Artist of the day: Clare Turlay Newberry

Let's face it: when I talk about an "artist of the week," it's most likely going to be an illustrator. Not that an illustrator isn't an artiste, etc etc, but you know what I mean! One of things I've come to realize is that illustrators hold a special place in my heart. Holed up for ohmyfreakingoditsnycslargestblizzardeversnowstormjuno  the blizzard that wasn't, I was browsing Etsy, when I came upon these lovely cat drawings from the 30s.

Claire Turlay Newberry was born in Oregon and began drawing cats at the age of two. Later in life, she went to art school here and there, but never finished. At first she wanted to be a portrait painter but once she achieved success in cat-drawing, she never looked back.

I love the limited color palette (the smokey grays, negative space, and a hint of red) and how well-observed her cats are. Of the seventeen books she wrote and illustrated, fourteen of them featured cats as their main subject.

And then we got a rug. ;)

To take a brief respite between two crazy open hours, we fled to Long Island for the night. It's always fun to see my mom's progress on the house (most recent was a beautiful kitchen renovation). For a while, she was flirting with the idea of moving somewhere grander, but it seems like she's committed to staying put. This time, we were greeted by Victorian bamboo side table in the front sitting room (a small piece, but it makes an impact!), and told that an ottoman for the music room/den was on its way.

We had our board interview for our new apartment recently, and it was casually mentioned, in the course of talking about something else, that they have an "80% rug coverage rule" for sound-proofing purposes. Not being much of a rule follower (what are they going to do, send the rug police to our door?), I didn't think much of it, but I could tell it was making Molly a little anxious. On the way to my mom's, we had driven past a rug store with a sale sign in the window (John Khalil Rugs), and we thought it could be fun to check it out.

We headed immediately for the antiques section, and John, was patient and helpful as we poured through rug after rug. We flagged about twenty initial candidates, with the goal of evaluating them again in a second round, narrowing our choices, and then...

Molly and/or mom noticed a sloppy pile of rugs near the center of store, and tugged at the edge of one of them for a better look.  "What are these rugs?" they asked.

"Oh, very special," said John, not missing a beat.

Apparently, these were the rugs that had been flagged for Ralph Lauren to use in their window displays. 

"This is our oldest rug," he said unfolding the rug Molly and Mom had been trying to get a peek at. "Very special."

He unfolded the rug and we were struck with the amazing scene -- mother monkeys swaddling their children, stags, birds, lionesses killing. Throughout the main body of the rug, a swirling of pink vines throughout, a chorus of birds and four anchoring irises at the borders. The colors were rich and inviting -- rosy pink and wine, hints of jade, gold, and cerulean, cream-colored stags jumping against the deep navy background.

"It is all the stages of life," murmured my mom.

"It's beautiful," we all gasped.

"Oh girls," my mom said, "you have to have it for your new apartment!"

And like that, the rug was ours. In a daze, we watched as they rolled it up again, and my mom went to the register with John. When we had recovered movement in our bodies, we threw our arms around my mom and whispered our thanks. As if anything we could say could repay the generosity.

Molly admires our 9 x 12 persian animal rug (circa 1900).

New Year, New Home.

They say that the New Year is a time of new beginnings. To start off the New Year, we made the decision to make a big change in our lives and put in an offer for a new apartment!

Leaving is always a bit bittersweet. I will miss the pine floors, the Victorian details, the corner windows, the quirks and the light of this place. I will miss the memories we made here and I will miss the community we formed with our neighbors. I will miss our current neighborhood to be sure.

But I won't miss Molly crawling over me each morning to get out of bed, the constant breaking of glasses and bowls from the slightest movement near little dish rack, the minuscule sink, and the barreling of big trucks down St. Marks in the early morning/late night hours to god-knows-where.

We're ready for this move, and we're much better researched than last fall, when a week after our wedding, heady and stuffed with wedding money, we rashly moved to a neighborhood where we hadn't even spent a day in prior!

We are moving to a new world for sure. Ditmas feels almost like suburbia, with its rows of freestanding early 1900s homes (with driveways, even!) and old-growth trees. While it doesn't have the amenities of Park Slope/Prospect Heights, and adds anywhere from 10-13 minutes to our commutes west, the neighborhood is cheerful and passes muster (some nice restaurants and bars, and more opening), our money goes so much further, and we are so excited for our 875 sq ft space in a 1935 Art Deco mid-rise!

I will post more about the new apartment soon, but it has amazing southern light, a tasteful kitchen with a full-sized refrigerator and stove (egads!) and a lovely eating nook (for Ms. Molly), a bigger tub (6 inches longer and 4 inches deeper but who's counting?),  a huge living room original parquet with a border inlay, a bedroom so big I don't know what we'll do with it, and best of all, a series of quasi-Moorish 1930s arches framing all the rooms. We're both a bit worried about the increased monthlies, but hoping that we can rise to the challenge. Cheers!

The living room, looking into the hallway and kitchen. Arches galore!