40 Days of Birthday: Day Twenty-Three {Looks Like We Made It: Baby Birthdays)

Today my husband, son, and I attended two birthday parties for little boys turning one year old. I like making birthday gifts, especially for my littlest friends. Alex received bunting with his name sewn on in felt letters. Otis received one of the animal costumes I’ve been working on all week for his animal themed party where all the little guests were meant to attend as their favorite animal. The big reveal: Otis is dressed as a Donkey and Lennon is dressed as Jenks the Beagle.

 

We’re still trying to get the network in our apartment sorted to the way we like it and the photos from Lennon’s first birthday party last month have been sitting on my husband’s computer, allowing me to forget to post about all the things I crafted for it. Attending  two lovely one year old’s birthday parties today reminded me that it was time to share what I’d made.

There was a minor moustache theme for our party. Lennon’s sweet Mr. Moustache mobile by Jaell und Tofta served as the inspiration. I was also very much influenced by the visual story of Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom, which we had seen a few weeks before Lennon’s party. I usually prefer a monochromatic, organized palette and the film inspired me to be more playful.

There were several items on my list to make for the party: fabric bunting, a banner with mustaches to hang above the cake table, a birthday boy hat for Lennon, and one homemade gift. There was also a table full of cookies, bars, and breads that I made in addition to the birthday cake and cupcakes. Lennon had his own birthday cake, sweetened with bananas and frosted with cream cheese. I made two trial runs of this cake—one as a test the weekend before and one for a “Cake Smash” photo shoot taken the day after his actual birthday. With all the madness at his party, I failed to get a really good shot of the cake that day. Luckily, there is a shot of a near identical cake taken at his photo shoot.

Lennon’s gift was made several months ago. It’s a pattern I created myself based on a few others I found online. His little Orca whale is made from his Papa’s old blue jeans.

Lennon’s birthday hat is made from two colors of yummy wool blend felt. The trim at the bottom is vintage and was thrifted by my mother in California.

The bunting is made from scraps of my favorite vintage material, all of which was purchased by my mother, the professional thrifter, at estate sales in California. Lennon’s "Little Mister" moustache banner is hand painted on burlap and is trimmed in vintage fabric.

Each child at the party was given a goodie bag that contained a bottle of bubbles, a thick piece of sidewalk chalk, and a fake mustache. I made the mustache from black felt and hot glued a knit ribbon in a circle to the back so one could wear it on one’s finger.

Vintage books—"The New Teachers Almanac" from 1980 and "838 Ways to Entertain a Child" from 1960—served as stands for the party menu and goodie bag explanation.

 As happy as I was with the outcome of our party, there is always a detail I feel like I missed here or there. It was an incredible amount of worthwhile work. I’m so very grateful it happens only once a year.

40 Days of Birthday: Day Twenty-Two

Felt Suit, 1970
Joseph Bueys

I was spoiled again today and went out on my own for a solo adventure. The only reason I count being alone a luxury is because I was headed to the Hamburger Bahnhof Museum of Modern Art, and while my husband would have enjoyed it, my son would not be amused. This way, I could take all the time I need while my son and husband play at home. My journey was bookended by two hefty bouts of sewing for the two baby birthday parties on Sunday and I was proud of myself to have, once again, dropped everything and do something for me.

Photography was not allowed at the Martin-Gropius-Bau so I didn’t bother bringing our nice camera, which was a shame since it seemed to not be an issue at Hamburger Bahnhof. Though there was a clear sign at the front depicting a cell phone with a slash through it, I followed the lead of others and took pictures with my iPhone.

The Hamburger Bahnhof is a huge space, being an old Bahn station over a hundred years ago, but there is little that lets you know this history. It has been converted to a several winged gallery, often awkwardly so, forcing you to retrace your steps, follow empty corridors and cross through the gift shop to get to the different exhibits.

