Relentlessly looking for the unusual, the surprising, especially – the weird. Searching for things with an edge a special something that makes “it”, that much more. The most prized possessions are “found”, whether hand-me-downs, or picked up in a flea market, every item has a story. Constantly rummaging for that extra “something” in everything, never settling for normal or easy. The hands are the most important aspect to our existence, lack of which wouldn’t cease our motivation; a hook would do nicely.
Endlessly creating, the gears never in neutral.
Standing still is more difficult that working.
Sometimes the most simple things amaze, the stories and the effort tug at our hearts. The forgotten, the ignored, the run-down and displaced are the treasure troves of new ideas. Tradition looks like a blank canvas, and the first stone to step on.
Pre-fabricated isn’t in our playbook, we obsess about made-from-scratch, the objects people never throw away. The more folksy, the more at-home something is the more we adore it. Old photographs, ancient tribal rugs, the unreproducible are irreplaceable.
Simple is boring: crazy is the best.