Superbook of Things to Make

One summer in the early 1970’s, an aunt from Norway visited our family in Colorado. Aunt Åse, my mom’s stepsister, stayed for a month as part of her trip across the United States. She spent time with everyone in our family, but I really wanted to monopolize her time. I liked her because she laughed a lot. She also seemed interested in all of my craft projects that I showed (bored) her, and that made me like her even more. I was a crafty child—constantly making stuff, and always taking art classes. I think I was 10 years old at the time. I gave her a special tour of our neighborhood mall, which included a stop to one of my favorite shops, Bauble Mart (the bead and craft shop). The summer flew by and Åse went back to Oslo.

Above: The design of Superbook of Things to Make is very au courant now—with touches of decorative fonts. The font on the cover reminds me of this typeface.

Months later, deep in the middle of a Colorado winter (we actually had big snow storms then), I received a package from Norway—from Åse. I tore it open—it was a book called, Superbook of Things to Make. She purchased the book in London, on her way home to Norway. She signed the inside…thanking me (for making her summer trip so fun).

I was thrilled...and became obsessed with the book for the next year. I told my mom that I wanted to make every single project in the book. Superbook of Things to Make seemed a bit exotic too me then, because it was all in metrics, and the styling of the book seemed very modern.

I found my old treasured copy of Superbook of Things to Make at my mom’s house a few years ago, and it brought back all of the fun times I had reading it and making the projects as a kid.

Mr. Peacock still likes these “Clock Flowers”...in what looks like a cleanser can vase (painted white) .

I made this straw curtain with straws and beads from Bauble Mart.

My projects didn’t turn out looking as good as the photos in the book. I didn’t know they had art directors and stylists perfecting each project for the photos, and would sometimes get frustrated with my results. I wish I had a photograph of one of my projects from then—it would be a good laugh!

I made these planters out of old cleaning bottles, but I didn’t paint them as precisely as the book...

...and my seedlings didn’t get as bushy theirs either.

Mr. Peacock loves patchwork, but I didn’t get around to making this “Patchwork Wallpaper” project. I think it could still could be relevant for the right room. They used wallpaper sample books, but you could simply mix a few wallpaper patterns into a patchwork.

I see a glimpse of some red toile peeking through the chair and table.

Colored tape carefully patterned on a wall...

I like the diagram too!

Superbook of Things to Make was such a thoughtful gift. I wore the book out—the binding is ripped and the corners are tattered. Åse sent me another great gift a few years later when I started to study (and become obsessed with) Russian, but that’s another posting.

Any other crafty kids out there? You can buy a vintage copy of Superbook of Things to Make (by Pia Hsiao and Neil Lorimer) here. Did anyone else have Superbook of Things to Make as a kid, or have any other favorite childhood craft books?

Tête-à-tête with Historically Inaccurate

Richard Saja is the witty and creative gentleman behind Historically Inaccurate Decorative Arts. Mr. Peacock first became aware of Mr. Saja’s mischievous and cheeky toile pieces a few years ago, and immediately became a fan of Historically Inaccurate. You may already know that Mr. Peacock is fond of Toile de Jouy and embroidery.

Richard’s current site-specific installation, The Bright and Shining Light of Irreverence: Richard Saja and the Historically Inaccurate School, is at the Kalkin House (above) at the Shelburne Museum. Hurry, the exhibit ends October 23, 2009.



The Shelburne Museum is an art and Americana museum composed of 39 different structures, including the Kalkin House, nestled in the of Vermont’s scenic Lake Champlain valley. The Shelburne is home to the finest museum collections of 19th century American folk art, quilts, 19th and 20th century decoys, and carriages...and is the perfect local for the clever work of Queens, New York based artist Richard Saja.

Above left to right: "Just this once" 23" round embroidered toile at the Shelburne exhibit; the piece which inspired it—"The Garden of Eden" by Eratus Salisbury Field, which is part of the Shelburne permanent collection.

Mr. Saja turned the Kalkin House (a two story prefab structure designed in 2001 by New Jersey-based architect Adam Kalkin) into a 19th century salon infused with his “historically inaccurate” take on tradition.

Above: A detail from "Just this once."

He used the upper space to showcase his own work inspired by objects in the Shelburne Museum’s collection, including quilts, silhouette portraits, and needlework.

He filled the bottom floor of the house with 40 portraits he commissioned (from Craigslist, Facebook and friends) depicting himself as an albino animal hybrid, and called it, The Salon of Love & Horror (above).

Above: Square Quilt print from the Shelburne exhibit, 44" x 44"—the squares are computer generated noise fields.

Mr. Peacock: Did you always want to be an artist, or did it happen through serendipity?
Richard Saja: As I child, the first thing I remember wanting to be was one of the Lost Boys from Peter Pan...the (shudder) Disney version, I guess because I had bed sheets with illustrations on them from the film that my grandmother had given me. There was something so appealing and compelling to me about running around Neverland in an animal costume and I so wanted a part of that action. When I realized that was not to be I settled on "rock star" but as the glittering, gender-bending excess of the 70's gave way to the aesthetically horrific 80's, I found myself without a clear career goal.

