Thanksgiving has always been a holiday that was different than I imagined. Those that know me, probably are thinking, “Is there anything you don’t imagine different?”, but Thanksgiving has never been as I pictured. I’ve had lots of different Thanksgiving days. Ones where Dad and I shared the duties of cooking up a meal while we waited for Mom to get home from work, and Gramma to arrive with her Dutch Apple Pie. (that was the only dish she ever made from scratch, maybe..could have been Mrs. Smiths frozen pie). Dad did the dressing and the pies, I did the meat and potatoes. We shared the duty of baked yams and marshmallows with pecans (still both of our favorite dishes) Not sure what Erin did, probably ate dirt, maybe chased the dogs around calling them “Vitamin C” or something. College Thanksgivings were the same actually, except Erin outgrew the eating dirt bit, thankfully. I’ve had Thanksgivings in extended families homes, strangers homes, and temporary families homes too. I’ve come home crying after a rough introductions to other peoples traditions (I’ll never forget how to spell Onus though, I can guarantee you that), I’ve signed table clothes with the most profound, meaningful and thankful message I could muster up in dining rooms with real China and crystal glasses only taken out for that ocassion. I’ve walked in the snow around adobe structures and eaten momos and strange tasting birthday cake in foreign countries with newly acquainted brothers. I’ve had a solidary Thanksgiving or two and those shared with only one person and way too much food for two people to eat. I’ve passed dishes of homemade mashed potatoes and bowls of cranberry sauce still in the shape of the can. I’ve eaten many varieties of pumpkin pies and longed for moms pecan pie when we were apart. Thanksgiving has never been what I imagined, long table with a feast of meats and vegetables and roots piled up, a centerpiece of a bountiful cornacopia (like we emulated in elementary school out of various beans) overflowing with breads and plums and small pumpkins and hopefully chocolate. Dozens of laughing, eating, cheerful family and friends lined up nearly as far as the eye can see, no, I’ve never experienced that imaginary Thanksgiving. No matter though, I’ve had a lot of interesting Thanksgivings, and I would never take any of them back. In fact, I’m so thankful I’ve had all these different kinds of Thanksgivings and I’m so thankful I’ve known so many wonderful sharing, kind people in my life. I’m thankful for every moment I’ve had on this earth, good or bad. I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving, no matter what shape it takes.
Went on a trip to a magical place called Paonia, Colorado a month or so ago. Peach farms, vineyards and winerys, goats and horses, teepees, yardsales and smiling faces, gardens and little girls with chickens. It was really hard to come home. Felt like I was leaving home to come back to the city where my stuff was.
This is a couple years old, but I just came across it. A lovely collaborative project between Macallan Whisky and the photographer Rankin. Macallan seems to have a appreciation for photography and part of their marketing program includes The Masters of Photography series. This particular collaboration involved Rankin shooting 1000 polaroids of the Macallan estate. Those original polaroids were then packaged in special edition 30 year old bottle/box sets. While this isn’t a mainstream execution with the sets commanding near $2k, I love this project. Exactly the way it is.
Another fine example of dedicating oneself to mastering the craft of creating something and creating it to the best of your ability. As I sit in Hong Kong reflecting on my journeys thus far, spending a day shopping looking for something original, hand crafted, and mostly finding big brands, knockoffs and tons and tons of “inspired by” products its apparent to me that we, Americans in particular, but humans as a whole, have an opportunity right now to regain the old ways of taking pride in creating something, slowly, meticulously and expertly. The process of doing this is spirit enriching for one just oneself, but for everyone that touches that thing. What I found most remarkable about this beautifully created video is not just that this man has dedicated his life to making a simple thing like bread and is doing it so amazingly, but that he is sharing that craft with others, and those other people have not copied his formula but instead, have taken it and made it their own through their particular circumstances. That’s incredible and stunningly inspirational to me. I hope it is for you too.
Thank you Dossier for posting this. Thank you Tartine for doing this.
My neighborhood is filled with inspiration. From my next door neighbor Mudpuppy who dutifully cranks out ceramic mushrooms and pots and small gnomes from his garage and actually makes a living doing it, to the dynamic duo DoubleButter down the street to the tamale lady that pushes her baby stroller filled with her homemade treats down the street every day. (don’t think she has a website yet). People just doing it. Just getting out there and doing what ever it takes to do it.
A few months ago we got a new addition to the neighborhood.. Stranahan’s Whiskey. And I went on a tour yesterday. A tiny company..Colorado bred..Colorado fed (ingredients are entirely Rocky Mountain harvested) this little 7 person company makes 2 barrels of whiskey a day. As they say on their site.. about 5 min worth of production for the big guys. Stranahan’s has an incredible attention to quality and a dedication to the product that is somewhat of a lost art form in the United States..land of importation of mass production for lower bottom dollar. Only the highest quality ingredients, special filtering processes, only the best part of the batch kept, only one time barrel use and a slow and steady aging process. Every single bottle is hand signed by the distiller. This company can’t keep up with demand..but still adhere to their standards despite a temptation to cut corners to increase output. If you have your finger on the pulse of America..I think you might feel like there is an increasing awareness of the value of handcrafted, locally made. Denims, leather bags, shoes, bicycles, cheeses, whiskeys, even quilts again. Maybe it’s tiring of cheaply made product, maybe it’s tiring of having the same thing everyone else has, maybe it’s a loyalty to supporting the people around you that are following their own path, maybe it’s wanting something in your life that breaths the spirit of love, dedication, and inspiration. Whatever it is, I like it. Cheers.
I’ve been thinking a lot about things. Tangible things. Things you eat. And drink. And wear. And sit on. In my business..for almost my entire career..I’ve dealt in things that aren’t really real. Digital. On screen. Advertising. Marketing. Web based. Film based even isn’t really real. You watch it, you listen to it..but you can’t really hold it. Now, keep in mind..I love the cerebral, the psychology of advertising. I love marketing. I love websites. BUT I think there is something really necessary about needing something hard in your hands. Something primal about making a jam and eating it, or sewing a skirt to wear. It was this void in my life, that led me to develop RedCamper years ago. My whole world was unreal up to that point. Websites. As cool as they can be, as much entertainment and education as you can get, as sophisticated as you can imagine, it’s still not real. You can’t run your hands across it and feel the sensation of a perfectly sanded tagline. You can’t smell the bouquet of a website.You can’t put your things in a integrated marketing campaign.
So, while I balance the tangible nature of the struggling little RedCamper with the intangible nature of part+parcel’s services, which pay my bills in a way that RedCamper never has been able to, I find my mind wandering. I took a career test in a moment of uncertainty. I have those occasionally. What should I REALLY be doing? And according to this test, I’m supposed to be in agriculture. Agriculture? Agriculture. Turns out though, I already thought of this, and dismissed it as another one of my many many dreams. But picture it..an organic apple farm, that sells gourmet apple butter and beautifully bottled apple cider and vinegar. Sowing from the land. Dirt under the nails, and sunshine on the face. Hard work, but making something to eat. That nourishes. That is so damn appealing. Sure, it needs marketing and advertising to sell and believe me, that’s part of the appeal for me..but the foundation of it is a real thing. An apple. Not an idea, or a picture.
Today I came across this article in the New York Times.
It’s about a man selling seltzer out of an old school wood slated truck, he hurt himself, and his customers miss him. I love this. I love the old school product, the way it’s delivered, the return to old world values, I love it all. It’s refreshing.
So, what’s it all mean for me? I don’t know. I’ll just keep moving forward the best I can. Maybe Dirty Dog Jam (my last pseudo business) might just make a comeback, delivered in an old school camper. Red probably.