I hadn’t checked out what was going on there before I went and was excited to see a Robert Rauschenberg exhibition had just started today. I’m keen on his work collaborating with theatre artists and choreographers during the 1960s and the exhibit was showing several films throughout its run, documenting this period. In the same wing hung the Warhols and the Lichtensteins, but what made my jaw drop were works from Cy Twombly and Anslem Kiefer:

Thyrsis, 1977
Cy Twombly
Photo source found here

Lillith am Roten Meer, 1990
Anslem Kiefer
Photo source found here

Lillith am Roten Meer, 1990
Anslem Kiefer
Photo source found here

I was told twice during my first ten minutes there to not stand so close to the paintings. On the one hand, I appreciate the lack of stanchions in front of the pieces, yet it’s all too tempting, especially with mixed media work and thick, juicy brush strokes. The first guard was very polite about it, even joking that she knew I would not touch the painting, but because others had, she was forced to tell me. The second guard bluntly demanded that I distance myself by an additional meter.

I moved on to the Martin Honert exhibit next which was more interactive and sculptural. Again, guards had to constantly tell people not to actually stand amongst the plastic people or touch the tiny house. For a second I considered placing my birthday crown on the head of a small polyurethane man for a photo opportunity. I considered that the artist would have loved my doing this or would have felt completely disrespected. I couldn’t take the chance that it would be the latter so I aborted my mission. This says nothing of the scolding I would have received from the guards.

Group Photo of Prefects, 2012
Martin Honert

The annex section of the museum housed an interesting exhibit on architecture which I went through maybe too quickly but I’d already been there for two hours at this point and the Joseph Beuys’ were waiting. What I love about the Beuys pieces is that they challenge your perception of beauty. What I also loved was how I believed none of his work had anything to do with beauty. It’s angry, raw, industrial, found, and decaying. I got slapped in the face. I was repulsed. I fell in love.

40 Days of Birthday: Day Twenty-One

Nicholas went to a football match tonight with his friend Stephen, the one person my husband knows who’s more excited about the game than he is. Stephen runs No Dice Magazine, an English language journal about Berlin Football. Going to a game with Stephen can include press room access and pretty good seats. I was happy for Nicholas.

I was happy for Amy, too. Home alone tonight, I would have a mommy moment. Lennon was in bed asleep just after Nicholas left for his game. I had some sewing to do on the little animal costumes but told myself I’d stop at 9pm to focus on me. Even though I didn’t finish as much as I’d set out to, true to my word, I put everything down at 9pm and started running the bath water.

On my Actual Birthday, I bought myself a six-euro “bath bomb” from Lush. It has been sitting on a shelf in our bathroom, still in the bag, for over two weeks. The bomb is called Phoenix Rising and Lush describes it as, “Royal purple and gold-dusted, with a cinnamon stick in the center, this gorgeous bomb sinks to the bottom of the tub when you toss it in, and slowly rises up, fizzing out a spicy apple and cinnamon scent,” fulfilling its metaphor. I hadn’t bothered with the German description on the bag—I’ve used Lush products before and they’re all good—I only discovered the above after the fact. It did do exactly what its description said and, maybe it’s been too long since I’ve taken a bath without a baby with me, but the effect was lovely and magical.

It sat at the bottom of the tub as it filled. I was cold so got in well before the bath was full. The bomb started fizzing from within and started spurting out aqua goodness. The water began to take on a disturbing color but I tried to think less about Jean-Paul Marat and Charlotte Corday and more about the flames associated with the bomb’s namesake. The cinnamon stick was there and such a sweet surprise. I love our bathtub and started to think of all the things I could buy to make this experience even better. A bath pillow is being seriously considered.

Muscles relaxed and skin silky smooth, I spent the rest of the night in bed, meditating my way to a deep sleep.

40 Days of Birthday: Day Twenty

Paul Newman, 1964
Photographed by Dennis Hopper

We set out as a family today to see Dennis Hopper: The Lost Album at the Martin-Gropius-Bau Museum. This was my first time at the museum. I hadn’t seen Dennis Hopper’s found photographs and only know him for his film work so I wasn’t especially excited to see the exhibit as much as I was to see the Gropius-Bau.

For Nicholas to come along, this outing was perhaps more expensive than some of the others—expect the zoo—but I was able to get a reduced rate being a student. They let Lennon in for free. The museum is beautiful with an ornate outside façade that had clearly taken some damage in WWII. Two decapitated statues, covered in suet, standing sentinel at the entrance.

Lennon was in his stroller and as soon as we walked into the Hopper exhibit and slowed things down to look at the photos, he was ready to get out and crawl around. Nicholas tried holding him for awhile but then just let him crawl through the exhibit. He charmed all the museum guards, luckily. I would say the only complaint people might have—and it’s perhaps a big one—is that Lennon was talking loudly and continuously. We hurried through.

Martin Luther King, Jr., 1965
Photographed by Dennis Hopper

Hopper’s lost photos are beautiful. He was at the epicenter of hip and had access to some beautiful iconic artistic scenes of the 1960s and 70s. I was excited to see his photos from the New York avant-garde performance scene—maybe before its figures became iconoclastic.

Niki de Saint Phalle (kneeling), 1963
Photographed by Dennis Hopper

We barely made it out of the Hopper exhibit in one piece and there were definitely elements I breezed through for the sake of my son. Unfortunately, we had also purchased a ticket to the Mythos Olympia: Kult und Spiele in der Antike exhibit on the first floor. I knew Nicholas would be interested in this as a historian. Lennon had no interest whatsoever. We began together in the first room of the exhibit and quickly decided that we should go through one at a time, taking turns hanging out with Lennon in the museum foyer. I raced through first.

There was a man with his two middle school aged daughters viewing the exhibit with the audio guide and headphones. I would have appreciated the audio guide at this exhibit, which essentially is a collection of artifacts from the ancient Olympia shrine in Greece. I always try to engage with genuine interest in this kind of exhibit: I want to be transported to the ancient time of the artifacts. Today my enthusiasm waned pretty quickly, however, looking at the small bits of metal and stone behind glass. I think the audio guide might have helped me stick with it for longer. Of course the exhibit has lengthy descriptions of the artifacts and statues all over the place that I didn’t have time to read, worried about Lennon. I realized that were I to do this day over, I would have come alone, purchased the guide and strolled for hours in both exhibits. I also look forward to taking Lennon to museums when he’s old enough to share that experience with me.

After a cookie and a drink, Nicholas and Lennon finally made their way through Mythos Olympia. Our take away was that Lennon was unequivocally too young to take to museums. 

Source for Dennis Hopper's photo's found here.

40 Days of Birthday: Day Nineteen

Today was a bit of a mirror image of last Wednesday. My excuse—I was feeling a bit under the weather and tired. Our son spent an entire half-day at Kita without Nicholas or I, including naptime. I had a doctor appointment in the morning but afterward decided to take advantage of childless time and bang out a couple of baby boy Halloween costumes, one of which must be ready by Sunday. Everything felt achy as I worked with as little effort possible. Maybe I’m being too ambitious with these animal suits when I’m feeling unwell, but I’m a sucker for sewing projects, even during my Birth-Days.

I had a fitting with the birthday boy whose mama was happy with how accurate it looks and how cozy the material is. I’d like to show you process photos but I’m afraid they would give away the secret of the animal species’ I’m making. There will be a grand reveal, of course. For those who saw the pattern cover in last week’s blog: I’m neither making a monkey nor a lamb.

I took an afternoon nap to revive myself for my class at Tatwerk—still just observing. I reckon the more I go and get a feel for where the students are in their work the better I’ll be able at sharing my knowledge with them. More times than not I’ve just had to jump into a classroom cold with no previous information about the students whatsoever. I’m very grateful to have the luxury of familiarity at Tatwerk—with this new curriculum, these new students from all over the world—except the U.S.—in this country where I’m still struggling to understand the culture.

No matter how tired and lousy I feel, being in the studio makes me forget about myself. My passion for the Work comes into the forefront. I actually felt physically better being at Tatwerk tonight. I’m going to try and remember this when I make my perfectionist’s excuses for not doing something, because I believe this could apply to any activity that I allow myself to be fully immersed in and present for. A walk in the Forest with My Family and the Lady Castle are both good examples. In any case, as was the situation last week, I came home inspired, my aches and pains and unfinished stitches forgotten.

