THANK YOU to all of you who entered the Rock Your Rental contest. Choosing a winner wasn’t easy, and while I’ve personally thanked each and every one of you, I’d like to thank you here. Right now. I couldn’t have done this without you, and I’m deeply grateful for the community we’re building. Cheers!

If you’re new here, let me get you up to speed. I created the Rock Your Rental contest so that I could help you break free from the decorative limitations of renting. Renting sometimes sucks, but unless you’re a college student or in an especially transient period, your living situation should never *feel* temporary, even if it is. Rock Your Rental is about giving one lucky reader the chance to transform their space ~ on their terms, within their budget, and on their timeline. And it’s giving me a chance to show all of you that no matter where you live, it should always feel like *home*.

I know renting can sometimes feel like living in aesthetic purgatory, and the sense of, “where do I even start?!” can be overwhelming. But there’s absolutely no need to ‘grin and bear it’ when it comes to your personal space. Personal space is just that… PERSONAL, and it doesn’t take bundles of cash and a couple of sledgehammers to make it feel so. More to the point, a space isn’t about the bits of ‘this and that’; it’s about how you want to FEEL.

So whatever your individual nasty happens to be ~ ugly fixtures, even uglier lighting, dusty don’t-know-how-long-they’ve-been-up window treatments, I’m about to show you that renting doesn’t have to equate to “ugh”. I’m inviting you behind the scenes for an intimate over-the-shoulder peek as I tease apart the story, get inside the minds of our winners, figure out where they’re going sideways, and best of all, what turns them on.

And the juiciest part? I’m giving you a peek inside their record collection, which will form the basis for my intuitive excavation and space orchestration. It’s what I mean when I talk about teasing out your inner theme song, and bringing the intangible essence of ‘you’ into tangible 3D form. It’s exposing inspiration and solving problems by listening.

So without further ado, allow me to introduce you to Mr. & Ms. B. Actually, let me introduce you to their bedroom, specifically. Photos are a little fuzzy, but you can definitely get the gist…

[Show as slideshow]

[View with PicLens]

This should be interesting, no?

Next we’ll meet the couple behind the images and break the project down. And later, I’ll bring you inside their record collection for some gorgeous inspiration, where you’ll get an idea of how to create your individual aesthetic fingerprint, by taking cues from what turns you on, auditorily speaking.

So stick around; you might just learn something new that you can use in your own space, renting or otherwise.

When you feel the fear and push on

tasting the lust that lingers

pushing through

- from where you used to stand -

you need to hold the course

keep moving, thrusting forward

- from where you used to stand -

reaching

pulsing forward, resting, pulsing forward

but always moving.

And when it’s only you and your desire

shining in the moonlight,

alone and silent on the wandering path

You must keep pulsing forward.

Because sooner or later, you’ll arrive right where you need to be.

And you might find, if you look up, that the path was always right before you,

leading

- from where you used to stand -

So

KEEP MOVING.

Your insides are twisted

coming outside

fraying at the seams.

And pushing ahead

pulls you under.

Hungry, and needing to be filled,

you give yourself over – listen for the voice that does not come

yet you remain

a stranger – suspended

but sometimes we break.

And you resist

hold

while what you need recedes.

So I say,

just BREAK

Unravel. Get naked in your ache.

Draw the line. And break.

“Here we are buck naked but where should we begin? When it’s not the flesh we’re after but the howling ghost within.”

So when you reach and what you need

is you

I will help you draw the line.

Hold the mirror

and show you

all the things you need but do not see

a home created

to unravel. Get naked in your ache.

So just break.

Fear calls; pushes, pulls, sets me adrift and leaves me…

I cannot anchor. The shore fades. There is nothing now but riding the waves. No way in, no way out. I just need to ride the waves. Sink deep. Let fear overcome.

Be consumed. Tasted. Swallowed.

And in the moments of my darkest fear; when the sun fades and the boat rocks

I know this;

I will return to shore when I give in.

I need to sink. Be overcome. Let go.

Descend to the depths,

find rest with Gilgamesh.

Then, and only then

will I be delivered home.

But I must remember this; the shore is not the same.

I am not the same.

For once I taste the fear and it lingers, dancing on my tongue

and I remember being cast adrift, remember the depths

there will always, always,

be a piece of me to miss.

Photography by Marc Lagrange
Framing by Erica Swanson Design

Resonance
Validation
To love and be loved.

TO BE HEARD.

And Music,
well,
Music is the soundtrack to the life we live
One breath at a time.

Music.

My seductress.

My nemesis.

The answer. The question. The breath.

She stays with me, by my side, and within me, pouring forth when there is nothing left to say.

Swimming those waves brings me pleasure, pain, heartache, desire, peace…

And an image. A melody, frozen, offered up to capture an essence. A state of being. A way of life.

In this way, design is, well, design is…

what I do. A vocation. A calling. A means of serving.

Do not let it fool you. For if you’re looking for the latest, the greatest, the next up-and-coming, you will not find it here.

What you will find, if you look, if you’re listening,

is You.

Design is my means of pulling you out; pulling out what lives within you, what is aching to be heard, the creative pulse I hear when you breathe.

For me, there is nothing else.

So… when you’re ready, I’ll be listening.

You’re a sweet melody, to be sure.

You have got to be you.

And when you are scared shitless
and the world is caving in
telling you
you are not enough

You have got to be you.

There is no one else.

And this is something
only you

Not your mother
Or your father
Or your best friend
Or anyone else
Can give you.

You have got to be you.

