natural selection

WE ARE NOT living in an age of subtlety. "Reality" shows abound on television where the most obnoxious, outrageous and gaudy get all the attention. No publicity, is bad publicity anymore, even for State Dinner crashers and sons of reality show wannabe parents that hold the media aloft chasing spaceship balloons for hours on end. Christmas decorations have accordingly become gaudier and gaudier in large part due to florists and department store visual display artists trying to outdo each other in public displays. That's how they sell it—build a gaudy spectacle and they will come. This is not how it should be done at home. Somebody forgot the caveat "DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME" somewhere along the line. I remember hearing the mantra of a very successful florist — "if it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing." Not so, when decorating at home.

I CAN CERTAINLY see the m.o. in that credo, and I for one, can appreciate the glee in over-the-top decorations. There's something about gaudy American consumerist spectacle that gives me a particularly sick sort of comfort—it's as if you're not part of the game if you don't participate. More lights in more configurations than you thought humanly possible? The more, the merrier! Commercial-sized plastic blow-up yard ornaments that lie in misshapen piles while the owners are at work during the day? Not so much. It's like getting behind rubbernecking traffic in a 10-car pileup on the interstate. One just hopes they can get by without seeing a crumpled mess, or even worse, a bloody scene, but you're still stuck in the slowed-to-a-standstill traffic. Commerce has overlaid the gentle quietness of nature.

WITHIN ITS ORIGINS, the tradition of the decorated tree began with a simple, some may say, superstitious, hope for the return to spring (as if the turning of the seasons was not a surefire thing). Nevertheless, a reverence for nature is slowly being welcomed back into decorating— bringing the ceremonial symbolism and true meaning of the decorated tree back to its noble origins. A beautiful symbol of the season is a glittery tree shaped from metal "twigs" and adorned with a subdued nod to the natural world in winter whites, tans and grays (above, right). The inclusion of animal ornaments; a polar bear, a mature deer and a small bird are indicative of what can be found in the market which pay homage to endangered species. It's as if we're grasping for an apology to the natural world for what we've done to it. Aside from being visually assaulted at every turn, it is becoming more and more apparent that we are destroying our own natural environment. We have a lot to learn from the pristine natural world (both flora and fauna) in its utter grace and simplicity. No matter how breathtakingly awesome the size of its vista, the natural world, as resilient as it is, is still ultimately fragile when you look at the underlying ecosystem. Nature depends on a complex system of co-habitation and synchronization and it is less and less able to cope with the destruction wrought by humans and the waste and byproducts of industrial "civilization." Pollution comes in too many forms.

MORE AND MORE one can find natural-themed ornaments— made from eco-friendly materials (or at least not plastic or resin). Some of the first ornaments I made as a kid were from a kit my mother bought me made of felt cutouts sewn together and glued with sequins and trim, similar to the felt reindeer ornament here (but much less sophisticated, of course) that seemingly dances among the (wooden, laser-cut) snowflakes (above, left). The Germans are most famous for their glass ornaments, but are also consummate woodcrafters. The two wooden  hand-carved folk art span trees (right) are carved, amazingly enough, from a single piece of linden wood with carefully-cut shavings curled upward to form their branches—works of art in themselves that need no ornamentation. The tableau is rounded out with a couple of hand-blown, metallic-finished glass ornaments, a birch bark folded star ornament, sweetgum tree fruits painted silver (given to me by my friend Julia Neville) and a pewter leaf ornament.

THE IMAGE (at left— click on to enlarge) illustrates my point more succinctly and poignantly as only art can do. I am thrilled to have permission to show the work of a very talented artist named Jaime Zollars. In the description of this piece by Jaime, it is succinctly said: "This image of forest creatures making the best of a bleak situation illustrates hope and the true spirit of the holiday season." In remembering that true spirit, I hope this gives one pause to stop and take time to remember that nature is ultimately responsible for the bounty of the season. Look to it to inspire and inform your holiday decorations. This method to our holiday madness is something we can all hope to achieve. And by doing so, we rejoin nature on a warm wind of change. 

WINTER WISHES |  This metal wire tree from Anthropologie is coated with glittery beads and is hung with a subdued color palette of ornaments: Czechoslovakian beaded ornaments, silvery gray mercury glass baubles and German glass-glittered snowflakes demonstrate the simple composition of this tableau. Beautifully-rendered animal ornaments stand watch and remind us that their environment and ours are essentially one-in-the-same and has to be taken into account for the survival of all. 

SNOWFLAKE DANCER | The artfully, beaded and stitched felt reindeer is from Homegoods. The laser cut wooden snowflakes are from West Elm (large), Target (medium) and Anthropologie (small). 

