9.23.2014

Photoshop in Interior Design: the Good, Bad and Ugly

***This post is part of a series of home-related blog posts that I will be writing for Scovell Wolfe and Associates, Inc. 
- a residential remodeling and custom home builder in Kansas City. Given my personal blog often dealt 
with interior design and remodeling, I'll be sharing the beginnings of the posts here at We Are the Brewers. 
If you'd like to continue reading, hop over to Scovell Wolfe's ballin' new website.***

It's news to no one that what you see on the internet is not always true to form in real life. From photoshop to staging, a lot can happen before and after the photographer snaps the picture. The final picture is always affected by the perspective and taste of the photographer. And staging is HUGE in shooting interior spaces.

Dogs don't just happen to lie peacefully in the middle of the image.

Husbands and wives don't just happen to be chopping all their fresh, farmer's market produce five minutes before the shoot, when we swoop in and photograph the kitchen complete with a cutting board full of heirloom bounty.

No, my friends. Before the cameras come out, flowers are purchased. Vegetables bought. Even decor is brought in sometimes. Especially on national shoots. Anyway, I thought it'd be fun to show you a few rooms that have been photographed by different people to dramatically different ends. The first is a sweet little girl's room shot three separate ways. Or at least edited three separate ways.



What's interesting to me about this daybed scene is that from color to color, take to take, I actually go from liking the room, to NOT liking the room, to loving the room. Color is that big of a deal. I think I mainly want to bring home this concept to you: your house will NEVER look like it's straight out of a magazine because even the homes IN the magazines never looked like that. Whoever's daughter's room that is probably thought after seeing that final cut, dang it'd be cool if the paint was actually that color! What color is that anyway? And then they probably brought in the picture to their local Benjamin Moore and had them color sample it from their photograph. You feel me? It's just not real. You will never find THAT color if you walk into the paint store because THAT color is combination of particular lighting, a particular camera lens and a particular computer screen that doesn't exist in material form. Plus the windows in the picture are always washed out. The highlights a little too high. The lowlights a little too dreamy. The child isn't crying. Uh, hello. Now you know it's not real. And the kids are playing with wooden toys!! Really? Since when does a child play exclusively with wooden toys?? And pretty ones, too. Forget about brightly colored plastic legos with broken pieces and noisy sirens. But I'm getting carried away...!

Exhibit B in my quest to prove that pictures are deceiving is one of my favs. Mainly because I still can't quite figure it out.


Ok, the other version of this picture is totally worth seeing. It's ODDLY different!!! Like I wasn't even sure if it was the same room for a hot minute because it was just that different. So click over to my work blog to see it and a lot more...including ones from Jenna Lyons of J.Crew's townhouse.



***This post has been sponsored by Scovell Wolfe and Associates, Inc. 
However all opinions and bad jokes are my own.***

9.16.2014

Before and After: Porch Turned Mudroom

***This post is part of a series of home-related blog posts that I will be writing for Scovell Wolfe and Associates, Inc. 
- a residential remodeling and custom home builder in Kansas City. Given my personal blog often dealt 
with interior design and remodeling, I'll be sharing the beginnings of the posts here at We Are the Brewers. 
If you'd like to continue reading, hop over to Scovell Wolfe's ballin' new website.***


Part of my job that's my favorite is going out to get pictures of the projects we've completed. You get to skip the blood, sweat and tears and just embrace the 'after.' Lucky for me, it brings me into some pretty dang inspiring spaces. Last month I went out with a photographer and captured some shots of a laundry room and mudroom we finished this past year. I'm not sure if this before and after is actually more dramatic or less dramatic given what a transformation it was. It's basically an altogether different room. But nonetheless! Prior to the remodel, the room was - get this - an exterior screened in porch...


And with a lot of imagination and creativity on the part of John Wind, the architect, we were able to turn that porch into this covet-worthy mudroom and laundry room...


To see the rest of this picture and another of the laundry room, jump over to Scovell Wolfe's blog! There's also a list of online sources in the post's mood board so you can recreate this mudroom in your own home. Because, hello, who wouldn't want to recreate this mudroom?? Ok, maybe not you just yet, but that's only because you haven't seen the rest of the picture. So what are you waiting for? Stop reading my rambling and Click the link!




