My uncle Kaffe Fassett and his collaborator Brandon Mably are in town, always something to look forward to. They are in Lafayette, CA of all places, the quiet East Bay hamlet just over the hill from me, teaching a workshop, this one about quilts. But as it goes with them, you may be learning about quilts, or knitting, or painting, or what have you, but what you are really engaged in is learning about color–glorious color (as was also the name of Kaffe’s first book). How to see it, use it, play with it, and bring it into everything you do. My uncle is brilliant at it (Brandon is no slouch either, now with his own line of fabrics and 2 books out), his London flat is a joyous celebration of rich hues in one room, soft pastels in another, a series of vibrant hand painted tiles in the bathroom that I have been in love with since I first saw them years ago; bright backdrops against thick stripes, squares, or circles, and great swathes of fabrics with bold flowers in multi color ways–all of this, and I mean all frames a jumble of antique china, teacups, bottles, plates, buttons, yarns, knitware, and odds and ends picked up from junk shops on their travels.  It is enough to drive one mad if you are into totally serene, Morandi like set-ups (spaces that I admire none-the-less), but for someone like me, it is heaven, completely comforting, inspiring, and always draws me in. 

On Tuesday, I offered to drive Brandon to Sabastopol, a small country town north of San Francisco that is known for its apple farms and Waldorf schools, where he had to meet a client. As has always been my experience, get on the bandwagon while they are around and you are sure to have an adventure, and this day was no different. So off we went–Brandon, my son Trevor, and me. After weaving our way down a country lane, past tractors and old barns (“We have to shoot a book here,” Brandon said, eyeing all the splendor and thinking like the designer that he is) we arrived at an unassuming, but comfortable house overlooking a grassy meadow where 3 Sicilian donkeys mingled under a far off tree along with a 30 year-old white mare; closer to home there was a very happy pig, and a sweet little dog that came out to greet us. Ancient roses on the verge of blooming framed the walkway to their studio, at one time an old goat barn, still with its original, heavy wooden doors. This is the home of Alchemy Yarns, run by Gina and Austin Wilde, southern transplants with an eye for color and textiles and the creative energy to match my British charge. As Brandon explained to me on the way up, he first met them at a textile show, drawn to their wools because of the colors, and they immediately went mad for each other–were instant pals, and he’s been working with their yarn ever since. The affection was mutual, and the connections to designers, books, art making, ideas, color, fabrics and the likes ran deep, and within minutes we were swapping stories, imagining new ideas, talking types of wool and sheep and why they don’t have their own, their sustainable practices, the organizations they support, all of this while also studying a fantastic, crazy shawl dotted with vibrant, crocheted flowers (made by a 75 year old artist friend of theirs) draped over a mannequin in their living room. Next to that was another mannequin in a white, beaded dress, and Gina herself, wore a tailored house-dress that was to die for–made of raw silk, I think, in deep jade, a dress you could easily go out on the town in, and just as easily wear it, as she did, trampling into the fields to bring in the donkeys.

Our day went on; we visited Gina’s work space–a basement room where she hand paints each skein (nothing high-tech here) without chemicals, steams them over an open fire, and then dries the wool au natural; we then went into the studio to look at the finished yarns–exquisite colors of sky and earth, water, and minerals all lining the walls, and talked shop (They sent me home with a gorgeous, 100% bamboo yarn, a rich evergreen with copper shades, to make a scarf–it almost feels like raffia before it is worked) and Brandon took a dozen skeins of various colorways; we then hopped in the car and made our way to lunch, a round about through Sonoma County’s rolling hills, vineyards, old farms, and back into town, where we had a meal at a simple diner and talked about family, food,  blogging, art making and where to take their business next. I too was swept in by their vibrant energy, warmth, and color sense, and yet just as much, by how they kept things simple and close to home, working hard to create a sustainable business for their family, and the families of those that work with them.

Several days later, now, I think–this is what its all about, life and living that is, and perhaps all along what my grandparents were thinking when they moved to Big Sur, took up in a small log cabin with their 5 kids, set them free and barefoot, and began imagining (and creating) a colorful life, one that would ultimately become Nepenthe. Not to paint it all rosy, because it was not; there were difficulties, plenty of them in fact, but ultimately the heart and passion for what they were doing and wanted to do won out and Nepenthe is still there. They left behind a thriving legacy that is richly textured and a multitude of shades, closely informed by such creativity and drive. To live a life filled with heart and inspiration, a patchwork of colorful people and stories, is what they strived for and the gift they shared. It is what my uncle Kaffe has manifested in his own life, drawing from the threads of his childhood experiences, and in turn spends a great deal of his time, teaching and inspiring others. Brandon does the same; Gina and Austin do as well. I come home from that day in the country feeling renewed, ready to return to my own work and family, putting words on paper, paint on canvas, and sharing the pleasures and colors of the table, the unique gift my grandmother passed down to me, and what is at the heart of everything I do.