It took about 20 years of knocking about—streets of NY, art school, ceramics, great books of Western Civilization, bread delivery guy, art director on Mad Ave., waitron—to finally land on textiles. It was serendipity ultimately, but all that had come before laid a solid foundation for the work I now do.



Above left to right: A cushion from the Travers series; detail.

Mr. P: What attracted you to work with textiles, specifically toile?

I grew up in the late 60's and early 70's when the world was ablaze in the polyester prints my mother was so fond of. How could anyone not be seduced by all of those super-saturated acid hues? While I credit that for my initial love of textiles, my interest in toile was borne out of a waking reverie where I conceived of embellishing through embroidery tattoos on the faces of traditional 18th century figures. Unfortunately, I've yet to find a ready-made toile print where the figures are large enough to have tattooed faces but I modified the concept and the Toile & Tats series was begun.



Above: Historically Inaccurate's first toile sofa (and detail) from a few years ago.

Mr. P: When did you create your first toil(e) piece? And Frankentoile piece?
My first toile piece was created over the Independence Day weekend of 2001, I believe. I wanted to upholster the seat of an old wooden chair that I found in my basement for my booth at the International Gift Show the following month so while my friends were frolicking on the beaches on Asbury Park, I sat on the porch and put needle to toile. A few weeks ago the chair collapsed (dry wood!) and I cut the embroidery from the frame. 


Frankentoile was borne out of my inability to discard any piece of toile (see pillows above), no matter how small that still had a full print on it. I have bags of scraps lying about so piecing prints back together seemed inevitable at some point. The Son of Frankentoile series is where the concept really shines for me, though: to recontextualize a toile and imbue what is traditionally a very sedate print with humor and mystery through simple patchwork.



Above left to right: A cushion from the Travers series; detail with French knots.

Mr. P: Are you a self-taught embroiderer, or did someone teach you?
Except a brief 1/2 hour tutorial in a bar on the complexities of the French knot (see photo above), I'm completely self-taught. I'll also share that I'm in no way a technically skilled artisan and have included pictures on my blog of the reverse side of some of my pieces as a testament to this fact.



Above: A detail from the Tats & Toile series.

As a kid, did you sew, quilt or embroider?
No. I was way too busy making dioramas of haunted houses. I did however, create superhero costumes using crayola iron-on fabric crayons and t-shirts. Starboy and Timberwolf (he has no pupils!) from the Legion of Super Heroes were favorites of mine.



Above: At the Shelburne Museum exhibit—Saja's Fauxnasetti Bar Towels, an homage to Piero Fornasetti.

Who or what has been an influence on your life and artwork?
The great 20th century Italian designer Fornasetti has been not so much an influence as a kindred spirit from beyond the grave. I wasn't all that aware of his work until a few years after I had begun my design career and I immediately saw great similarities in our aesthetic.

Above: A view of the top floor bedroom tableau at the Kalkin House, and details of the Diversity Quilt (a statement on contemporary Gay culture)—a matrix of men all walking in the same direction with walking sticks stitched in different hues.

The actual source and inspiration comes from everything everywhere...my world is a rich, surprising and delightful one and I think that translates into many, if not all, of my pieces.




Your ProtoBolsters are at the same time endearing and a bit disturbing—I love them! Are the names metaphors for what you were thinking as you created each one, or purely random?
Neither. When I was working on them I thought, "where can I find a nearly inexhaustible source for interesting names? " Catholicism was the obvious choice: they're named after the saints.


Above: A ProtoBolster "chandelier" hanging at the Kalkin House.

I'm glad you picked up on the endearing/disturbing aspect...it's something that just happens but it happens often in my work and I LOVE it. Things are rarely black and white and to embody 2 completely different emotions in one object really amps me hard.



Portraits from The Salon of Love & Hate, left to right: by Mark Blanton; by J. Tom Legaspi; by Steven Levan.

The Salon of Love and Horror is brilliant. I know asking you to pick a favorite portrait would be like asking a parent to pick their favorite child, but do you feel one particularly struck a chord and really personified your personality?
Ah, Sophie's Choice! Although I feel like it would be nearly impossible to concentrate my entire personality in one painting, I think the Kristina Carroll piece touches (see below) on an aspect of me that is ever-present yet not really evident.

It's somewhat difficult for me to characterize, but I think it's a wistful but world-weary knowledge that everything is going to be alright...that things always somehow work themselves out in the end and that it's usually for the best: weathered hope, I suppose.

“Weathered hope”...Mr. Peacock likes that phrase and description. I think that sums up many folks feeling right now.

Above: Richard Saja photographed by Hiroko Masuike for The New York Times.

If you’re on the East Coast, plan a trip up to the Shelburne Museum this weekend and see Richard Saja’s dynamic work at the Kalkin House. You can also see more of his work on his website, or his blogs: Historically Inaccurate, ProtoBolster, or The Salon of Love & Horror. Thank you Richard!

NY Art Book Fair

If you’re in New York, put down your iPhone, Blackberry, laptop, whatever...and make a pilgrimage to the fourth annual NY Art Book Fair at P.S. 1 Contemporary Art Center, in Long Island City, Queens this weekend.