***This post has been sponsored by Scovell Wolfe and Associates, Inc. 
However, all opinions and bad jokes are my own.***

8.29.2014

It Wasn't Supposed To Be This Way

I wrote this over a year ago. Sitting at my parent's house reeling from having just placed Ryan in his first group home after a series of very difficult episodes. Ryan passed away yesterday morning. In his sleep - at his group home. We are indebted to the people that took care of him - namely Brandon and Fonda. They served their Lord faithfully in serving my brother. 

I don't know why I never posted this. I suppose it went from a blog post to more of a journal entry that I felt I should keep private. But now that Ryan's gone, I look back and see that what I wrote here gives me comfort. We always longed that Ryan would be whole. And even last Spring I knew that would only come in Heaven. Now I just need to remind myself that every minute of the day.



It wasn't supposed to be this way. That's what a friend told me on the phone this week when I couldn't explain why I was so upset about winning a court case we'd be fighting for over 2 years. It's because it wasn't supposed to be this way. Life wasn't designed to be lived like this. The garden of Eden wasn't supposed to end. We weren't supposed to be broken. We weren't supposed to eat the apple.

 It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Someone asked me recently how my brother Ryan was doing. But how do you sum up a life in a sentence? How do you puts words to things you don't understand? Things that haven't yet been revealed to you. How do I take everything that's culminated in the last 32 years and speak an answer?

How is Ryan?

He's okay. But, he's not the way he's supposed to be. He's broken. He's hurting. He's lucky. He's so unlucky. He's happy. He's crushed. He's lonely. He has new friends. He has community now. But, he's lonely. He's proud. He's scared. He's excited. He's angry. He's at peace. He's going to be okay. But he's not the way he's supposed to be.

This wasn't supposed to be this way.

My mom gave birth 32 years ago to a 'perfectly healthy' baby boy with perfectly abnormal chromosomes. And yet he has never been perfectly healthy. A slew of problems have followed him his whole life.

It was never a matter of finding the courage to do what was best for Ryan even though it was hard. It was never a matter of knowing what he needed and not being selfless enough to do it for him. It has always been a matter of not knowing what's best. Not knowing what's needed. All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put humpty dumpty back together again. No one could fix Ryan. No one has ever known what to do.

He's lived on a farm. He's lived with a family. His family. Not his family. Someone else's family. Another someone else's family. Again another family. Back to his family. He's gone to school. He's stayed home from school. He's gone to an adult day care. He's gone with my mom in the front seat of her car wherever she goes. He's stayed home and slept. He's gone to meetings with my dad. He's come to live with John and me. Nothing has worked. No one can put him back together again.

It hit me last night that Ryan is simply who we all try to hide within ourselves. He doesn't have an uglier heart than we do. He just doesn't know how to disguise his ugliness like we do. He doesn't have more anger than we do. He just doesn't know how to manage it. He doesn't have more insecurities than we do. He just doesn't know how to hide them. He doesn't have sillier longings than we do. He just doesn't know how to put a guard up like we do. He doesn't have more sin than we do. He just doesn't know how to conceal it like we do. And he doesn't deserve less love than we do. He just doesn't know how to ask for it. And sometimes receive it. He doesn't steal more than I do. I just covet with my eyes while he slips things in his pockets. He's slow to get off the couch and I'm slow to forgive. We're both slow. His just looks lazier. But my slowness is a bigger problem. A bigger offense. It's just that my IQ is high enough that I've found ways to hide it. And so have you. But Ryan hasn't.

Sometimes I let myself believe that I'm better than Ryan because I lead a more productive life than he does. Damn me. It's not about that. It's about us all being so imperfect that only Jesus can save us.

You fool me, too. You all fool me. With your perfect hair and your photoshopped pictures. With the car you drive, the husband you married, the kids you have. You fool me with your bright smile and your loud laugh. You fool me with your humor. You are not the problem! It's my problem for being fooled. I'm fooled into thinking you have it made.

Ryan fools no one. No one thinks he has it made. And thank God for that. Thank God that there is someone in my life who exposes my brokenness lest I think I have it made. Lest I think my life is about my house or my husband or my bank account.

Ryan is who I try to hide within myself. I have all the same problems he has - but they're hidden.

And yet there he is. There Ryan is. He's an easy target if you're trying to find someone to look at to make yourself feel better. It's simple to do.