GERMAN FOLK ART | These wooden folk art span trees are carved from a single piece of linden wood curl by curl and layer by layer with a method developed in the 1930's by talented German craftsmen (these are from Straco and purchased at Homegoods). The two handblown glass ornaments have a beautiful rich crackled "tarnished" silver finish were bought at an arts festival in Atlanta, the birch bark folded star ornament was purchased from Martha by Mail a few years back. The sweetgum tree fruit is spray-painted silver and the pewter leaf ornament came from a shop in the North Georgia mountains. 

©2009 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED,

collecting and styling by Darryl Moland, 
photography (top, right) Harold Daniels Studio / 
assisted by Shawn May, 
(middle, left and bottom, right) Darryl Moland.
Artwork (bottom, left) by Jaime Zollars.
 

glass houses, stone calendar

T H E   I D I O M  "people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" is a well-worn one (idiom, not stone). Of course, it means that anyone criticizing anyone else should have their own house in order before they throw stones (criticism) themselves. It's a hard thing to do for most people, including me—especially the 'house-in-order' stuff.

T R A N S P A R E N C Y  seems to be the catch-word of the day. It seems we live in times where privacy is non-existent. Could this be part of the paradigm shift in consciousness talk about coinciding with the end of the Mayan calendar on December 21st, 2012? Is it the apocalypse? Or just another day of slow, tedious destruction of our life-giving natural environment? Maybe it's just good fodder for another cataclysmic Hollywood movie.

H O M E   S E E M S  to be  the only safe space left—in order or not. And it's always where my cats are (hence the name of my freelance business—Man and Cat Omnidesign). My calico named Luci and my Bengal named Abella seem to have it all figured out. They spend their days relaxing, sleeping and eating; while the rest of us get all geeked out on doomsday stories or the more pressing stuff that fills our days to exhaustion. Maybe cats have already shifted their consciousness and we should take a cue from them to just relax. Why else would the Egyptians have thought them to be gods? Ancient civilizations (like the Mayans and Egyptians) seemed to be onto something cataclysmal, but life-affirming. 



GLASS HOUSES | These mercury glass house ornaments were collected from (top, right) Cost Plus World Market (with snow), Star Provisions, Ebay (antique gold with trees), and a Christmas shop at Biltmore Estates (gingerbread house ornament mouth-blown and hand painted in the Czech Republic by Holiday Lane). The stones are from the creek bed that was the neighborhood swimming hole when I was a boy—well, worn and ready for throwing. 

WARM AND FUZZY | The Man and Cat Omnidesign mascots, Luci and Abella (above, left). Luci, the Calico is the most incredible, magical cat I've ever had. She likes her yogurt in the mornings and has been with me for 16 years now. Much younger than Luci, Abella, the Bengal is loud and rambunctious. She always wants to drink from the tub or sink faucets. They are my constant companions and I adore them.

CALENDAR MYSTERY | The mysterious Mayan calendar (right) ends (or transforms consciousness somehow) on December 21, 2001 (Winter Solstice). The Maya had precise knowledge of our solar system's cycles, which they thought coincide with our spiritual and collective consciousness. No one really knows a lot about how or when the Maya culture began, but they have an enduring prophesy. The archeological evidence of them is shrouded in mystery. We'll have to wait and see what mystery will be unveiled during the holidays of 2012.

©2009 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland

summer immortal

These are the days when birds come back, 

A very few, a bird or two,
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies put on
The old, old sophistries of June,
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee,
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief,

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,
And softly through the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf!

Oh, sacrament of summer days,
Oh, last communion in the haze,
Permit a child to join,

Thy sacred emblems to partake,
Thy consecrated bread to break,
Taste thine immortal wine!

        —Indian Summer by Emily Dickinson 

AS  SUMMER days come to an end this year, I remember my father. Born September 18, 1922, today would have been his 87th birthday. This day seems more significant to me now than the day he died—a day that is strangely all-too-easy to remember. He won't be here for the day I die, but there's always the feeling he's somewhere nearby. I have living memories in my head. The immortal wine has been tasted. 

GROWING  UP, it was a rare occasion to have wine in our house, except for the time around Christmas. My mother was old-fashioned in her beliefs and frowned upon "the drink." Grape juice was passed around with the communion crackers at the local Baptist church we attended religiously. Mother would relent and my father would ritually buy a bottle of Mogen David Concord Grape once a year which would be used to soak the fruitcake she made. As a small act of defiance, daddy and I would sneak a sip or two when he thought I was old enough. It was my first lesson about the hypocrisy of the church—no matter if Jesus' turning water into wine was only symbolic. We would be washed clean by our actions, not by our thoughts. We were all taught to do what's right, whether we thought about it or not. Mother and daddy grew up during the depression and knew that when times got tough, everyone should pitch in and help those in need, not hold tight to what was "theirs." They worked hard and were the give-you-their-shirt-off-their-back kind of people. And I loved them for it.

