endless summer

THIS SUMMER has been an unbalanced liquid mixture of emotions which tilt to one side or the other and give me the feeling that I will never regain my sea legs. I've been thrown off balance like never before through a lost relationship and other surrounding turmoil. That's why I haven’t posted on my blog for a while. But with time as our most constant and dependable friend, things have a way of finding equilibrium and balance again. One really finds out who their friends are during times like these. I've realized that instead of giving all my love away, I have to begin with a good portion for myself. It's definitely one of life's hardest lessons to learn (and relearn). Once again, I'm finding my way back, finally. And again, I'm sure I'll forget, because when I love, it's from a deep place in my heart and soul and I lose my head in the clouds of what could have been.

BEACH BEAUTY | This festive tree combines a beach-inspired assemblage of mercury glass shell ornaments; starfish ornaments of all shapes, colors and kinds; glittered "sea creatures"; mother-of-pearl covered orbs; and tiny mercury glass ornament punctuations of teals, greens and gold.

EVEN THOUGH I haven't made a trip to the beach since last November (to Mexico), the abundance of the summer rain this year has been a welcome relief from the heat of a landlocked city. Fortunately, an effect of this seems to be that there has been a cleansing of souls all around. Astrologically speaking, June and July this summer were dominated by what is called the Grand Water Trine. According to Michael Lennox, a newly discovered astrologer I've enjoyed reading (and watching), it’s an astrological configuration created by Neptune in Pisces, Saturn in Scorpio, and all of the planets that have recently been in Gemini entering into the early degrees of Cancer—the three water signs. When the planets line up in this way, they create a harmonious flow between them, offering up the benefits of such a flow of energy. And water simply moves around and over any obstacle instead of getting trapped. This so-called Grand Water Trine assists us in finding the flow.

SEASHELLS by the SEASHORE | A thoughtful mixture of sea-themed ornaments creates a magical memory of the beach.

THIS BEACH-THEMED TREE celebrates a shift toward a much-needed matriarchal softness in the world that the recent astrological events are supposed to bring. My previous posts entitled Under the Stars and Heartstrings were mostly laments. Ironically enough, this post’s tree was planned well before either of the former posts, as I've carefully gathered the elements for it for many months, starting last autumn. It has been a process-oriented gathering, which I could never get to come together because I always felt something was missing. What was missing was me, and my ability to pull myself together—I had all the elements in place all along, but I have to say that a few key items were added to the mix along the way that made a symbolic difference. This tree has the bright magic of a subdued summer Christmas, which is entirely appropriate—at least figuratively. 'Tis the season.

LUCKY STAR | This pressed tin star (Hecho en Mexico) is a symbol of my last trip to the beach in Tulum, Mexico last November. One of the last additions to my gathering of decorations for this tree, I bought it at Atlanta's High Museum Shop during their fantastic Frida and Diego exhibit this year (now closed). Associations like this give resonance to the ornaments I use to create a tree.

BOOK of DREAMS | Available here.

The preface of the summer section of my book based on this blog still resonates and amplifies the metaphors I associate with the ocean. Memories of childhood trips to the beach, riding the waves and soaking in the summer sun have replayed in my mind all my life. Reality has caught up with me again and I'm metaphorically (and astrologically) riding the waves created back to solid ground again. Devin literally saved my life when I was overwhelmed by the ocean waves in Tulum, Mexico one day last November, and now I've found myself having to save my life all on my own. It's funny how reality can become metaphor again. Here is the preface of the summer section of my book in its entirety (as adapted from my original blog post):

ONE OF MY FIRST MEMORIES is of pointing to the ocean. Throughout my life my parents told me that the first word I uttered was “see” as I pointed out to the sea. A trip to the beach with my parents and siblings was a yearly summer ritual. In true road-trip fashion, there were few finite plans made before hitting the road. The drive to the beach would begin before the crack of dawn to ensure we could find a place to stay before nightfall. Since I was the youngest of four siblings by a ten-year gap, it was always a middle-of-the-backseat trip. I would lean with my elbows on the back of the front seat between them. Daddy's Lincoln Continental was like a smoothly cruising land yacht sailing to paradise. Because he was so anxious to reach our destination, it was almost impossible to get my father to stop during our trip. Once there, we would check out the scene at the beach before finding a motel with a vacancy. The limitless horizon of the ocean 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. Recalling and projecting in my mind's eye the flickering Super 8 movies my father made of our summer vacations, I can ponder the limitless possibilities in life and death. In my dreams, summer never really ends.

SUMMER SPREAD | The opening spread of the summer section of my book (which gathers decorating ideas for celebrating the four seasons).

TOP SHELL | I simply removed the cap from one of the mercury glass shell ornaments and turned it upside down to produce a unique tree topper.

READ IT AND WEEP | Remember the 2010 Gulf Oil Disaster? Still buying gas at BP? Read this scathing article. 

