This holiday season as I travelled to work every morning, I had the pleasure of watching the Anthropologie holiday windows take shape at Rockefeller Center. Over a period of a few weeks, I enjoyed seeing the labor-intensive design evolve into a warm, yet beautifully fierce display.
One of my earliest memories is climbing to the very top of the pine tree next to my family's house. Bostered up the tree by my big brother, I remember being fearless as I climbed higher and higher to get to the "treehouse" he had made, which was comprised of a couple pieces of scrap wood nailed to the branches.
Growing up on the edge of a small town in Illinois, I spent many afternoons climbing trees and roaming the cornfields near my house with the neighborhood kids.
Repeated viewings of the movie Swiss Family Robinson further fueled my fantasies of a life in the trees.
To this day, even from my small apartment in Brooklyn, I still hold on to this dream that some day I will have my own treehouse retreat where I can swing in a hammock and enjoy the breeze.
One of my favorite projects from graduate school was the design of Samara, an Arts and Crafts style restaurant named after the helicopter-like seeds that fall from Maple trees. Into Samara I put in everything that I love: a glass elevator, a revolving floor, and cathedral ceilings.
While I was designing the structure, I treated Samara as though it was an actual building that could stand, striving to create realistic dimensions and functionality. However, in my head, it was pure fantasy until one day a creative director that I was interviewing with stated that it was "completely possible" and that I "just need to find the right contractor." As a designer, there is no greater feeling than to have someone understand and support the creations that you bring life.
Although Samara exists only on paper now, I like to think that it will be revisited in my future.