Damn me for thinking Jesus died more for me on the cross than he did for Ryan. It's just not the truth. It's so clearly not the truth.

Anyway, it wasn't supposed to be this way. Ryan wasn't supposed to have extra chromosomes and I wasn't supposed to be so self-righteous. The world wasn't supposed to be so broken. But it is. And so our best-case scenario is still dreadful. There will be no complete satisfaction or complete joy this side of heaven. Just foretastes until Jesus comes back. Or we go to Him.

So maybe that's why after more than a dozen appeals, an attorney, two case managers, a handful of hearings and navigating an enormously defective government system in so far as it relates to mental health and disability, we won our case and still don't feel fully satisfied.

Ryan didn't fit within the mold of the "normal" kid but he didn't fit within the state's mold of a disabled kid either. And so we fought and fought and fought for services despite the State's best efforts to deny Ryan. Sometimes the fighting was so wrapped in red tape that we forgot to feel any emotion relating to Ryan while we were dealing with it. We became so focused on the paperwork and the technicalities, I could have been applying for a credit card instead of applying for a new life for my brother. But then the last documents were typed and scanned and compiled and packaged to be sent to the State. And the doing was done. And all that was left was to feel. For me anyway. To feel what all the words on all those documents meant.

They meant that Ryan wasn't the way he was supposed to be. And more specifically they meant that Ryan couldn't live with my parents anymore. It was too much. The same root sins we all have in common with Ryan were too unbridled in him to be left unchecked. He was too aggressive. Too dependent. Too exhausting. Too demanding. It wasn't working.

The hearing on Monday was a crisis hearing. It was an effort to bypass the 7 year waiting list we were on for Ryan to get residential and day services.

I asked our case manager that morning before we walked in if being emotional before the judges would affect our credibility. He said you're appealing for immediate services based on your desperation so of course you'll be emotional. But no need to cut an onion to make yourself cry, he said. You don't get it, I thought. I'm not worried about feigning sadness. Or how I'll pretend to be upset. I'm worried about holding it together. I'm worried about losing it. I'm worried about staying calm.

The judge had to go and get me a box of kleenex within the first five minutes. But why? This is what we wanted. This is what we worked for. This is what we needed.

I needed those kleenex because I knew that this - this, our best case scenario for Ryan - wasn't going to be enough for him. Or us. All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't do it. This isn't the way it was supposed to be. We're living in a broken, broken world. And nothing here can fix it. Only Jesus.

I've been thinking a lot about that lately. Longing. I talked about it a few days ago. Wrote out an excerpt from C.S. Lewis. He talked about the beauty we find within things here on Earth. And yet how that beauty is not the thing itself. It's longing. Longing for something beyond what we'll ever find here. He says, For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.

I just keep thinking about that with Ryan. About how we've not yet heard the tune, just the echo. Not yet found the flower, just the scent. I happened to be listening to a U2 song on the radio yesterday. I still haven't found what I'm looking for, they sing. And then they say something profoundly important. Bono sings that he believes in Kingdom Come. 


And that's it. That's the key.


This isn't the way things were supposed to be. But there's a kingdom coming where everything is redeemed. And if I don't believe in kingdom come, I have nothing. I can't hang my hopes on this new group home, though I welcome it as a blessing from God. I have to just keep believing that when the new kingdom comes the flower will be found. The song will be heard. I'll visit the country I've only as of now heard stories of. And Ryan will be as he was meant to be. He will be whole. Wholly whole. Wholly redeemed. Wholly in communion with his maker. And so will I. Praise God, so will I. Broken me. Self-righteous me. Confused me. 




I can't believe that only a short year after writing this, Ryan is indeed with his maker. His body is whole. The veil separating him from understanding has been lifted. I have to believe that. Pound that into my head and heart. It's the only thing to stop the bleeding in our home. The only way to dry the tears. Lord, Jesus, make me know it. Make me know your grace and mercy. Give me abounding trust in You. Give me unwavering faith. Give us surpassing peace that he is in your arms. 

Ryan's memorial will be at Christ Community in Brookside at 67th and Wornall. Monday, September 1st at 4pm. A reception will follow at the church. Ryan would have loved you to be there. Actually, HE would have loved to be there! He was a party lover. Please come if you can. And dress casually. Just like Ryan would have.

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