The Persistence of Memory

How on earth can a clump of tissue possibly capture and store everything -- poems, emotional reactions, locations of favorite bars, distant childhood scenes? The answer is that brain cells keep one another on biological speed-dial, like a group of people joined in common witness of some striking event. Call on one and word quickly goes out....

~ Benedict Carey, The New York Times

(Pieter Brueghel, "The Fight Between Carnival and Lent," 1559)

* * * * *

When I rounded the corner of the medina and saw the man sitting there, a sensation pierced my brain -- I know this picture. The man, the blue djellaba, the massive slab of flesh -- I have a file in my head already that contains this image.

(Morocco, December 2009)

There was no time to tease out the origin of my long-dormant memory, so I quickly snapped a photo and hurried to follow my husband and son before they disappeared headlong into the narrow alleys of Essaouira.

(Morocco, December 2009)

For the next few days, the image nagged at me. Where had I seen it before? The clues I kept getting from my brain cells were scattershot and confusing: Bohemianism. Loucheness. Smoky pubs. And instead of beef, I kept thinking of bacon. Why were these words so insistently linking themselves with a photograph of a Muslim butcher?

Finally it came to me.

(Francis Bacon)

(Man with Meat, Francis Bacon, 1954)

It was kind of stunning to realize that my brain had been on top of things (so to speak) the entire time, alerting my mental troops to harness any word or image I had ever associated with Francis Bacon. Sure enough, each clue led back to a connection I had made with him at one time or another.

Now whenever my memory is jogged, I think of Mr. Carey's description:

"Brain cells keep one another on biological speed-dial, like a group of people joined in common witness of some striking event."

From now on, I am visualizing my brain cells as villagers in a Brueghel painting, each one the possessor of a specific set of images and memories.

(Brueghel, "Netherlandish Proverbs", 1559)

When the call comes in -- "Alert! Need source image for Moroccan butcher!" -- they rally their neighbors and shout hints from the streets and rooftops, all trying to help the poor forgetful Gargantuan in whose body they reside.

Drool. Three Times.

1. What if The Selby met The Sartorialist?

Artist/photographer Jeana Sohn goes into the homes of some of LA's most creatively dressed women to show you exactly where the magic happens. The "Closet Visit" section of her eponymous blog (look on her sidebar) gives you a lush, revealing glimpse into the personal collections that define each woman's finely honed sense of style. It's fascinating to see them in their personal spaces wearing some of their favorite finds -- they all have a sexy confidence that comes from knowing exactly who they are and what they love to wear. And the colors and textures and patterns...oh my! I could go on, but here's the bottom line: It's gotten to the point where I wait impatiently for each weekly "Closet Visit." I think you will too.

(Deborah Kaplan)

(closet of Heather Taylor)

(Clare Vivier)

(Simone LeBlanc)

(Heather Taylor)

(Joanna Williams)

(Deborah Kaplan)

(closet of Heather Taylor)

2. What if the world of travel met "The World of Interiors"?

Travel editor Meghan McEwan is perpetually planning her next trip and we are all the luckier for it. Her new blog Designtripper sprang to life because in her words, "Having spent an exorbitant amount of time researching interesting, independent places to stay, it seemed like a terrible waste not to share the findings."

Designtripper is Meghan's mouthwatering compendium of places to stay around the globe that fulfill her stringent credo of being authentic, thoughtfully designed and rich in character. From a refurbished village schoolhouse in Belgium to the Scottish lodge where Orwell wrote "1984" or to a houseboat in India, you'll be overwhelmed by the far flung splendor of her discoveries. I want to stay at every place she writes about (actually, I did stay at one -- she profiled my recent stay in Scotland here.)

More Meghan: "People who are passionate about travel tend to have open minds and really good stories. And generally speaking, people are nicer when they're on vacation. I'd like to inspire people to be nicer."

Isn't that a lovely ideology?

(Jura Lodge, Scotland)

(Discovery boat, Kerala, India)

(Olde Bell Inn, England)

(Podere Palazzo, Italy)

(Lej da Staz, Switzerland)

(Champollion apartment, Paris)

3. What if the immaculate love child of Karl Lagerfeld and Tony Duquette met a Goth-Baroque time traveller?

I'm at a loss for adjectives here. If you have ever clicked on Lauren Tennenbaum's brilliant blog Indecorous Taste, you'll know exactly what I mean. If you haven't, well, I'll attempt a description.

Lauren is a pale medieval beauty with the willowy proportions of a Boldini muse. At her seemingly tender age, she is not only an avant-garde shoe and accessories designer (a crystal spine harness, anyone?) but also a decorative painter, interiors stylist and all-around one-woman show. From what I can glimpse from her lushly opulent photos, she lives in some sort of baroque dream palace where she unswervingly devotes herself to pursuing her unique brand of eccentric glamour and living out her "latent Imperialist fantasies." I am admiringly - and heartstoppingly - agog.

(Lauren Tennenbaum, visionary and blogger)

(Her trophy room)

(Lucite heels with crystal bouquet adornment)

(Lauren in her crystal spine harness)

(A painted pillow in progress)

(Leather painted pillow)

(The shoe-making process)

(A stylish cornerscape)

(Her bedroom)

Looking Bookish

Here's exactly how it all went down.

