design

I COULD LIVE HERE: LEANNE FORD’S STUDIO SHED

by Michel Van Devender May 21, 2021

Ahhhh…. a creative space… it has been top of mind for me, especially since COVID. Short of moving to my own apartment, which I have threatened to do by the way… #momoftheyear, it seems like a more realistic and economical option. I imagine this magical, mystical place where I’m all alone, can hear my thoughts and feel inspired to make and create. In this place that only exists in my mind, there are no dirty dishes, no empty food wrappers, no soiled, smelly shoes, no worn clothes scattered on the floor. Absolutely none of this. Only beautiful, collected and created things.

For the past seven years, we’ve lived in modern homes with open floor plans and multi-functional, efficient spaces. We’ve intentionally designed our new homes with the goal of using the square footage, with very little wasted space. And in case you didn’t know, that’s code for nowhere to go to get away from everyone! It seemed like a great idea until the pandemic, and I’m sure when life is back to all the people leaving for work and school, it will be fine again. But for now, I cannot stop dreaming of my very own DETACHED studio space.

As if I’m destined for torture, I’m scrolling on the Domino website and find a recent feature where Leanne Ford shares the process of converting her Pennsylvania henhouse shed into a dreamy rustic pottery studio and creative space. I. Am. In. Love! I would actually live in your shed Leanne and am available to move in right away. Just add a cute little vintage daybed with a French mattress. I think it would fit the decor nicely, don’t you? The gorgeous images have me transported, in fairy-tale fashion, to a studio paradise. As I read through the story, it just got better. Much of the materials used for the rehab project were found in the home’s basement and shed – french doors, terracotta tiles, a bar cart, vintage art, etc. I mean, what the luck! In the older, historic homes I’ve owned, there was nothing so cool and usable left behind.

Leanne goes on to say, you can convert a shed used for storage into a place you’d want to hang in a matter of a weekend. Hmmmm… I’m not so sure about that, but I guess she hasn’t seen our container shed or have the dilemma of figuring out where to then store all of the necessary and practical items in said shed. Albeit, her shed looked to be chock-full of actual junk and required a big clean out and extensive clean-up. I’m sure she also has other storage options.

I do love the Fords, their enviable style and how they make everything DIY look so chic. Who else, but Leanne Ford, can clean a filthy shed in a top to bottom all white outfit? For more details on the renovation process, check out Domino’s full story and the Ford’s video. Endless and lovely Leanne Ford inspiration can be found on her Instagram account – @leannefordinteriors and her website – leanneford.com.

•All photography by Erin Kelly for Domino.

OUR HOUSES

THIS OLD HOUSE OF MINE

by Michel Van Devender January 23, 2020

As time steadily marches onward into 2020, I’ve been in my typical beginning-of-the-year purge and organize mode. In the process of decluttering and tackling the mountain of papers, I ran across these photos of our previous house that were published in a local magazine, Charlotte Home + Garden, in April of 2012. I unexpectedly found myself being swept up in a wave of sentimental emotion.

As I stepped back in time, turning the glossy magazine pages, I was bombarded by flashbacks of our family living in the house. An entire spectrum of feelings swelled inside of me, as I grappled with the overwhelming nostalgia. After eight years and a total renovation, we sold and quickly moved onto the next project, our current house. If only I could go back in time and write a letter of appreciation to this old house of ours, thanking her for embracing and sheltering our family, providing a safe, beautiful place to haven, love and create! This house was a reflection of who we were at the time. Our homes often tell a story of our lives… how they are, and then before we know it, how they once were, memories like DNA stored in the walls and floors. I always tell my kids that home is wherever we are, together. I do believe this, but in this moment I find myself grieving this home, five years after we’ve moved… reflecting on what once was.

So much has changed since these images were taken – the passage of time, our family, where we live, my design aesthetic. It’s wild to look back at images of our house from nearly a decade ago…. the saturated color, the pattern layers and mix, the painted pink and orange striped bathroom, the bold graphic wallpaper, the dark lacquered walls, the textiles, etc. I still love so much about that old house, the lively interiors, the fond memories, the little red heart my husband painted on the wall in the corner of my middle son’s room. Two of our boys were born at a hospital a couple of blocks away and brought home to this 1920s two-story house. At the time of the photo shoot, my youngest son was still a baby, and oh how much I loved his little sunshine yellow nursery. In a corner of that room, we spent some of the sweetest hours rocking back and forth together in a wooden glider. The interior design was perfect for the house and for that time in the life of our family. The memories and the interiors are so closely intertwined… all denoting a point in the past.

