Here are seven:

Clockwise, from top left: (1) White cable kit gloves with citrine edges from Afra, $26; (2) Flourish linen pillow - Sun from sarahkusa, $58; (3) Block Printed Pillow Cover from Home Sweet, $35; (4) Wool blanket/throw with hand crochet edge from Namolio, $95; (5) Porcelain Tea Light Delight N.1 from Wapa Studio, $35; (6) The Sun Always Shines shawl from Laslo Pezlas, $125; (7) Eco Toes in golden vintage plaid from Infusion, $45

How do you make yourself cozy on snow days?

If you’re thinking that it looks like something designed under the intense pressure of a loyal helper’s eagerness to get crafty, spontaneously, within about five minutes, well then that’s because it was designed spontaneously, within about five minutes, under the intense pressure of my loyal helper’s eagerness to get crafty.

I had a pile of eucalyptus leaves left over from some flower arranging I had done earlier. Eucalyptus leaves are a bit pointy at the ends, and fairly round otherwise. As it turns out, they make excellent little hearts, which, naturally, make excellent, un-red, un-pink, Valentine cards. I like it that way: un-red and such.

I was cutting the stem end off. Jen cut them from the other side and we ended up with a bunch of little leaf heart “balloons.” Silly me; as everyone knows, stems make for far more endearing leaf hearts.

And if you’re thinking that it looks like I still haven’t taken down my Christmas tree, here, over a month past Christmas, I implore you to look again.

Because a Valentine tree might look uncannily similar to a Christmas tree at first glance, but as everyone knows, they’re completely different.

One such blog, Style Me Pretty, offers a tool for creating your own inspiration boards. For day-to-day design, I keep something more like an “inspiration scrapbook” (I like a hard copy to flip through), but using the SMP inspiration board tool sure is fun. And, as it turns out, it’s exceptionally handy if you’re planning any sort of special event, even one that’s not related to weddings. A special event like, oh, I don’t know…

]]> http://oomphasisdesign.com/2010/01/inspirationpalooza/feed/ http://oomphasisdesign.com/2010/01/winters-white-inspiration/ http://oomphasisdesign.com/2010/01/winters-white-inspiration/#comments Thu, 07 Jan 2010 02:03:42 +0000 Jennifer http://oomphasisdesign.com/?p=263 I’ve been thinking about snow quite often lately. I love the anticipation of snowfall, and I especially love it when the snowflakes start to flutter around after I’m already locked safely inside my house for the evening, curled up with a good book and a steaming mug of hot chocolate. It’s convenient when the snow and the night dance together, and what is more beautiful than waking up to a world covered in glittering white?! Come take a peek at my latest Etsy round up, and let’s see what these artists dreamed up when they were inspired by snow.

Snowblind :: Irene Suchocki

Can you smell when snow is in the air? It’s a scent both “clean” and icy cold, mingled with the promise of it. This is not the windy season of delicate caresses through your hair, but rather one of sharp bites on the nose and ears. The sun, when present, is light with only the memory of warmth. And when the snow does begin to fall it settles upon the land quietly, draping the landscape in a pristine blanket of white that thickens throughout the night. A blank canvas on which to paint the joy of tomorrow’s morning.

May all your big wishes, little wishes, and in-between wishes come true this new year.

6×6 no. 9, monotype and linocut

I’ve also been pushing myself to finish something that’s been working mostly in my head for a long while, only now I’m actually making it happen. Just a few finishing touches and I’ll tell you all about it. It’s all very crazy and mind-swizzling. You heard me.

Thankfully, there’s printmaker Hannah Skoonberg. I stumbled across her Etsy shop, which is chock full of gorgeous relief prints that focus on the spiritual, meditative nature of trees: beauty stripped to its bones. Seeing her work instantly makes me feel calmer; she expertly captures the quiet, stately beauty that I love about trees in winter. She’s a very strong contender for my next major art purchase.

Stillness, 3-color reduction linocut

Look! No footprints. It feels so tranquilizingly empty. I want to make snow angels.