Printed Matter, the world’s largest nonprofit organization dedicated to publications made by artists, presents this Fair of over 200 international presses, booksellers, antiquarian dealers and independent artist/publishers.

The NY Art Book Fair is free and open to the public October 2-4, with a special preview and benefit for Printed Matter this evening. For a list of exhibitors, benefit tickets and more information click here.

Don’t miss the Manpurse IV: Assembly Line at the NY Art Book Fair. This custom screen print tote bag assembly line at the Fair is organized by one of Mr. Peacock’s favorite artists, J. Morrison. Get a custom "manpurse" and fill it with your book purchases.

Above: J. Morrison (center) printing custom totes (you could choose from various artwork) at last years NY Art Book Fair.

You can get a custom screen-printed tote bag, by some interesting contemporary artists including Slava Mogutin, Paul Mpagi Sepuya, J. Morrison, and more.

Here’s a sample of J. Morrison’s work. You may remember his silk screened red bandana I featured back in April. Photos above by Maria Chavez.

If you’re not in New York, don’t worry—you can still get some amazing art books and goodies at Printed Matter online. They stock an amazing assortment of artist books, periodicals, posters/cards, artwork, clothes and ephemera that you won’t be able to find anywhere else. So treat yourself to a book by an artist today!

An Emile Norman Treasure

Last April, Mr. Peacock wrote about the extraordinary artist Emile Norman. I received a very lovely email from a reader whose husband was good friends with Mr. Norman, and had commissioned an elephant and cherub (which is in the likeness of Emile’s partner Brooks).

Here's a shot of the stylized elephant by Emile Norman. Thanks Sue for sharing your wonderful Emile Norman treasure!

A sad footnote:
Mr. Peacock was saddened to hear the news that Emile Norman passed away of natural causes last Thursday. Actress Jill Ekenberry, who produced (along with her husband actor Michael Tucker) the documentary, Emile Norman: By His Own Design, told the Los Angeles Times, that “he designed his life as well as his art.” Michael Tucker said, "The way he looked at his art and work was a calling. It flowed through him. He was the purest artist I ever met." Thank you Emile Norman for your inspiration to be true to yourself!

From the journals of Mr. Peacock...

I’ve kept journals, or should I say “scrapbooks” for decades now (yikes-time flies). They’re not really a journal in the traditional sense, but more of a visual diary of my life. I've always been obsessed with assorted bits of ephemera and magazines (I work at them and buy them). I admit I can be somewhat of a pack rat too. As I’ve mentioned before, I was always a gypsy and moved around many times in my life.

One day I started gluing everything that I liked into my sketchbook, and I’ve never looked back. When I would move—all I had to worry about was my journals, instead of stacks of magazines and boxes of ephemera.

I know many people enjoy keeping similar cut & paste journals. I find the actual act of clipping, gluing and collaging to be very therapeutic and relaxing. I try do constantly maintain my journals, but sometimes I get behind on keeping up with my “paperwork.” In fact, right now I’m behind a few months, but I’ll eventually take a weekend and plow through my “stuff” and get caught up. Over the years I’ve even had some intimate friends become frustrated, and almost jealous, at the time I spent maintaining my journals.

My journals have been like a close friend to me over the years. I turn to them when I want to escape, to be cheered up, or if I need a bit of inspiration. I can tell what year I created a journal just my thumbing through the pages. It always takes me right back to where I was at that moment in my life—much like a written diary for some folks.

I’ve purchased the same size hard-covered 10.5” x 13.5” Canson hard cover sketch books year after year. I've had some red covers & white covers, but most are black covered.

I always put a “title” on the front of each journal that sums up my mind-set at the time. I’m not too precious when I work on my journals, no straight lines or perfect layouts here; they’re just for me. I can tell you I've gone through cases and cases of glue-sticks over the years.

The IKEA Billy Bookcases in my living room nicely store some of my journals ( above-on the bottom two shelves behind my sofa).

I’ve never tallied up how many journals I’ve filled over the years. They’ve been in storage, lost, stolen, and regrettably I sold some journals.

Above: I like the way some of my "vintage" journals are getting a patina and discoloring from time.

Almost 20 years ago, I sold some to a shop owner that purchased rare books and magazines. When you entered the shop you had to check your bag. The shop owner peeked at my journal as I shopped. When I retrieved my bag he asked me what my book was and I said it’s my “journal.” He asked if I had anymore and said he would be interested in buying them. I told him I didn’t sell my journals. However, when I needed some quick cash I took a few back and sold them. I don’t even remember how much I got for them, but in hindsight I wish I had kept them.

I'll probably continue to keep making my journals until I die, although, unfortunately I'll run out of space to keep them. Many pages of my journals are naughty, and I can't share them here, but over time I will share some more "G" rated pages from my journals (and photograph them better).

Do you keep a diary, journal or scrapbook of your life and thoughts? Or do you have a ritual that inspires you at the uninspired lulls in life? Whatever you do, I hope you have an inspiring weekend!