Friday, August 8, 2014

Hands Up + A Hello.

As mentioned here, I'm on a short hiatus as I rethink the direction I'd like to take this site. I'll be back soon (most likely late next week or early the following), but for now, I'm wishing you a wonderful few days ahead from afar.


In the meantime, a few favorite posts from the past:

Happy Friday. Be back soon.

Photos via Max's Instagram.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

POV: Rich.

POV ("point of view") is a series that addresses many of the same themes covered in my Equals Record column: growing up, saying yes to adventure, learning to embrace a quarter-life crisis. Each POV entry will include a photograph and a short reflection based on what’s pictured. While my previous column focused largely on ideas, POV focuses on moments - glimpses, glances, tiny stories. 


We were five or six when my childhood friend Jo and I decided we’d like to be shopkeepers. After school our mothers would take turns bringing us home to play til late afternoon, and we’d scour our houses for items to “sell”: baby clothes, plastic dolls with missing limbs, yellowed greeting cards, items pilfered from our parents’ desks: paper clips and notepads, heavy metal staplers.

We’d assemble our wares, name our prices, negotiate with each other over the value of things broken and old. Then whoever was the shopper would “buy” something (usually with pennies or pastel-colored Monopoly bills) and take it “home” (usually to the other side of the room).

This never got old. We restocked, renegotiated, repurchased, and rejoiced until one of our mothers arrived and it was time to leave. Then we’d go home and eat dinner with our families, take baths and go to bed feeling rich with our things.

Friday, July 25, 2014

Growth.

Below, a couple snaps from last week, taken at the beautiful roof garden at my family's vacation rental in Williamsburg. (That's my nephew Dash at top, taking in the sights.) As I mentioned in this post, I'd never seen him walk until this most recent visit. I loved watching him teeter and totter and run in his neon shoes, arms in the air. It made me think: next time I see him it'll be Christmas — he may be talking by then, or running sprints. He may have grown a foot taller. Nothing, at this point, would surprise me.


Speaking of steps, I'll be taking one of my own in the next couple of weeks. I started Sho & Tell three years ago (July 5th to be exact) and I've loved watching it grow. Sharing my writing here and becoming a part of such a close-knit and supportive online community has been, without a doubt, one of the most gratifying experiences of my career — and my life — thus far.

But I've changed a lot in three years, and I think my blog should reflect those changes. I've spent a lot of time over the past few months dreaming of what I'd like to do with this site, and I'm finally ready to put those new ideas into place. I'll be posting a new POV on Monday as usual, but will be taking the rest of next week off to rethink and redesign.  I'm looking forward to returning the first week of August, and sharing my thoughts with you. If you have any to share with me, I'd love to hear them! (To start, I'm thinking more original content: about books, about growing up, about nontraditional choices and people who live by them.) 

In the spirit of my very first post, here's to new adventures always. I'll see you next week; until then, wishing you a weekend full of wonders. 

Thursday, July 24, 2014

True Selves.

The This Is Me: Self Identity Project encourages teenage girls to rethink what a selfie should look like, and gives them the tools to take portraits that are bold, creative, mindful, and adventurous. (As a fan of anything involving foliage on faces, I particularly like the first one, pictured below.) 

"It's about playing with different ways of looking at one's self and that there's more than one way to...look beautiful," says artist and project co-founder Simone Darcy. "We wanted to give them confidence that they don't have to fit a specific mold and do what everyone else is doing on Facebook." 


Read more at the Newcastle Herald, here. Thanks, Design Taxi. 

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Whiskey Business.

The most beautiful whiskey cups in the world are made in Brooklyn by Shino Takeda. I bought one this winter at General Store in Venice (which might be the most beautiful shop in the world), and I keep it in my room because storing it behind cabinet doors just wouldn't be right. See more of Shino's work, here.


More items for purchase at Shino's World on Etsy, here. Happy Wednesday.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Sprouts in Space.

In case you're wondering what you're looking at: that's a bouquet of flowers and a 50-year-old bonsai tree traveling through space on helium balloons. Launched approximately 90,000 feet in the air by Tokyo artist Azuma Makoto and his team of ten, the journey upward was documented with the help of six Go Pros, two GPS tracking devices, and many sets of flabbergasted eyes. Reflecting on the accomplishment, Makoto tells T Magazine, "I always wanted to travel to space."


Read more at T Magazine, here. Images by Azuma Makoto.

Monday, July 21, 2014

POV: Little.

POV ("point of view") is a series that addresses many of the same themes covered in my Equals Record column: growing up, saying yes to adventure, learning to embrace a quarter-life crisis. Each POV entry will include a photograph and a short reflection based on what’s pictured. While my previous column focused largely on ideas, POV focuses on moments - glimpses, glances, tiny stories. 


The other night on the Grand Street Waterfront, I shared a bench with a family whose two young sons were playing on the rocks near the water’s edge. I’d left my apartment in hopes of filling my mind with anything other than the worry it had been steeped in all afternoon, which had something to do with the completion of this blog post among much more pressing deadlines, and the arrival of certain checks before the first of August, and the fact that my visiting nephew had cried for the second night in a row when I’d left before dinner, causing me to second-guess my decision to live thousands of miles away from a family that had grown to include members who were startled to find that I didn’t in fact live inside a telephone.

“I want to throw rocks,” announced one of the little boys on the waterfront, his fingers already grasping at pebbles. His mother gestured toward the river and he heaved in a handful that landed in droplets around his ankles. Minutes later, his father joined him, looking for flat stones, explaining how to skip them. It was like magic, he said, watching them graze the water and spring back up again.

I watched, too, even though it was getting dark, even though I had writing due in the morning, even though friends were coming over in an hour and I had no idea what time it was. 

It was all strangely hypnotic. Hands scooping gravel. The river glinting gray and orange. The shrieking of little kids drunk on summer, making things fly.

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