The STUFF Sisters

Pride and Envy

Maybe I take a little too long to complete projects, but hey, I’m occasionally drawn to other tasks. Like growing a business. And child rearing. And going to parties.

Long before I started my career selling art, I got hooked on needlepointing. My mother had done a great pillow I remember so well from my childhood, but that languished for years needing to be finished. I was in awe when I watched her work on it as a child. It now resides in my guest bedroom with a like-designed pillow my sister Casey needlepointed for me as a gift.

I have completed six pillows, one belt, and one holiday stocking for my husband, and I have been part of the pair of parents that attempted and finished a gorgeous stocking for our son. All this in my short life of fifty years.

I say short because needlepoint takes time. Maybe I take a little too long to complete projects, but hey, I’m occasionally drawn to other tasks. Like growing a business. And child rearing. And going to parties.

To this day, there is no machine on the planet that can needlepoint for you. It must be done by the human hand. Needle up through the canvas and needle back down, all while pulling wool or cotton or silk behind.

So, on Wednesday, I stood in awe at all that my friend Patricia had accomplished. I was transfixed by the artistry of her paintings on canvas and the forms themselves. The birds, butterflies, divers, and fruit held me in place. She had painted many of these canvases herself and had painted an original work to make all others from in the future. To scale and to size.

I felt like I was cheating my work as I stood midday during the work week at what was feeling more and more like an art show. It seemed like my sister and I should leave the small needlepoint store and take a leisurely lunch somewhere. A walk and possibly a nap. Art was all around me, and my friend had made it all. My envy of her talent has no end.

When we entered the store, she was stitching a piece of her own in the quiet. A diver entering a pool was swaddled in her hands. I believe she was working on one of the blue tones, of which there are many. She jumped up to welcome us, but I might have been a tad rude because I wanted to brush by her to see all the canvases tacked to the wall. Of course I hugged her, but it might have been too short, as I was impatient.

For me, needlepointing is quiet handwork. Some can stitch while watching TV. I can not. Some can listen to music. I can not. Some can stitch and talk on the phone. Not me. I do, however, enjoy stitching with others, but my last several projects have been worked on in solitary silence,

My greatest memory of stitching is when my sister and my husband and my mother were all stitching projects during one year. This was over twenty years ago. I had begged my mother to finally finish the pillow she had started in the 1970s, and she capitulated. All four of us would meet at my mother’s loft and stitch in silence, breaking the silence only to talk for a bit about current events or to gossip shamelessly. Then, we would drop back off into the quiet. I am always lulled by the scratch of the wool against the canvas webbing. It is soothing and rhythmic. I remember occasionally we would ask each other for help on the serious things: when to stop with one color and begin another or how to tie off a dwindling strand in a tidy fashion.

I stood in the quiet store and was so proud of my friend, She is a true artist in that she sees a future for herself in handcraft and all that that holds. She understands paint, and thread, and patience. She is excited to figure out the business of art, and it shows in her eyes and her smile.

Needlepointing is not knitting. it is not sewing. it is not cross-stitch. It is not crochet. It is not embroidery. It is needlepoint, and it holds me in its sway.

p.s. All artwork seen here is the work of Patricia O’Dell, who is building her needlepointing business under the name Mrs. Blandings. You can find out more here. I am partial to the particular blues she used in the wings on the peacock. Check out the close up below.

p.p.s. You can see her work at KC Needlepoint on Gregory in Kansas City, Missouri.

Bushel and a Peck

My daughter made this tile for me. It is a lyric from a short little song my Grandmother sang to me and I now sing to my daughter. Art makes me happy because when a person chooses to hand make something to share with a specific person or with the world, the love, passion and good intent stays with that piece forever.

The energy in each piece of art I have in my home feeds my soul. Today I will – once again – be surrounded by this magic because I live with art.

Pursue good art. Pursue good stuff…

Creative Gifts

I received this care package in the mail last week.

A gift of creativity is always appreciated.

It was unexpected. It brought me joy. It reminded me why people love getting gifts of art and creativity. Even a co-owner of a store, like me, dedicated to the mission of sharing creativity with the world, needs a reminder once in a while. The happiness it is spreading is immeasurable.

I had re-posted on Facebook an article about a recent study that found that coloring is good for adults. You can read about it here at the Huffington Post. Julie Cates, an accomplished artist and friend, had responded. And, I believe, that was where the seed for this deeply appreciated gift was planted.