The passage of time is such an odd thing. Looking back, it seems like yesterday that we were there in the house, and then at other times, like it was twenty-something years ago. The familiar and reliable rhythm of good ole time, marked by the relentless clock ticking and tocking forward… always rotating directionally clockwise. The steady sound of it is deafening. I cover my ears to avoid the painful reminder of time passing. Time is an enigma. And perhaps, it’s the enigma of life. Much of the present seems to creep by in slow motion. There have been too many times to count mothering toddlers that I silently moaned and cursed time, indignantly claiming that hours had been added to my already long day. And then, glancing back in the rear view mirror, it’s all happened at a frenzied, warped speed. The lines are all blurred and time has been manipulated with exposure photography. You attempt to capture all of the moments by taking all of the pictures and writing down all the things, somehow forgetting so many of the details. What kind of cruel joke is that? I feel like the past thirty years of my life have been sandwiched into a ninety minute movie, a B movie at best, only some of the highlights made the final cut. The remaining memories are carelessly strewn across the editing room floor. As the movie is projected onto the big, white screen, I watch in disbelief as the rapid change occurs in each character. I’m here, right now, in the present, frantically crawling around on that cutting room floor, attempting to gather each moment in hopes of splicing them back together so I can see the missing parts of the story. It’s a fruitless attempt at best as the reel cannot hold it all. There’s no way to change the flow of time. So much is seemingly lost.

And ironically, even with these sentimental musings, the fist-fight with time prevails. I seem to be impatiently pressing time forward, forging change, restless with the same old same old. On some level, there’s a discontentment and boredom, always lingering just beneath the surface, churning and bubbling. It sometimes feels like a throbbing tooth ache that cannot be ignored. Like my wandering soul will not be settled and is trapped beneath the weight of wounds from many different lives lived. I glance out into the world, and I see people swirling and swimming around at a frenetic pace, searching for their ground wires. I’m right there with them. We have all unconsciously stepped onto the big bus with the broken brakes. It’s the fancy new Tesla bus that’s programmed to drive in circles around a NASCAR track. In a world that seems to value the going, the doing and the achieving, there is less value attached to the being. Simply stopping to BE in the present moment.

When I finally pause, looking up from the magazine pages and awake from the trance, I can hear a soft, comforting voice whispering, “Be still my child. Be still. I know you. I am with you. I love you. I am here now. I am here tomorrow. I am here always.” It is by this Divine love and grace I have moments of clarity and a deep primal knowing. There is a realized longing for a connection to my timeless self and an Eternal Light, that which transcends time and space. And, it is in those moments, I’m calm and settled, continuously reminded that what I’m searching for is always right here with me. I am okay. You are okay. We are all okay. For that, I am forever grateful. AND, I’m also grateful for this old house of ours.

Magazine Article Written By: Blake Miller

Photography By: Chris Edwards

LIFE + ETC.

BLACK HOUSE BLUE SKY: THE INSPIRATION BEHIND MY WEBSITE

by Michel Van Devender January 16, 2020

Black House Obsessed

Welcome to Black House Blue Sky! Hi, I’m Michel, and I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve always had a fascination with black. Whether it’s the little, wardrobe-staple black dress or the stars magically dancing in the pitch black sky, I love the depth, mystery, neutrality, versatility and grounding effect of black. For years, nordic design publications have featured black houses, painted out of function (and probably form for their beauty – imagine a black house contrasted against the white snow) to attract and absorb heat in a frigid climate. If you’re interested in venturing down a rabbit hole, you can find endless examples on Pinterest.

In recent years, more and more dark-hued exteriors have been popping up all over the U.S., many of which are black – soft black, dark black and every shade in between. My design love for the black exterior runs deep as I opted for black on my own house, never second guessing or looking back. Black also tends to work well on many different house styles as you’ll see in the images below. When contrasted with a clear blue sky and a lush green landscape, it’s my idea of design perfection. So, love them or hate them, I think they are a classic and are here to stay!

Why A Blog?

