molly irwin

journaling & collecting: work life

Funny how clearing off your dresser can be an exercise in creativity--when you realize that unconsiously a collection has formed.

Some of you know that I worked for Anthropologie for just over a year, through January.  My leaving was voluntary and positive, based on changing needs of our family during the transition before we moved. (And I miss the people!)

I wanted to document some thoughts about that time, as well as make a place to keep some interesting objets trouve' and apparel branding that came home on my purchases.

Given the vital pace, I have so few photos of myself to represent this time. Luckily, I did take one self portrait outside on a cold morning. The quality of the photo isn't great, so I altered it to black and white and printed on textured cardstock for a vintage feel, adding the date at the lower left. The white photo background and ribbon are from a shopping bag. I stitched an acetate monogram together with the ribbon.

I sewed a paper pocket to slip in my journaling, and went about arranging little bits into slide protector sleeves. (Similar product here.) Brass sequins are extras from a dress.

On the back side I slipped in some more acetate letters to spell a-n-t-h-r-o. Opposite is a collection of photos I took of one of my favorite seasonal concepts from holiday 2011: a season of light. Our visual team outdid themselves.

While Anthropologie is a particularly compelling aesthetic, I've been thinking that I wish I had documented previous work experiences in a visual way beyond the typical post-process resume. I might have to see what I can pull together to round out my story.

---------

materials: patterned paper: Anna Griffin, Bazzill cardstock in light sand, date font: castellar, grosgrain ribbon photo corners: Martha Stewart for EK Success, clear acetate letters: Heidi Swapp ghost alphabet reason lower, pocket cut from Basic Gray Recess teacher's lounge. accent circle punched from Bazzill dark red. All ephermera in pockets are branding materials. open chipboard square: Maya Road. 

the all American summer

Living in swimsuits.

Eating on the screen porch. Every meal.

Biking to the pool. Biking to the beach. Biking to friends.

This is the summer you learned to swim. All three of you. You've never been so tanned before. Marty actually asked if it would wash off because he didn't like it.

You kids experienced a true sense of freedom this summer unlike any other. Can we go for a bike ride?  Yes. Can we go to the park? Yes. Can we go to the pool again? Yes. 

It was the summer of yes. Proximity made it all comfortably safe and convenient. The summer of novelty and warm lake breezes. Hot nights in the third floor with overworked window units. I loved hearing the whir of a jet ski through the window in the early morning. And the neighborhood awakening to a cadence of tread meeting pavement before dawn. Sometimes my own.

We chatted with new neighbors over cold beers in back yards. The kids decorated bikes and eventually warmed to other small people and dogs at the block party. Our neighbors like to make good food, so we should fit right in. Everyone is very friendly, but I know from experience that these relationships are built on the passage of time and circumstance.

Helen did a day camp for two weeks, and Joan started cross country practice the first week of August. Between those things, summer reading, and all the outdoor fun there was little time for boredom.  Though there were moments. Nothing that couldn't be solved by putting ourselves in chairs for dinner. 

Now, in mid-September, as cold begins to settle around, our evenings are filling up with working integers, "what is a quasar?" and the need for extra blankets. It's a good thing that summer helped fix this new place in our minds as one of wonder and opportunity.

----