Since my original post I have come across another post about coloring books intended for adults. Again, it made me happy to know that coloring, this seemingly “for children only” hobby, has many benefits. You can find out about the newly published coloring book here, coloring book for adults.

So, it turns out coloring is good for people of all ages. And, I for one, will be coloring more often and well into my years. Join me.

Talent & Beauty

This is a story about cookies. But first, I need to admit to feeling a little smug about brownies until cookies brought me back to Earth.

On Valentine’s Day, I admitted on Facebook that I liked Valentine’s Day and always have. Since long before boyfriends, a husband, or a son. My dad and mom both celebrated the day and included their children in the lovefest. Candy, flowers, small gifts. Tokens really. Nothing big.

In addition, my dad’s mother loved holidays with her whole heart, and, after she moved out of her last home and into a care facility, I found a box titled “non Xmas decorations” in a closet, written in her majestic cursive. I asked other family members cleaning out the house that day if they were interested in the contents. A resounding “no” echoed back to me.

I kept the box and opened it much later. Single and simple decorations were found for most holidays. Easter, St. Pat’s, and a touch of Halloween. She and my grandfather were farmers, and spending money on holiday decoration was not a high priority. Many of the decorations still held price tags from the Five & Dime store in their small town. One Thanksgiving turkey still says 29-cents on his belly when I set him out every November.

I have not been as good about decorating the house as I was when I was first married or as over-the-top as we used to decorate for the non-Christmas holidays when our son was little and growing up. He loved unpacking the small boxes of pumpkins, turkeys, plastic eggs, or hearts. He let me tell him stories about where things came from, and he had real ideas when he was five and six years old as to where things should be placed. Amazingly, they were all at his eye level – our waist height! – and precariously positioned for the dog and cats. After he toddled off to bed, I would move them and make a big deal the next morning about how his “helping” me had inspired me to move them up in the room(s).

This past Friday night, I realized I had never decorated the house for Valentine’s Day this year. I have three items left – from my peak of too many! – that carry provenance from my past and I truly adore. With those decorations still upstairs and packed away, I decided not to beat up on myself. I thought that baking would take my mind off guilt. So I headed to the kitchen.

Brownies are my forte. And what could possibly be cuter than brownies cut into hearts? And cut with cookie cutters that my grandmother gave me? And in two sizes! Genius and cute. I was on a roll….

My pride ran away with me when I placed the freshly cooled and cut brownies on a bright white ceramic tray in an arching circle. Cuteness incarnate held in place with plastic wrap! One for each member of our staff and a few extras for snacking. I arrived at work Saturday morning with a smile on my face, ready to meet the day’s shoppers on one of my favorite days with treats for the staff.

It was a good day. Happy. Much talk about gifts being given and to whom. I even had a visit from a friend that is a “Bah! Humbug!” about the day, and he left with a smile on his face and told me his love for me has forever changed his view of “Gee, I’m Still Single Day” (his words, not mine). I choose to believe him.

When I arrived home, I was greeted by the most amazing display of baked goods ever to enter our home on Valentine’s Day. Handmade by dear friends. Each heart decorated in a pink and white theme with the perfect icing. A single bird in the softest blue. Our names on individual cookies. Such talent with an unwavering grasp of beauty. Each unique. Personally delivered to our home by the chefs themselves. Crisp wrap with a bow and ribbon.

My brownies paled in comparison to this food art. I stared at them in wonder. Then I ate one and marveled again. Light, not too sweet, and delicious.

The artistry of my brownies paled in comparison to these cookies, but the love that made them was the same.

You could taste it.

p.s. No photos were made of the brownies. It’s better for all of us….

We Love Art!

It may seem obvious to say that, at STUFF, we love art. Over 18 years ago, we started the STUFF journey, and our mission has never changed: to help you find the stuff that makes your home and your life extraordinary. Valentine’s Day seemed like the perfect time to for us to renew our commitment to artistry, artists, and art.

We enter this renewed covenant with a much deeper understanding of what will be expected of us. We know how hard it will be. We know how incredible it will be. We know how it will drain us, raise us up, and grant us amazing rewards. We know it will continue to be inspiring, never boring, and filled with unexpected discoveries and challenges. We renew our vows with our eyes and our arms wide open.

Please join us. We hope you will choose to renew your commitment to keep shopping at our store. We love you, too, after all.

To have and to hold from this day forward….

