23 Feb 2013
I really admire Sarah Maine. She isn’t just brainy (she went to Wesleyan and then went on to earn a MBA that focused on sustainbility) but she’s a food lover, community builder and she lives what she believes. For starters, she’s a cheesemonger. Could there be a better job title anywhere? Methinks not! On top of that bit of awesomeness, she has a small Etsy concern, The Finest Kind, where Sarah, a talented metalsmith, sells — among other things — absinthe spoons. Yes. Absinthe spoons. And they are lovingly crafted. And that’s when she’s not acting as the force behind the playful food site, Recipe Relay. In short, she’s the bee’s knees.
Without further ado, Sarah’s ruminations on the good life.
The good life, what is that? Everyone can agree that the love of friends and family, a comfortable shelter and a full belly are essential ingredients for a good life. I would argue further that goodness lies in how each of us arranges and connects those elements. The web we make of thoughts, deeds, words and objects that carries the unique impression of our hand.
My childhood was draped across Southeast Asia, looping around Indonesia, then up to Sri Lanka before traversing oceans and continents to land in Italy, and finally in the US. I saw many different ways of living, of permuting the elements of people, places and things. The result is an internal web that is far reaching and not always orderly; the warmth of beauty is snarled with cold longing; happy strings may be kinked with sadness. Every twist and knot has been worked into being by myself and others, places and things. My very own hand made life.
I currently live in New York City, a super-organism that can seem specifically evolved to spoil your day, your week, your year, or even your life. In this city, things that make life good can act as amulets, cushioning against rough edges. Space is precious; light is coveted; beauty and practicality are the mismatched roommates of most New York apartments. Fashioning a good life here requires an openness and a readiness to relate to people on a level beyond words and interactions, it is necessary to listen to the story of things.
When something new enters my life, I look for a message of care, that warm sticky fact of connection that tells me something of the intentions of the originator or maker. Conversely, when I do things or make things I hope to tell my own story of beauty and energy and thoughtfulness through design.
Some of Sarah’s images from Instagram: