Maya Brenner: Right Here, Right Now

Maya is one of the first people I met when I moved to my neighborhood in Los Angeles eight years ago. One day she knocked on the front door, flashed her radiant smile and suddenly I was missing Manhattan a little bit less. At the time, she had a small jewelry business that she was running out of her home. 

Things have changed slightly since then. :)

(Maya Brenner, jewelry designer.)

Today, Maya's sexy, delicate jewelry is a cult favorite among the chic set and can be found in stores nationwide. (You've seen her state necklaces on every celebrity and in every magazine.) As she says, "The jewelry in my collection is personalized, feminine and fun. I like to take a trend and make it into something that will never go out of style."

Clockwise from top left: New York state necklace, Santorini necklace,
Shark Tooth necklace and Twilight necklace.  Available HERE.

Now before I continue, I want to quickly cut to the chase -- because there's a very special reason for the headline of this blog post.  

Right here, right now, and only for A Bloomsbury Life readers, Maya is offering an exclusive 25% discount off her entire website. Just enter the code "Lisa 25" at checkout. Thank you so much, Maya!

      

(Maya's website HERE.)

Not too long ago, Maya's home was featured in a lovely profile on the Glitter Guide and when I asked her how the shoot went, she sent me some photos. (Well-known LA designer Thomas Michna helped her reimagine the space.) Do you recognize the cross-stitch sampler behind her?

(Maya at home with my piece "On Aging", 2010. Burlap, thread.)

How about in this room?

Maya collects art from friends and family and the fact that she owns two of my pieces just thrills me to bits, I have to say. There is no better feeling than seeing something you've created bring happiness to others. 

("On the New Economy", 2010. Burlap, thread.)

Click HERE to see the full tour of Maya's home, but I can't resist showing you a few more photos. Look at this side chair upholstered in Oscar de la Renta embroidery. Isn't it so 1970's Marrakech? 

Below, Thomas recovered an antique gilt bench in a delicate brown pinstripe. Above it hangs a framed Louis Vuitton silk scarf. And the rug (also seen three photos above) was a mild-mannered beige until he cleverly overdyed it a stunning lilac.

Whenever I'm over at Maya's house, I find myself primping in her downstairs powder room more than I probably should -- but can you blame me? (Trust me, no matter what kind of a day you've had, you are camera-ready in this room.) The wallpaper was designed by Mary Kysar and is available at Walnut Wallpaper. A vibrant pattern like this is so perfect for a small space -- not being able to discern where the corners are actually makes the room feel bigger. 

I'm beginning to think coral just might be the happiest color.

(All photography of Maya's house by Sarah Yates.)

Breathe.

Dear Ones,

I am in the throes of installing my show at the ACME Gallery. Hopefully that will be finished tomorrow as Thursday my mother and sister fly into town, Friday is the cocktail party, and Saturday is the opening.

Will you forgive me if I go on hiatus the next few days to wrap up all the details, play hostess, collect my thoughts, and prepare for the big night?

I promise to take lots of photos and report back on everything. And thank you all for your previously voiced support on my artistic venture; it means the world to me.

The Best-Laid Plans

It was supposed to be a weekend of therapeutic relaxation. Piero and Luca left on Wednesday for a four-day ski trip and I was going to celebrate the completion of nine pieces (and five months of stitching) by watching movies, taking outrageously long bubble baths, seeing a friend or two and being as unproductive as humanly possible.

On Wednesday night, I poured myself a glass of tartly sweet raspberry Lambic...

...watched a PBS special called "The Buddha" narrated by Richard Gere...

...and crawled between crisp, lavender-scented sheets at 9:30pm. Absolute bliss.

My vacation was short-lived.

At 2:30am, I awoke with a start. A fully-formed poem had come to me in the middle of the night. At first I tried to ignore it, but the words became louder and more insistent. Was this some sort of sadistic joke my brain was playing on me? Why now? Each sampler takes me 60 to 75 hours to complete. My framer had given me an absolute final deadline of Monday to have all my pieces in. Four days away.

Over and over the words resounded in my head.

Finally, I got out of bed to write them down.

"On The Price of Beauty"

Fill me, plump me,

Smooth me out,

Inject me with

a girlish pout.

Keep me spotless

and unmarred,

Just put it on

my credit card.

By the time I had finished, I could envision the entire layout, motifs and all.

My decision had been made.

On Thursday, I sewed from 6am to midnight.

On Friday, I sewed from 9am to 9pm (minus 45 minutes for a supermarket run to purchase protein).

On Saturday, I sewed from 10am to 10pm (minus a fifteen minute break for the One Kings Lane sale.)

On Sunday I rose at 4:30 am, worked through sunup, took a brief mid-morning blogging break to report on the OKL sale, and plunged my needle into burlap for the very final stitch at 2:30pm. My back ached, my fingers ached and my retinas were threatening to go on strike.

But it was done.

By the time you read this, I'll be racing to the Valley to drop the final piece off at the framer's.

And then I'm going to watch a movie, take a bubble bath, see a friend or two and be as unproductive as humanly possible. Lying on the sofa and staring at the ceiling sounds pretty good too.

Back on Wednesday (maybe Thursday).

Revelations in Thread, Part Two

President's Day, 6:30 am

Spring has arrived in Hollywood. The recent rainstorms succeeded in stirring dormant roots with memory and desire. Heading downstairs this morning, I noticed our pink magnolia tree is suddenly rife with blossoms. When did that happen?

(2/15/10, Hollywood)

An image stirs to life in my brain as well: an elegiacal Edna St. Vincent Millay in upstate New York communing with another pink magnolia. Is that photo really ninety-seven years old? It could almost be from the latest Anthropologie catalog.