Casey & Sloane Simmons
Sisters & Co-owners

You Never Know

I have learned in the past year to not let ideas – and therefore chances – for getaways get by me. Life is looking shorter and shorter most days.

I left town for twenty-nine hours over the weekend with a friend. A road trip. You never know how much you need to leave town until you are in the car and rolling down the highway.

I was past ready to get out of town and away from some of my responsibilities. My traveling companion is pretty darn fantastic at pre-planning a road trip. Dinner reservations for the first night? Done. Snacks for the car? Done. Food and drink packed for late night cocktails and breakfast? Done.

I was the slacker as such. Well, I drove. That counts. There was gas in the car, a fresh oil change, and a music mix available with the punch of three buttons. Not as impressive as the rare mini bananas my friend provided. “Show off,” I said, as I bit into my first.

Art was what got us out of town. A desire to see a show that was closing at a museum in not so many days. It was the impetus we needed to spend much needed time away together.

I have learned in the past year to not let ideas – and therefore chances – for getaways get by me. Life is looking shorter and shorter most days. I am not known for my ability to relax, but I am willing to finally learn. Time away with friends has proved to be tonic for me and a great education in kicking back. Earlier this fall, I headed an hour south with two friends for a night of glamping – an incredible twenty-four hours away from our families and our to-do lists that felt like days, not just one day.

What was spoken one night well over a month ago while sitting in bar chairs – “Let’s go together and see that show!” – turned into reality because we made it so. My friend and I are both owners of small businesses, and the needs of those businesses can overwhelm and overstep. So, we danced right around them and carved out the time.

On the drive home, we kind of planned the next trip. A location was mentioned, a desire to go was announced, and we had just proved to ourselves that we travel well together. Quite well, actually.

I’ll be packed and ready.

p.s. All images were taken by me, and most are only small parts of some of my favorite pieces at the State of the Art exhibit that closes at the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Bentonville, Arkansas, on Monday, January 19th. A few are images of pieces in their permanent collection. Again, close-ups of my favorite parts.

People Not Product

The grand irony in our lives is that we own a store named…STUFF. We should have named it The Artist. From day one, we have focused on our artists first. Read the email for more and for great photos of many of our artists.

The grand irony in our lives is that we own a store named…STUFF. We should have named it The Artist. From day one, we have focused on our artists first. We have always encouraged them to follow their creative paths. We have always told them to value themselves and their work. We have always offered them access to our experience in the art-selling business as it evolves (and boy howdy, has it evolved). And we have always treated them as real people – not machines, not factories, not nameless, faceless, grossly under-valued workers in some far off land.

Have we had some rough spots? You bet! We are all only human. At times our stress or their stress has clashed. Do we disagree sometimes? You bet! We are all wildly passionate people. But we all respect each other and work together to move forward. To support the arts in all its forms. And in the end we are just like you: we all have to pay our mortgages, feed and clothe our families, and participate in our communities.

Last week we sent a note to our artists and asked for photographs of them and their families. These images are what were sent to us. Each time we opened a new digital file, we would smile and sometimes giggle and our hearts would expand a little bit more. These photos reflect them so perfectly. Their personalities come shining through. The love they have for their families, their pet companions, and their creative lives is alive in each and every photograph.

It is with our deepest gratitude that we share this “holiday card” with you, our loyal customer and friend. You support these artists and their families every single time you shop here.

We hope to see you soon.

Happy Holidays,

Detroit and Me

In March, I fell in love with Detroit. It has not dampened my deep commitment to my city, but I am now sharing the love. It is a great American city. Truly. But today I felt like I had been socked in the gut.

In March, I fell in love with Detroit. It has not dampened my deep commitment to my city, but I am now sharing the love. It is a great American city. Truly.

I have followed Detroit’s bankruptcy proceedings through many media sources. All reliable and non-biased. I live in facts and details in most of what I do, so this affair has been no different.

Today on National Public Radio they ran the next installment in what has been a long and continuing story on the Motor City from multiple angles and points-of-view. This was about the Detroit Institute of Art possibly selling its multiple-billion-dollar collection – which is owned by the “people of the City of Detroit” – to help honor the debts of the city.

I cried. I pulled the car over, finished my tears, and pulled myself together. I felt like I had been socked in the gut. I had just been in that museum at spring break. I had just talked about that collection and its curatorial staff at a meeting this week at The Nelson. I had just….

I could not get over the fact that the soul of the city – its art collection – was currently being appraised by Christie’s and was being considered for auction and/or sale.