I was standing in front of my library shelves yesterday reminiscing about all the meaningful moments spent with their contents over the years. I found myself wishing I could carry the comforts of some of my favorite novels with me as a talismanic charm when venturing out into the world.

But what could I make that was soft and tactile and symbolized the transformative power of the written word? As I stood reading the titles of my little collection of Penguin Classics, a cold breeze swept in through the living room window and instantly I knew.

Q: What's even better than re-reading a favorite book?

A: Keeping it close to your heart.

I would knit a book scarf.

A Penguin Classics book scarf.

Having recently discovered a website that lets you print graph paper for knitting, I took a stab at translating the world's most iconic penguin into squares.

(Knitting paper available here)

Using size 7 needles, it took about 30 minutes to knit up my prototype. For the actual scarf, I'll adjust my gauge slightly to make him taller and slimmer, but I think he's pretty cute.

(Sample section of my Penguin book scarf)

As for the design of the rest of the scarf, I could go big and graphic and knit the whole thing as a single book, like this:

(Note: For the title, knit a plain white background and then embroider the letters over it in chainstitch.)

Or I could knit a row of books and just keep adding "shelves" until my scarf reached the desired length:

I mean, come on. Wouldn't it be amazing this winter to see people walking down the street wearing their favorite novel around their necks? Talk about a conversation opener.

(My inspiration board. That's Beatrix Potter in the hat.)

This wrapping paper is a great example of all the lovely colors that vintage Penguins used to come in.

(Penguin spines wrapping paper, available here)

If I make either scarf, I promise to photograph the results along with any pattern I create. I post my ideas/sketches here in the hope that they'll inspire some of you to use them as a jumping-off point. Let me know.

* * * * *

But I wasn't quite done. From vintage Penguins my memory veered to long-held images from some of my favorite books. The house in "Howards End", for instance, is a constant source of inspiration, fulfilling as it does every fantasy I have about English cottage life. Centuries-old brick covered in ivy and climbing vines...what could be cozier? If only there was a way to get inside those walls.

(Howards End house via here)

(via here)

(via here)

Below, I present to you my design for a "Howards End" sweater. The inspiration? A brick wall covered in ivy. I would construct it with a deep shawl-collar for some old school glamour and a knitted belt to keep it snug and sexy around the hips. The pieces of ivy would be sewn on afterwards and could be either knitted or made out of felt.

("Howards End" sweater)

Depending on the book in question, the variations are endless. For George Eliot's "Middlemarch", you could knit the same sweater in slate gray and appliqué with pink rose blossoms -- how else to symbolize Dorothea's passionate ideals amid the restrictive rules of village life? For Elizabeth Von Arnim's "Enchanted April", I would knit the body of the sweater in a muted gold (the color of a Tuscan villa at sunset) and attach wisteria flowers to it. You get the idea.

* * * * *

Is there any book that could inspire you to create an article of clothing? What colors and textures and patterns bubble up inside of you when you think of it?

Notes On A Missed Month

Ah, October. A season of transition, when creatures great and small surrender to the rhythms of nature, slow down and prepare themselves for winter.

(The Fantastic -- and highly efficient -- Mr. Fox)

I don't know about you, but I need a do-over.

Last month went by in a fierce blur. I raced from one responsibility to the next, feeling like I was always one step behind on the treadmill. I don't begrudge the duties, but I do feel out of balance.

(Photograph by Phil Sharp)

Imaginary Interviewer:

Fame, wealth, endless travel...what is it that you most yearn for?

Me:

I just want to be able to perform small tasks in a cheerful and unhurried manner. Seriously, that's it.

(A Hindu ascetic knitting in Rishikesh, India, 2008. Photo by me.)

I'd like to clean out a closet or two, make some bread from scratch, rearrange the books in my library, espalier my roses and figure out my family's photo album situation (they shamefully still only exist on computer).

Puttering is a luxury these days; it takes a lot of time to fully engage in the joy of small pursuits. However, there is a clarity which arises when you stop racing around and allow yourself to become immersed in a single muted task. Free from the noise of the world, your own quiet voice can be heard. It's meditation in motion.

(Photo by Paola di Giovanni)

Vita Sackville-West knew this.

(Vita and gardeners at Sissinghurst. Photo by Valerie Finnis.)

So did Beaton.

(Self-portrait, Cecil Beaton at Reddish House.)

And Churchill.

(Photograph by Hans Wild, 1945)

And they wrote books, photographed the world and won a war, respectively.

Lose yourself in something and you risk finding yourself. Not a bad proposition, that.

Thus the challenge I face in November -- to carve out some peace within the tumult and regain my personal equilibrium. First things first. I need to rearrange my framework.

My plans so far:

1. More of this.

2. This.

3. This.

4. And this.

Any and all further suggestions greatly appreciated.

(Last four credits, from top: Cecil Beaton, Ashtanga Yoga, Peter Wtewael, Cecil Beaton.)