(Photograph by Arnold Genthe, 1913)

In the kitchen, Piero and Luca are preparing to go skiing for the day. The Giramonti men are not at their best in the morning. Before fortifications (espresso and cereal, respectively), they find it near impossible to communicate.

After caffeine and calories, however, they become exuberance personified.

Before I know it, they have packed the car and are driving away.

The house is silent and distraction-free.

Quickly, I whip up my new favorite breakfast. Two months ago, I went on a three-week detox cleanse, courtesy of "Clean", the new detox book by Alejandro Junger. I have felt like a superwoman ever since and have continued with one raw meal a day via his morning smoothies. More than their countless health benefits, I drink them because they're just so crazy delicious.

Peach-Almond-Cardamom Smoothie

(courtesy of "Clean" by Alejandro Junger)

1 cup almond milk

1 cup frozen peaches

1 tbsp. raw almond butter

1 tsp. agave syrup

1/2 tsp. cardamom powder

3 ice cubes

Blend well and enjoy every icy drop.

7:15 am

And now, thus fortified, with a massive day of sewing ahead of me, it's time to reveal to you the details about the big project that's been occupying the better part of my life for the past four months.

From May 1st-29th, I am having my first solo art show at the fabulous Acme Gallery in Beverly Hills. It's called "Stitching Up The Noughties" and of course, I would love you all to come.

I will be showing ten of my larger-than-life postmodern samplers (one of them, "Perky Boobies", I've already posted on). Just as traditional samplers of the past gave voice to their creators' innermost thoughts, my pieces provide a highly personal perspective on how I view life today. (Topics include celebrities, tabloids, the recession and plastic surgery and more.) As of this writing, six are completed, which means I haven't quite entered the home stretch yet. Hence, the boys' skiing trip today so that I could have some uninterrupted hours sewing words onto burlap.

I finished this one last night -- can you guess what it's about from this little sneak peek?

Revelations in Thread

I shall speak the truth: I don't much like my daughter sewing.

When she reads, she returns all bewildered and with flaming cheeks from the island where the chestful of precious stones is hidden, from the dismal castle where a poor orphan child is persecuted.

If she colors pictures, a semi-articulate song issues from her, increasing as the hum of bees around the privet.

But my daughter is silent when she sews, silent for hours on end, with her mouth firmly closed. She is silent, and she -- why not write down the word that frightens me -- she is thinking.

-- From Colette, "Earthly Paradise: An Autobiography of Colette Drawn From Her Lifetime Writings"

I've been on my hands and knees these last few days. Stitching, stitching stitching. Something very exciting is on the horizon for 2010 which I am not privy to talk about yet but will reveal in good time...and you will all be invited.

But I can tell you this: 1) I will need to be highly disciplined for the next five months, and 2) for the last three days, I have been cross-stitching words like these:

The piece I'm working on now is so large -- three by four feet, so far -- that the only way I can figure out how to sew it is to crouch over it. (Alternative suggestions would be roundly welcomed as my lower back is not amused.)

(My work space)

I have made out a very detailed work schedule for myself based on how much I need to stitch every day (minus weekends and vacations) and if my calculations are right, I am looking at a good 4-6 hours every day between now and April.

That's why there's only been one blog post this week, my darlings. Because I needed to take some time to plan, design, map out, calculate and, of course, count.

I will be back on Monday with a fabulous post about a fearless woman I met recently who I hope will inspire you as much as she has inspired me.

Now I must go. There's a row of hypodermic syringes waiting to be sewn up...

Embroidery: The Lord's Prayer

("The Lord's Prayer", embroidery floss on burlap,

38 in. high by 32 in. wide)

*click to enlarge*

As you can no doubt surmise from reading it, I cross-stitched this sampler in the heyday of the 1990's, when dotcom start-ups were sprouting millionaires overnight and our nation's giddy prosperity showed no signs of a slowdown.  (Just writing those words feels like I'm describing a time long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away.)  I was living in London and just about to move to Los Angeles.  The dollar was strong, the pound was weak and the It Bag was the ne plus ultra of accessories.  And as much as it pains me to admit it now, I was a chick obsessed.  We all were a bit, though, weren't we? I was never as bad as Carrie on "Sex and the City" with her $50,000 shoe addiction, but I don't even want to think how far the money I hemorrhaged on designer purses would have gone today in off-setting my recent renovation.

I want to believe I'm not like that anymore.  As much as I still gasp, shake and pine for fabulous design, my covetousness has been somewhat tamed.  I still crave luxury, but whereas before I needed one of each, now one will do.  My maternal grandparents, staunch Quakers the both of them, would be proud.

Of course, having said all that, if the Almighty should find a surplus of Prada couture and deign to send it my way, I think it would be terribly ungracious to refuse.

Embroidery: Perky Boobies

("Perky Boobies", embroidery floss on burlap,

4 ft. 7 in. high by 3 ft. 8 in. wide)

*click to enlarge*

I've gotten several requests to show some of my embroidery work on this blog and so I've decided to post them on an intermittent basis.

The above piece, part of my post-modern sampler series, came about after I had finally overdosed on all those addictive celebrity magazines (you know the ones I mean). After devouring about 1,000 of them, I realized that although the names and faces changed, there were really only three or four stories to be told: who's sleeping with who, who's breaking up with who, who's borderline anorexic and who's had plastic surgery.

The latter insight was the one that really stuck in my throat. It frustrated me that in today's world women are judged less on their talents and more on whether or not they are rocking a really great set of 36 D's.

Every stitch sewn in completing "Perky Boobies" was made as a small personal rebellion against a society which pressures women to be perfect and teaches men that the exterior is more important than what lies beneath.

Where do you stand?