Devotional, 2-color relief print

In the description, she says that Devotional (above) – at 18 x 24 inches – took her an entire semester to carve. I have a 5 x 7-inch block that I’ve been working on for a year and it’s still not done. Do you think she still has all her fingers, too? I don’t want to know. That would make her too splendid.

Meditation, 5-color reduction linocut

Not long ago, I made a pact with myself to be more brave with art and design, and life in general. I think I’m making baby steps — decent psychological progress toward standing more confidently behind my own ideas when presenting them to other people. But what’s struck me lately is the sting of disagreement, uncertainty, or rejection; even though I think I’ve got a pretty thick skin when it comes to criticism of my work, I guess when you start putting more of yourself into and behind it, you still bleed when someone else comes along and says “I don’t think that’ll work,” or “I don’t get it,” or “Yuck.” Ouch.

It looks like I’ve reached Be More Brave, Stage 2: shake it off and get back on.

You know what’s tough? Collaborating with non-designers/artists, which is not to say non-creative people, but people who tend to visualize things in black and white. Which is to say, they are quite literal when it comes to designing and decorating. Which I suppose is the opposite of imagination.

Normally, I can deal with this. It’s easy when they accept that you’re both creative and smart, and they trust your creative instincts to pull everyone’s ideas together in a cohesive, tasteful way. But some people get blinded their own perception, and they go and take your description of (blank)-inspired and interpret it to mean (blank)-themed. And they tell you so! You say, “I was thinking of a nautical-inspired design,” and they come back with “Yeah! I like the idea of a nautical theme!” MEGA-CRINGE.

I mean, I’m thinking about a design that layers textures and patterns and colors to evoke the idea of something, and they’re picking and choosing from every motif known to culture and making it fit a predetermined color scheme, which MUST NOT deviate from tradition. I just — it doesn’t… no.

And that’s why I’m suggesting that we take the word “theme” and burn it in effigy, and then forget it ever existed. Ever. Can we?

Still, I’m not sure whether it’s harder to work with someone who’s stubbornly fixed in one creative direction or someone who passes all control off to you because, to them, you are a creative GODDESS. I’ve always been one who liked working within parameters. I like the challenge of meeting a set of requirements in the most creative way I can think of.

The total lack of direction tends to throw me off; the total refusal to have anything to do with coming up with a direction makes me want to tear out my hair and jab out my eyeballs and run screaming like a banshee through the countryside. I’m not magical. Even mediocre design isn’t as easy as an incantation.

And yet, I suppose it ought to be flattering because is it not the hallmark of greatness to appear effortless and completely natural, as though what you have created was always meant to be just as you created it? That would be fantastic and also weird because very often, I believe I really have no idea what I’m doing.

To be trusted completely or hardly at all? To be free to roam about or to be met with resistance at every turn? It probably doesn’t matter: both are equally challenging. It seems the most important thing is to remember that thing about being brave. Shake it off. Get back on. Kill “theme.” And live creatively ever after.

four blue feathers :: Kirsten Finkas (Putnam Court)

When I was a little girl I would pick up discarded feathers — found pieces of an avian wonder and the calling cards of an animal not bound to this earth. Stiff enough for flight, yet soft as a whisper upon your cheek. As vibrant as a field of wildflowers punctuated with exclamation points, or as unassuming and unremarkable (yet so remarkable!) as camouflage can be. Layers of beauty wrapped around a spirit that knows the freedom of flight.

Northern Family Camp by David Hayward (Hayward Fine Art Prints)

The smells of the earth: the clean air, a crisp breeze, the early morning dew. The hypnotic dance of the campfire. The farther we go from civilization, it seems, the tighter we become with our camp company: clustered in a circle around a warm fire, telling stories, cooking food, making music, playing games, or simply sitting in silent contemplation. Why do we yearn for such primitive socialization, such rustic existence? Perhaps we’re drawn by an ancestral memory. And if we could read it, perhaps it would say that being submissive to the Earth is as much a part of the human spirit as discovering how to control it. That without knowing the most basic elements of community, we can never possibly be whole. That we must occasionally escape from life in order to survive it.

I was so happy to see the Dirt Po(or)ster designed by Roland Tiangco. Can you even know how much?

I can finally live with myself.