artisan-shops

Can’t wait for the new @MiiR retail store to open up! The store will be equal parts an artisan coffee shop, a place to pick up a beer on tap, and a place to check out the latest MiiR goodies, like this rad tumbler.

flickr

Maurocco

Handheld at 1/60th with a high res camera isn’t a great idea. But sometimes it can work, along with a wide aperture to convey the feeling of a place like this Castlemaine artisan shop. When you walk around in the shop, it is overwhelming in terms of texture, colour and old world feel, and the photo reflects that feeling - that there is simply too much to take in all at once.

I love this type of push-back against interior minimalism. It takes you back to a childhood feeling where things just invoke feelings directly, and inspire just because they are, without the need to dissect and intellectualize them.

A 50mm prime lens in a tight environment like this means you get little quanta of the overall space. However, I have cropped this shot because the drawback with this type of shooting is the ever-present persistence of large, out of focus and dull foreground objects.

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Some of the gemstones I’m going to turn into rings or pendants. Moss agate & moonstone. 

For news and giveaways please follow my Instagram: moonandserpent            ( Link )

And also my Etsy shop Moon & Serpent ( Link )


Silicon Valley Gothic

The entire block is coffee shops advertising free wifi.  You spot a taqueria in the corner, only to find that it has turned into an artisanal ice cream shop.  It also has free wifi.  The overlapping wifi networks create a pattern that cancels out.  You will have to use the internet from your phone.  They say this curse is because everything is built on Native American remains.

The Caltrain you’re on is stopped.  There has been a fatality on the tracks.  All your fellow passengers stare impassively into their phone screens as they voice their frustration on twitter: late to work again.  A Google Bus drives by.  A Facebook bus drives by.  An Uber bus drives by.  Another typical Monday.

You can’t tell if this is a fusion restaurant, a patisserie, or a coffee shop.  The menus no longer have decimal points.  The menus no longer have English words.  The menus are no longer paper.  There is no wait staff, only an iPad with Square and Yelp.  The food comes: it is three slices of avocado in squid ink.  It is 40.

You are developing an app.  Your friend is also developing an app.  So is your boss.  And your dog.  And your dogsitter.  He says his app is like “AirBnB but for dogs.”  You smile encouragingly and ask about the app store approval process.  Soon, you tell your app.  Soon it will have the sustenance it needs.  Your app shimmers ravenously.

There are more white men named Matt on your team than there are women.  You think about changing your name – Matt has such a nice ring to it.  At work, you high five the other Matts for their excellent choice in geeky t-shirts.  The woman has disappeared.  You don’t remember anything about her.  You invite everyone to play Settlers of Cataan.  Even Manpreet.  He will be a Matt soon enough.

You have lost track of how many public transit systems you’ve been on in the last 3 hours: VTA, Caltrain, BART, Muni, AC Transit, Samtrans.  You are still stuck in Redwood City.

There is a 3 bedroom house for sale for $3 million.  The website for the house plays the conversations of the original house owners.  They were Japanese immigrants from 1940.  They are asking to be let out of the dark box.  You click “subscribe.”

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Gorillas, we are thrilled to finally bring to you our Hive Hoops! These beautiful weights are flame formed into glass hoops, later sculpted and engraved by the glass artisans at our Cold Shop. These are available in two sizes, both with a wearable sizes of 6ga+ (4mm+), 4ga (5mm+) and 2ga (6mm+) . The Large version is 3" long and weighs 1oz (28g), while the Small version is 2 ¼" long and weighs 5/8 oz (17g). Only available in Crystal and Black!

moar headcanons - Eggsy never forgets his old neighbourhood

After the dust has settled from him tossing Dean out of the pub and onto his arse, back to whatever shitehole he came from of course.

His mum and sister live with him in a really nice house now, and he can buy them really nice things, and his sister is even going to go to a really nice school. Instead of trying to meet a new man, his mum is just spending a lot of time at her book club where they consume a quite shocking amount of Chardonnay, and if one of those sleek blonde opinionated women is around more than the others Eggsy finds himself grinning about it.

When mum isn’t looking of course.

But his old neighbourhood really does slowly start to change. Not in a way where there is suddenly an artisan cheese shop instead of a corner shop, and people who only drink cold pressed coffee instead of tea suddenly move in. In a way where suddenly none of Dean’s gang can be found anywhere in the city of London. The only man selling in the whole neighbourhood is a Buddhist who only grows his own and won’t sell anyone so much as a Rizla unless they listen to him talk about theories of non-violent resistance for three hours first. The local school lunch program lands a huge windfall of cash under mildly mysterious circumstances, as does the community arts centre. Test scores go shooting up and there are fewer bored teenagers hanging about in pubs and on corners. The local public library re-opens and a steady stream of students and isolated elderly folk go through it’s doors every day.

One morning a small dark girl goes missing from her pram, the hysterical mother shrieking and sobbing while a pair of grim-faced suits listen closely, and the amber alert barely has time to break the evening news before the girl re-appears in her front yard, holding balloons and smiling. The small dark girl is totally unharmed, but can’t explain what exactly has happened. Then the attending police officer finds a piece of paper pinned to her t-shirt with an address written on it.

It’s odd, reflects the police officer later, much much later while his partner holds him tight and gently caresses suds through his hair in their bath. There was barely anything human looking left in the red smudge that is what became of the whole human trafficking ring … but the jawbones, with just enough teeth left in for the coroner to identify.

‘Eggsy darling, do you think that was a bit much,’ murmurs Harry, wiping away some stray flecks of blood from his hairline. Eggsy stiffens, defensive, and Harry just sighs. ‘Oh nevermind,’ he murmurs, nuzzling into damp hair, and feels Eggsy grinning into his neck, before nipping at him and pulling him down for a kiss.

"Fuck capitalism!"

Typed the twentysomething on his brand-new MacBook as he sipped his high-priced low fat chai soy latte from his favorite artisan coffee shop and checked his iPhone 6s Plus for updates on when his Amazon order of Che Guevera’s biography was arriving by private courier. He was careful not to spill any coffee on the Bernie Sanders T-shirt he paid for with the color that matched his premium leather boots perfectly.

Gentrification but instead of upper to middle class white people moving in to open artisan cupcake shops and raise housing prices, it’s literally faeries. The Gentry. Eat a single bite of their cupcakes and you’re stuck there. Forever.