When I first had the thought of doing a blog, it was rooted in a desire to inspire others by sharing all of my creative loves and passions, in one place, documenting the unfolding journey. I really didn’t know how this would happen, or what exactly it would look like. What I did know from the onset is that it would be my sincere hope to inspire and help others, creatively or otherwise. I wanted the blog to be image driven, reflecting my lifestyle and my love for design and all things beautiful, juxtaposed with authentic copy, telling the story of my life – the good, the bad, the real and the untidy, emotionally frayed parts too.

I’m A Quirky, Hot Mess

If you ever look at my photographs and graphics and think she must have it all together, I do NOT! Please know that most all of my images are edited to reflect my aesthetic and are part of my artist expression. On a really good day when I don’t feel like I’m going crazy, I’m still a clumsy, quirky, hot mess. I’m an analytical over thinker. I sometimes have a difficult time focusing and completing whatever task is at hand. I’m introverted and have social anxiety. I’m also capable, positive, curious, resourceful and creative.

On occasion, I do some pretty amazing things! I’m a mom of three, mind-blowingly wonderful boys and a wife to the sweetest, most patient guy. I’m always a parent and wife in training, trying to navigate and learn as I go. I love my people fiercely and tirelessly. I may be an over sharer… guess we’ll see. Through it all, I’m literally just trying to figure out what and who I’m being called to be.

Putting Myself Out There

The almost year-long process of creating Black House Blue Sky has been challenging. There have been so many steps – missteps, sidesteps, steps forwards, steps backwards. There have been starts, stops, detours and struggles along the way. All those months ago when I naively and enthusiastically set out to construct and build this creative idea I had for the blog, I knew absolutely nothing about setting up a website, a blog and had not written anything consistently outside of an email in years…. hello ginormous, steep learning curve.

I’ve always prided myself in being up for a good challenge, but bringing this idea to life triggered a paralyzing fear of failure, judgment and the “I’m not good enough” feeling. The putting myself “out there” has been a road block to my forward movement and progress. I’ve felt like a solo act on an empty stage delivering a bad rendition of an unintelligible soliloquy, with a spotlight illuminating my scars and the parts of myself that have been hidden from sight. There have been too many days than I’d like to admit that I’ve been sidelined, wrestling with bouts of self doubt.

Admittedly, like many, I’m my own worst enemy and a skillful master of constructing a critical and irrational narrative in my head. And then, there’s that caught-off-guard moment when I realized that constructing the blog is not the hard part. Eureka moment! The hard part for me is getting to the place where I’m comfortable letting go and putting myself out there, exposed for others to see.

The Real Work

Through all of this, I’ve been working to intentionally counter the relentless shit- show conversation I’ve been having with a big dose of self love, compassion, positive reframing and prayer. This experience has pushed me to get curious and honest about my fear of judgment and failure… and my perfectionism, facing and embracing that dark, shadow side. There’s freedom in learning to love all of our parts.

Believe me, this isn’t my first rodeo, and I’ve been here before. Slipping back into old, toxic patterns and behaviors happens. That’s what makes us human. I mean, I’ve read all the books before (special thanks to Brene Brown) and done a lot of previous work.

Honestly, the letting go of perfectionism is not the easiest nor quickest work, but I know it’s worth the ongoing investment. I’m worth the investment. It is also an ongoing process that takes time and patience. I do know for sure that perfectionism has never served me well. It inhibits me from being who I am, from being seen and from living fully into the imperfect human God created me to be, beautiful wounds, scars, messiness and all.

I’m also working on having some freaking grace for myself. Grace to make mistakes, to not have all the answers and to zig and zag on this journey. Aren’t we all deserving of that? After all, each and every one of us is a work in progress – exploring, floundering and faltering, trying to figure out our place in the world as a beloved child of God.

A New Beginning

So in more ways than one, I begin anew… a new blog, new work, renewed thoughts and patterns. This blog has been almost a year in the making from conception to this date, finally clicking the WordPress “enabled” red button. I’m incredibly thankful for this day and for the many people who have supported and cheered me on during this process. They have all showed up and been there at the exact moment I needed the encouragement. I’m literally doing a little, happy, celebratory dance over here! Hope you’ll join me as I begin this great, new adventure, learning and growing as I go forth into the unknown!!!