Please revisit my original post lamenting the BP disaster if you missed it in 2010 or have forgotten about it (I refused to ever call it a "spill"). In a season of beach-themed trees for The Decorated Tree, it's entirely appropriate to get mad about the BP cover up all over again. I hope the beauty of the beaches you visit and the lull of the ocean springs you back into action to do something to raise awareness to keep this sort of thing from happening again. (Regretfully, the stickers my friends and I made—detailed at the end of the post—to remind people about the devastation that was happening are no longer available). 

©2013 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland

spring in bloom

THIS SHOULD be a glorious spring. Signs of new life are everywhere—from a crocus peeping through the snow (in the North) to the first daffodil showing its sunny face (here in the South). 

IT HAS been an unusually wet winter in Atlanta, and the trees will soon paint the sky with broad strokes of freshly-watered yellows and pure chartreuse. The warmer weather and longer daylight hours are more than welcome this year. The older I get, the less I can endure cold weather. I like the cool feel of new grass underneath my feet and the riot of pastel colors that seem to be transported from a Monet painting—all assured signs of the return to spring.

THE RITUAL of the decorated tree has its roots in summoning spring's return along with an evident promise of renewal. The lethargy of winter loosens its hold and gives way to the budding of new life. Spring is my favorite time of year because it symbolizes rebirth in the natural unbroken circle of the seasons. It's not too hot, not too cold and the winds seem to blow in an effort to softly lull the earth fully awake again. And green—in any shade—is my favorite color.

FLOWERS ARE  undoubtedly the sex symbols of the plant world. Not only for their fresh beauty, but their proud sensuality. Those decorating trees are obviously a celebration of all of this, whether real or man-made. Although you'll see all sorts of flowers year-round, it seems that this seasonal rebirth of nature asserts their fresh colors and graceful beauty. A rare tree will be decorated with fresh flowers (usually sufficiently enough in nature alone), but luckily there are many forms of artificial decorative flowers. With an Impressionist pedigree like the glitter-edged fabric and beaded ones you see in the photos here,  clipping a few to a branch can rush the season. Are they roses? Lilies? That's the point, they're not too carefully constructed to be anything other than an impression, which starts a lively dance.

ARTIFICIAL FLOWERS  and trees are just that. Although often approximated, there's nothing like the texture and feel of a a budding branch from a slumbering tree directly from nature. A man-made flower or tree should only give an impression, not try to recreate the unparalleled sensory bounty of nature. I'm amazed at how realistic some artificial flowers and trees can look, but ultimately, they're only an illusion. They are frozen in time and only collect dust, not memories. I don't understand the point to them. I'd rather invest in a few real twigs or blooms—ephemeral as they are—than a vase full of silk flowers. Nothing compares to what mother nature produces. Beauty can be found in something artificial only when it creates an impression, because it is something altogether different. Their reasons to exist should't try too hard to mimic the rich complexity born to the natural world.

IF ONE CAN'T indulge themselves with flowers bought at the market or brought in from a garden, the year-round option of a book of photographs can be quite satisfyingly up-close and intimate. My friend Barbara Bordnick's  three volume series of flower portraits capture a moment in time of the life of a flower, so that you can return to it again and again. The books are all appropriately named Searchings and vividly capture "the secret landscapes of flowers." These books were published several years back, but they are still available—especially the last two volumes. I am lucky enough to have a personally signed copy of Volume III (published in May 2005). This volume explores the enigmatic simplicity of the color white. White flowers have a language all their own that isn't readily seen, except in amazing up-close photographs like these. Barbara describes this in the third volume of Searchings: 

"I began to photograph, and once I got past the lull of their serenity, I encountered an infinite variety of color, texture, and personality. While demure, I found them to be the most seductive and audacious. They just dared to call me in a little bit closer, requiring more of my time before moving on. No longer acquaintances, it became time well spent with intimate friends. Perhaps of all the colors in Nature's palette, none is more beautiful—or holds more secrets—than her whites."

DECORATING WITH flowers, whether included with other ornaments on a tree or in their natural form in a single bud vase, is the ultimate form of celebrating the life brought forth in spring. And their singular faces always turn to look toward the warm light of the sun.

ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE | (Top, right and middle, left) Impressionistic beauty can be found in artificial clip-on flower ornaments like glittered fabric roses and seed-beaded flower forms, all from the 2009 Martha Stewart Collection at Macy's. 

REAL BEAUTY | Veteran New York photographer Barbara Bordnick's series of books, all named Searchings capture intimate portraits of real flowers to enjoy all-year-round (all three volumes shown together, above, right). When she turned her lens to flowers, she captured a secret landscape rarely observed. To purchase signed, limited edition prints of her work, contact her here. I've been fortunate enough to work with her on a few occasions. She brings a Zen-like quietness of respect to the set, no matter how imposing a client can be. It's no wonder that she became fast friends with flowers and these books were published to rave reviews. A closer look is a celebration in itself.

©2010 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

photography and styling by Darryl Moland,
Searchings book covers ©2010 Barbara Bordnick