A  ROAD  TRIP to the beach was almost always our summer vacation. The drive to Florida would begin before the crack of dawn so we could find a place to stay before nightfall on our travel down the Atlantic coast. Our destination was usually Daytona Beach, but one time I remember we rode almost to Miami. Since I was the youngest of four siblings (by a gap of ten years), it was always a middle-of-the-backseat trip. I would lean up on the seat between my parents in my father's Lincoln Continental, which was like a smoothly-cruising a land yacht floating down to paradise. I think my father favored the beach at Daytona because it was so wide you could actually drive your car on it. It was hard to get him to stop until we reached our destination, when we would head down the beach in the car to check out the scene before we found a hotel vacancy. It was always exciting to me. From the quarter-fed Magic Fingers vibrating beds to the sand dollars and starfish I would find, I loved the beach and everything that came with it.

BEFORE  my parents even met, my father was an Army paratrooper in WWII, distinguished by being a Sergeant in the 101st Airborne Division. It was late summer and autumn of 1944 before Adolf Hitler made a last effort to hold his terrible German reign, and on Dec. 16, 1944, German troops surprised and overwhelmed American forces in the Ardennes Forest in the crucial Battle of the Bulge. It was a pivotal moment that ended the tyranny of Nazi rule. The Germans lacked the troops to maintain their success and within two weeks, my father (and the other American soldiers), commanded by General George S. Patton, stopped the German advance into Belgium.

DEFENDING the world’s freedom in the good fight of World War II, as part of America’s Greatest Generation, my father felt this was his utmost accomplishment. He owned a part of  history. He learned to conquer fear. He was a hero to all of us. We became a family of teachers of one sort of another. My sister Donna taught American History. My brother Ronald coached tennis, taught math and eventually became a high school principle. My brother Mal continues to teach unselfishness, kindness and love (like my parents did). And I like to think I'm good at teaching others about art, design and beauty.

THEY WERE MARRIED soon after daddy's arrival back home after the war. They went unceremoniously to the courthouse in Decatur, Alabama on December 23, 1945, so the holidays were always wrapped up in an anniversary. My parents had 59 years of wine-soaked fruitcakes before they both died in 2005. My father led the way, as always, in February of that year, and my mother died soon after that in July. Our family was witness to a boundless love that connected two people at a level that transcends separation. 

MOTHER AND DADDY always gave me a Whitman's Sampler on Christmas Eve every year after I figured out who the real Santa Claus was. It nearly always was placed on the sofa across from the tree in front of the living room picture window—the sofa where I always sat and stared and dreamed, until my eyes blurred with the sparkle of  lights, ornaments and tree melding together. I was hooked.

I RECEIVED another Whitman's Sampler this past Christmas Eve from my friend Jon. Ironically, it was the first year since my parents death that I had completely forgotten to buy a box for myself. And it reminds me every year that life is [truly] like a box of chocolates—and Santa does exist—if you believe in the magic of Christmas as I was taught to do.

ONE OF MY very first memories is pointing out at the ocean. My parents always told me I used  the word "see" when I pointed to the sea. The limitless horizon and the rhythm of the waves never cease to lull me back to that place where the breezes cool, even as the sun warms my face. And, I can ponder the limitless possibilities of life and death, recalling and projecting in my mind's eye, like the flickering Super 8 movies daddy made of our vacations. Summer never really ends.

SEASHELLS AND STARFISH | (Top) Collecting sparkle from the sea, these ornaments (above) evoke a trip to the beach. Like a ship's figurehead, a carved wooden mermaid with wings takes a flight of fancy all-her-own, and a blown mercury glass seashell from Homegoods sparkles like the water. Two glittered starfish from Martha Stewart Everyday Sunshine Celebration line from Kmart and five conical seashells are cast to form a single golden star from Margaret Furlong designs. An antique stretch glass plate serves as the blue of the ocean.

PRIDE AND PALMS | (Second from top) A photo of Hubert L. Moland, my father (above, right), taken before redeployment in 1942 after ending a tour in Africa before advancing to Germany. The flag is one that flew on his grave for a short while. The Sears Craftsman pocket screwdriver was carried on his key chain for years—always at-the-ready to fix something.The coins are ones he collected and represent different eras of American history—from a 1921 Buffalo nickel, a 1979 Susan B. Anthony dollar, a 1976 Bicentennial Eisenhower dollar with the Liberty Bell in front of the moon, to a 1971 Kennedy half dollar. The seashell was one that daddy kept in his medicine cabinet for years, "probably only because it had a hole in it" my brother Mal told me. And the ring to the left of the seashell was the second wedding ring my father bought my mother because her first wore through after years on her hardworking hands. It's the one I always remember her wearing since I came along so late in their lives. 

©2009 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland