Many of you have been asking to see my apartment…so, here it is! It’s huge, which I wasn’t expecting — I pretty much gasped when I opened the door for the first time. It’s probably twice the size of my flat in London, and for only two people.
Then again, this isn’t London, so there’s a tradeoff.
My building used to be an 11-floor Macy’s store, so the apartment is a converted loft style with exposed piping. It’s not decorated at all right now, but I really love the high ceilings — I think they’re what make the space so conducive to writing. I usually feel too cramped and distracted to write in my own room, but I’ve been so focused here.
“People associate themselves with their neighborhoods, it’s a big part of how locals communicate with each other.”
–Jennifer Beorkrem, founder.
I’m in love with Ork Posters! Really simple, clean but clever design, which is generally the type of design I’m attracted to. Definitely will invest in 2 or 3 for my apartment next year.
Lauched in 2007, Ork works with local printing presses, and each poster is checked individually for misprints. The company has even turned down giants like Urban Outfitters and Macy’s to focus on building a loyal client base. The posters are pretty inexpensive ($18-$35) because Ork spends $0 on advertising.
I like the idea of dividing a city into its neighborhoods. Because cities never have a single comprehensive identity: so often, neighborhoods are a city of their own, harboring unique customs and fashions.
These posters made me think of the dorm life at the Notre Dame campus, actually. Just like being from Williamsburg, Brooklyn will immediately put you into context to a stranger, the fact that you’re a Zahm guy or a BP girl says something. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, but I kind of like the idea of an ND-inspired poster divided by dorms…
Ork Posters can stand alone, but go best with a contrasting black or white frame.
More Toledo Then & Now posts to come. For now, I want you to get a sense of the emptiness in Toledo that I mentioned in my last post, the contrast between tall buildings and beautiful architecture, and “For Sale” signs in just about every other shop window. I don’t want to create the impression that Toledo is a terrible city to live in, because it’s not. Just like with South Bend, if you open up to it, there are things to do in Toledo. And there is definitely history.
It’s just that Toledo’s past seems to hover over every street, over every building that was once “grand” and isn’t anymore. The past is so present; elderly people smile and shake their heads at the thought of the “old days.” It’s really unsettling to watch a Walmart bag roll for a mile down a major street, never passing a car or another person. Because this is not a rural town, this is a city.
Which has made me question the definition of “city”–what even makes a city a city? Is it the big buildings? The arts scene? The people? Can a city ever lose its “cityness?”
I get the sense Toledo has lost something that can never be recovered. That’s what I want to pinpoint through these posts.
Sometimes I’ll take a walk around my apartment after work hours or on a weekend, and literally pass no one on the streets.
I’m spending the summer working for the Toledo Blade in Toledo, Ohio as a reporting intern. Friends and family keep asking me, “From London to Toledo–why?” and I can honestly say that although Toledo’s no London, no New York, I like it here. I get to write every day and work with amazing people. I’m getting solid reporting experience, and am finding out a lot about the city while doing it.
It was Memorial Day Weekend when my parents helped me move in to my new apartment (which is HUGE, by the way). When we drove up to the parking lot in our Target-stuffed Suburban, dusk just starting to fall, I had mixed feelings about the whole thing. The building didn’t look all that nice from the outside. And there was absolutely nothing going on, absolutely no one on the streets, which was kind of eerie. The city is somewhat of a ghost town– when business people leave at 6 p.m., the downtown empties out. After work hours, it becomes nearly impossible to find a place to eat, except for a handful of scattered restaurants and bars. Sundays are just a lost cause.
There’s not much socially going on in Toledo, but there is always news.
Toledo is a depressed city. Once bustling and prosperous, the decline of the automotive industry and the white flight epidemic left it deflated. But everywhere, still, you see remnants of the past– beautiful Victorian houses from the 1900s, a grand theater, even hot dog joints that were opened in the 20s and haven’t changed much since. It’s interesting seeing the juxtaposition of majestic architecture and spreading urban decay, and I’m intrigued by this idea of what Toledo used to be.
I’ve been scrolling through the Toledo Library‘s archives of old photos just to get a sense of it. Pictured above is a street right in the downtown, Madison Avenue. It’s hard to imagine so many people once crowded these streets, because today they’re almost always empty.
I’ll be posting more “then and now” pictures later.
This is the same street pictured above, Madison Avenue, today.
The Lennon Wall in Prague used to be a portrait of John Lennon that’s been covered over since the 1980s with layers upon layers of paint. People began writing messages of freedom when the country was still under Communist rule. It was painted over several times by authorities, but always sprang back, more colorful than before.
Above is a photo montage of pictures I took while visiting the Wall in April. The Wall symbolizes freedom, peace, and unity. But what I found so striking about it was how the graffiti can be looked at in one of two ways: either as a whole, a collaboration of colors built over thirty years, or as thousands of individual phrases, words, and signatures, each existing in their own space. And because of the context, even the messiest, most indecipherable handwriting means something here.
If last week’s scorching temperatures keep up this summer, there will be some nights you just want to stay in and avoid the heat. At least in Toledo last week it was just too hot to even leave the apartment and go walking around the area. Solution? Throw a cocktail party at your place. Admittedly, though, staying in can get to be the same old thing.
What other way to change things up than to switch the oversize, dollar bags of ice from Stop and Shop for custom-made cubes?
This is just ridiculous, but I have to admit I would totally have a “gin and titonic party.” It’s definitely one of those cases when girls would say “Oh my God, that’s so cute!” and guys would say, “That stupid titonic takes up way too much room in my cup– give me more gin.” Oh well, if it’s my party you’re getting the boat-shaped chunk of ice.
49 days until Shark Week. Get ready with these fin-shaped ice trays.
Pi-shaped ice cubes? I’m not sure if this is socially acceptable. Then again, none of these are, really.
I don’t know what it is about coffee. I like to drink it, I like to write about it, I like to photograph it. Coffee has even found its way into my everyday attire by way of those inevitable spills when I’m walking too fast (which is usually.)
Anyway, since I arrived home from Europe a few weeks ago and am feeling particularly nostalgic for those café au laits, I thought this post would be appropriate. I present you: “Coffee Portraits.”
Cafe latte, Venice, ItalyCafe americano, Salzburg, AustriaLatte with cinnamon and cocoa powder, outside Windsor Castle, Windsor, UKOk, not coffee, but the perfect complement! Salzburg, AustriaCafe americano, Prague, Czech RepublicThe ice coffees in Prague come with ice cream and whipped cream! Amazing.Cafe au lait, Paris, FranceCoffee. Ridgewood, New Jersey.
As many of you know, I’ve been wanting to start a blog for some time. I love writing, photography, and aimless searching online, so a blog always seemed to be the perfect fusion of my interests.
The summer after my first year in college I interned at a New York based company called Magnet Media, writing blog posts for the photography and design channels of their website, Zoom In Online (Now The Photoletariat). Each day, I’d take my free trade coffee up to the tenth floor of the Chelsea office building, feeling as hipster as a freshman Notre Dame student from a preppy suburban town could feel. I loved my job and was fascinated by the blog world, by how entire communities existed online and artists exchanged ideas through comments and links and shoutouts.
But then summer ended and school started and I forgot about my quirky little pastime. Two years later, I’m finally giving it another try. This blog will contain my own creative writing and photography and finds from the design world.
SKETCHING A STORY 
