me!

He is very loud, this little dog

--I’m not that little!

Please just ignore him, but, if I may get back to the topic at hand, I have faith in my dear father, the so-called Recent Paterfamilias, to formulate some manner of infinite wisdom to impart in next week’s column, which would be a nice break for this baby

--And me!

Yes, and you, now please be quiet, Tedward

--No!

Because it is overwhelming for a baby to write an entire blog column when she, the baby, cannot even speak in complete sentences outside of bababababababababa, which, I must say, should be considered rather advanced for someone who is not yet even quite nine months old

--I’m almost three years old!

Please be quiet, Tedward

--Sorry!

Thank you

See you next week

The End.

Building Blocks for Grownups

Everything But the Manual is a furniture system created by Dutch designer, David Grass.  It comes in the shape of a cube consisting of 177 identical oak building blocks that can be connected with bolt and wing-nut.

Despite the name, there is no manual provided, the only limit is your imagination.  

You can check out more designs and videos of projects here

It Starts with a Plan

I have a plan and I have a pile of wood all cut to size.  Now I just need some time and a super helpful handy husband to put it all together.  

Coming soon: My super amazing organized studio office! 

Baby Swaddlers and the Other Mothers

            As of late, my baby has gotten too old, and too big, for her swaddling blankets. 

This, as it turns out, is a good thing.  (Not for my baby, it must be said, but instead for my wife and me.)

            But please, allow me to explain. 

            One many occasions, I have personally noticed that these baby swaddlers, which are made of muslin or linen or some other such ridiculously soft and comfortable thing, are very, very popular with the other mothers (the other mothers?), but, ultimately, said offspring will outgrow these swaddlers, rendering them useless (the swaddlers, not the infants).  The infants no longer need to be swaddled at night, and they also no longer require a “bottom blanket” (for which these swaddlers are also popular) during story time or music class or “gymnastics” class or any other baby classes (such as they are).  Thusly, these muslin baby swaddlers are no longer of any use to anyone.  They have outlasted their usefulness.  They have now been condemned to the land of the infant useless. 

            Or so one might assume. 

            This, as it turns out, is not true. 

            This, as it turns out, is good news. 

            Even before my baby outgrew her infant swaddlers, my wife and I had begun commandeering these swaddlers for our own use:  as napping cover-ups. 

            These lightweight comfortable muslin swaddlers, fit for the skin of a baby, intended to keep it neither too warm nor too cold, are incredibly suitable for adult-sized cover-ups during couch-arranged naps. 

            My wife and I had been patient for several months while watching our baby slowly outgrow her swaddlers.  Now, the much-awaited payday had finally presented itself. 

            In fact, the idea had been broached to take more than one of her swaddlers (now that she no longer needed them, of course).  The idea had been suggested that we (the wife and I) take all eight of her swaddlers and have them sewn into a napping quilt.  The idea had been hinted at, once or twice, that, during one of my sundry infant classes, a couple of the swaddlers belonging to the other mothers (the other mothers?) might easily be secreted into my diaper bag and then smuggled out of there, ultimately to create multiple napping swaddlers, possibly one for every day of the week, or, perhaps even better, one huge napping swaddler, one that could cover much of our apartment, or perhaps even best, one single enormous napping swaddler that nearly everyone, yes everyone, could nap under.  Yes, this seems an admirable goal:  steal the swaddling blanket from every infant within reach, just so you could ostensibly provide napping-cover for yourself and all the rest of the other mothers (the other mothers?). 

            (All of this would only be possible, understand, given the assumed forgone conclusion that the babies of these aforementioned “other mothers” allowed these “other mothers” to actually, actively, nap, which they, the babies, historically and across the board, most decidedly do not.  The selfish little brats.  Thusly, one must assume that this behavior is intended so that they, the babies, might keep their napping swaddlers all to themselves.  It is likely some sort of global underworld conspiracy.  But who knows?  Maybe it’s not the babies after all.  Maybe it’s the other mothers.)