40 Days of Birthday: Day Eighteen

Lennon stayed for naptime today at his Kita. When Nicholas and I went to pick him up, his teachers told us he fell asleep after just ten minutes. He was calm and smiling when we arrived. We went home as a family and got ourselves ready for our special Birth-Day journey.

We took a train to Grunewald, a beautiful forest right here in Berlin. I love forests. They are so fertile—the cycle of life and decay on their mossy floors. It had just rained so the forest was especially sparkly. We wore our galoshes for freedom of exploration.

A little friend of ours attends the Waldschule at the Waldmuseum in Grunewald. His mama drops him off at the forest school and he gets to learn and play amongst the trees. So very magical.

It was an autumn forest today. My father’s love for science and horticulture has made its mark on his daughter—I was so very excited to see all of the mushrooms! I also collected a king’s ransom worth of acorns. I’d have gathered more but they wouldn’t have fit in my pocket. I have a special craft project in mind using their tiny acorn hats.

On the way back to the train station, I was green with envy when I spotted a small house and garden—someone is lucky enough to live in a little cottage on the edge of Grunewald.

Grunewald Bahn Station includes Gleis 17, a historic track from which about 50,000 Jews were deported to concentration camps during the Holocaust. Today, a thoughtful memorial stands on both sides of the track.

As we waited for our train, I saw a woman who looked as though she might have been alive during World War II. I wish I could ask her what she thinks about Berlin and war and how to not give up on a city.

40 Days of Birthday: Day Seventeen

A sweet thing happened today. I was in our living room, on the floor cutting fabric, and I heard the sound of music from an accordion and trumpet. I ignored it at first but kept hearing it. I love an accordion. Out of our balcony window I saw the two musicians coming down our street, playing. As I was taking a picture of them, the accordion player looked up at me, smiled and presented his hat for payment. I gave him a nod and tossed down a two-euro coin, which he gracefully caught in that same hat. It was such an incredibly romantic European moment. I wish my photo did it justice.

 A silly thing happened today. On the spur of the moment, our building’s maintenance man told us he had time to finish some of the repairs in our kitchen that we’d been waiting on. It was decided, therefore, that I would make a solo mission of my Birth-Day today while Lennon and Nicholas supervised the kitchen work. I took the train a few stops to Wilmersdorf then caught the 115 bus. Unfortunately, this particular 115 was special and was only going a few stops. Never mind, the driver informed me that another would be coming in 10 minutes. Though the Brücke museum closed at 5pm, it was only 3:20pm at this point and I really just needed about an hour there. It’s a small place. I hopped on the next 115 which took me two stops before it too was at the end of its line. A little flabbergasted, I asked the driver where I’d gone wrong. He informed me that I was not on the 115 but the 249. I would need to walk back to the 115 stop, a block away. For the record, I’m certain it was marked 115 as it drove up. I swear. Ho hum. Finally at the proper stop, knowing the proper bus to take, my watch read 3:40pm. I certainly would arrive in time to see everything I needed to see.

Finally, the bus I’d waited so long for, simply and elegantly brought me to my destination. There was even a lovely, large sign near the bus stop pointing my way to the small museum. I walked down two suburban blocks that looked and smelled far more like Northern California than West Berlin. I really liked being there. As I arrived at the Brücke, I wondered if I’d be the only person there today, this late. The place was so small, they had a buzzer at the gate that you’d ring to be let in. So I rang.

So I rang.

I walked over to the glass enclosed sign-board at the front which informed me that the museum would be closed until October 23rd, a fact I now recalled having read on their website a couple of weeks ago. “Why didn’t I visit this museum earlier? It’s already Birth-Day Seventeen and the Brücke has been on my list for so long,” I queried to myself earlier this afternoon.

All answers were suddenly presented to me and it only took one train, three busses, and two suburban blocks for them to be found.