Why can’t the Detroit Lions or the Red Wings or the Pistons be considered for auction and possible sale? Why is art, yet again, being called upon to set its people free?

Because that’s what it did when its people made Detroit its home in the first place.

The people of the City of Detroit slowly purchased the art for the people. Wealthy people spearheaded some selections. However, a curator told me during my trip that “everyday” people started and finished fundraising campaigns for many of the pieces in the collection. Groups of people. Committees. People who saw that art would bring so much to the people who were busy most days in big, loud industries building with their hands big mechanical things. They knew that people who worked hard with their hands and their bodies would be very receptive to art and her redemptive powers.

I’m still not at peace with this issue. I don’t know if I ever will be. I will continue to listen and learn. I am going to try and visit Detroit again very soon and eat in her locally owned restaurants, sleep in her locally owned boutique hotels, talk with her smitten residents, and visit her amazing museums and public spaces.

I don’t know what I will do when I enter an art museum that is devoid of its center of gravity. I guess I will figure that out when I get there.

Here is a photo that I didn’t post earlier this year when I returned from Detroit. If you want to see more of my photos and hear about that trip, click here.

Precision & Grace

It seems like every profession has a contingent of people who rally against it. Lawyers have a bad rap. Car dealers. The list goes on and on. I have even had people tell me to my face – while standing in my business – that retailers are the worst.

It seems like every profession has a contingent of people who rally against it. Lawyers have a bad rap. Car dealers. The list goes on and on.

I have even had people tell me to my face – while standing in my business – that retailers are the worst. They are “greedy bastards” just in it for the money. “No ethics.” “Stickin’ it to the little guy.”

That’s not what I do. That’s not what my sister does. And that is not what the amazing and dedicated artists we represent do. Their desire to be in their studios perfecting hand craft makes it so that all of us can enjoy affordable art in our homes and on our bodies.

That dedication and happiness was seen in our store this past Saturday, the first of four such Saturdays in “ARTober”. Rachelle Pulkilla wowed us for hours with her work – sparks flying at times! – and her spirit. She is a metalsmith and jeweler and each piece is unique.

Somewhere in the middle of her time with us, I heard little voices I recognized, and there stood our friend Kari Heybrock and her three children. They were thrilling to watch as they took in what Rachelle was doing and making. Her oldest, a seven-year-old, was asking very detailed questions. They help their mother in her studio occasionally, and this next Saturday we will be watching Kari make her magic with molten glass, two torches, precision and grace. She’s brought her studio to STUFF before, and we are ecstatic to have her back.

What blows me away is that, at every one of these events, artists we represent come out and support the other artists while they are “in studio” with us. To say the customers love it would be an understatement.

These are the weekends I live for. The ones where it all comes together … where we all come together. This is why I do what I do for a living. There is nothing greedy about it.

p.s. You can find out more about Kari, Rachelle and ARTober right here.

Forever

One of the things I do that I love is volunteer at The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. Tonight, my volunteer job had me asking people who were coming to see the new exhibit how long they had been members of the Friends of Art.

One of the things I do that I love is volunteer at The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. I have vivid memories of the docents that brought paintings into our classroom in 5th grade at Bryant Elementary. My mind sees – and my nose still remembers – the smell of the school bus during our trips to The Nelson from way out in Waldo when we came “down” to see art with our junior high school art teacher.

Tonight, my volunteer job had me asking people who were coming to see the new exhibit, “Modern Mexico”, how long they had been members of the Friends of Art. I loved seeing the answers on their faces before their mouths issued a word. “I joined tonight,” she said with sparkling eyes. “Forever,” said the older gentleman, “I really don’t know. I was a member for a long time, and then I got sick, and now I am a member again.”

Their prize for answering me was that I christened them with a sticker that shared with the world their membership years. I then told them all what their membership does for the museum by keeping it free for the public and open year round. It helps bring art to the schools and bring the schools to the art. Heck, it even helps make free member events like tonight free.

Recently, a staff member at The Nelson told me my number. My years of membership at my museum stunned me a bit. I couldn’t possibly be as old as that number was big! So, tonight I chose two stickers for myself as I was leaving the museum. One is where I am, and one is where I am headed.

I think a quarter of a century sounds fantastic and the number twenty-five seems youthful. Just like me!

p.s. “Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera and Masterpieces of Modern Mexico” will be at The Nelson-Atkins until August 18, 2013. Don’t miss it. The colors alone will blown you away. Find out more here.