Because if you aren’t

You will return to your God
Or your Goddess
Or the great mother
Or the darkness from which you came

And this is all

This is all
That will be left

So promise me.

You will find
In your own unique way

A way.

Your way.

That you will
Leave your mark.

You must

Leave your mark.

As part of New Pictures 2, Marco Breuer’s images are being exhibited until August 1st at The Minneapolis Institute of Arts.

A man of mystery, Breuer prefers to let the images speak for themselves. But there are stories untold. Photographs aren’t really photographs. Perceptions are left unchallenged. Art, is all its grand emotion-evoking bravado, leaves you alone…

“What I don’t want the images to be is just kind of a checklist, where you get a handful of information and then it all resolves neatly, and you can file it away and walk away from it,” he says.
‘Motion’, courtesy Peter Cohen

Striking; pretty, even.

Breuer created the image by assembling a camera out of a 20 x 24 plywood box with a lens attached to the front and photographic paper attached to the back. With LED’s attached to his fingertips, he captured the light patterns created by the movement of his fingers in the dark.

While loading a 12-gauge shotgun.

How does that change your view?

Either one works.

This? This is the kind of room that waits for the dark…
Interior design by Todd Yoggy

Nelly Furtado had just released Folklore, the much-anticipated follow-up album to Whoa Nelly and wouldn’t you know, this delivery guy was ticked.

All these years later, I’ll never forget his words about the album that celebrated her multi-cultural heritage.   “What, she thinks she’s suddenly all international?!  What the hell does she know?! She’s a Pop Princess for crissake.”

Ouch.

I’d forgotten that peculiar moment until I came across an older article posted on one of my beloved interior design blogs a few months ago.  And then, shazaaaaaam.  Seems Cindy Crawford designed a line of furniture, offered exclusively in Canada at The Brick.

“I am growing weary of overpaid and over-valued celebrities being paid exorbitant amounts of money to lend their name to everyday products.  Sure, it is the nature of the beast; but aren’t we getting tired of lining these people’s pockets, when they are largely just figure heads?  Isn’t it enough that we pay to go see their movies or purchase the magazines they are featured in? …Sure, she is beautiful, a great model, and a savvy business woman (with her own skin care line and exercise videos, among other endeavours), but come on…she suddenly knows enough to design furniture?

Hm.

A month or so later I came across a tweet that brought me to the site of Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin, specifically to the chair Pharrell Williams designed as part of an art installation for the gallery’s 2008/2009 ‘Perspectives’ exhibit.
‘The Tank’, photograph by Guillaume Ziccarelli, courtesy Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin

From the accompanying text to the work:

“If we would spend love and time like we do money, we’d never go broke… But then again who am I trying to fool or what am I trying to fix?  I’m just a guy in the mirror trying to imagine what it must feel like to be young… headed into war.”

Dezeen also featured the exhibition.  At 83 and counting, some of the comments are truly jaw-dropping.

March 16th, 2010 at 4:44 pm
An embarrassment!! Emmanuel Perrotin Gallery — I call for your closure. Even if Pharrell puts out a Hd&M album, I wouldn’t rescind.

March 16th, 2010 at 9:06 pm
Absolute Joke. Shows what fame and money can do.

March 18th, 2010 at 2:33 am
Why do they always have to mess with other people’s (professionals) work? They are doing bad enough with their disturbing music why do they have to do it with design too. i feel threatened….

And my personal favourite:

March 18th, 2010 at 6:53 am
this guy robs people of their art in every territory. Im ashamed of The Emmanuel Perrotin Gallery. WHAT ARE YOU GUYS THINKING? this looks like a high tech japanese wheelchair. Its wrong. Its ugly, and shame on anyone who pays money for it.

Fascinating, really.

Of course, this leads me thinking…  this isn’t about the album or the furniture line or the art installation; this is about creative boundaries. Nelly Furtado is a pop princess. Period. Cindy Crawford is a model. Period. Pharrell Williams is a rap artist. Period. How dare these celebrities escape the boundaries we’ve so carefully constructed? How dare these individuals try something new? How dare they gasp! expand their horizons?

At the most basic level, isn’t this really an issue of resenting success?

Isn’t this another facet of the ‘rich get richer and the poor get poorer’ argument?  After all, we’re spoon-fed successful celebrity endorsements because dammit, it sells more shit.  We, the unwashed masses, lap it up.  We want to be just like them.   Hell, we even want to park our asses on their sofas.

Or we don’t.

It’s simple, really.  Like it?   Buy it.  Don’t?  Keep moving.

But here are my questions for you: what was your first job? Flipping burgers? Mowing lawns? Baby-sitting?

Uh-huh.

And is that the only thing you should have the right to be known for?

Then there are the, “Dude, what the hell happened to my creative juice?” sort of projects.  Like, crickets.  As in, “I got nuthin’”.

Except deadlines loom, creative juice or no.

So the moment before I’m ready to fall to my knees and pray to the creativity Gods, I take a break and have a shower. Somehow being naked strips me of my creative pretenses.

And sure enough, somewhere between my rinse and repeat cycle, there’s a lightening flash.  Truly.  I mean, THE WHOLE ROOM.  In vivid colour.  Every last detail in my mind’s eye.

Mojo is like that; a slow burn, warm and steady in its heat or an unpredictable volcanic eruption, blindingly intense and unforgiving in its urgency. And I tend to forget this when deadlines loom.

But the heat comes, every time.

Behold the Before:

Behold the lightning flash:

Volcanic.