C A L L I N G . C A R D

It is customary for foreigners living abroad to have calling cards displaying their families vital statistics; names, phone numbers, email addresses, house address, etc. They can be especially useful here, in Shanghai, where few people speak English and where giving directions to taxi drivers can easily deposit you on the wrong side of the city for the mere tonal mispronunciation of a street name. It is also a prime opportunity to design something cool, communicative and representative of our family. Now, four months into our stay here, we are finally ready to send ours to the press. We unveil M,A & O.

Over time, the need to be expedient has lead me to sign emails and letters with M, A & O (Matt, Anne & Otto). The look and sound of M, A & O grew on us and we decided to use this assemblage of letters as the primary graphic on our calling card. We chose the color red, of course, our favorite color as well what would be the "official" color of China if there were one. We also kind of like the subtle word play of MAO, as in Chairman Mao Zedong, you can't get more Chinese than this tyrannical man who is regarded by most Chinese to have been the savior of the nation. We can't wait to start passing these out to our acquaintances so that they may easily find their way to us and our home.

C A L A C A T T A . I S . N O T . A . C I T Y .

I N . I N D I A

One of my favorite aspects of being in the design profession is getting to live vicariously through our clients.  There is a certain sense of satisfaction and contentment in helping someone else obtain the objects, materials and types of spaces I covet or desire for myself.  

One such material, for me, is Calacatta Marble.  That's Calacatta, not Calcutta.  

There is a luminosity to the milky white marble and a depth in the veining of greys and browns that I find stunning.  Calacatta has a crispness and clarity that some other, more popular varieties of marble can't claim.  It is a material that is simultaneously modern and timeless.   

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all photos from the Davies-Bahrenberg Residence

designed by Tierney Conner Design Studio

S O N G . F A N G . T E A

For the first couple of weeks in our new city, I reverted to drinking coffee first thing in the morning after years of enjoying a steaming glass of tea. I did not bring my favorite tea and my first few attempts to find an equivalent proved unsuccessful. That is, until I came across “Song Fang Maison de The” in my new neighborhood.

There is no shortage of tea in China, as you probably know, so when I strolled by this spot I didn’t pay particular attention to it, until I caught a glimpse of their stunning logo. My eyes were drawn to the colors immediately. Weeks later, I have not grown tired of gazing upon the simple rendition of the tea farmers on the somewhat vintage, somewhat modern colored background.

The graphic approach is the use of simple colors, bold form and an illustrative style that is reminiscent of the Communist Era propaganda posters that are prevalent throughout China. The colors, at first, seem standard, but thinking about it further, I doubt that any other blue and any other red would be as stunning of a combination.

The shop itself is a beautifully restored three level building in the former French Concession. I love, upon first entering the space, to be greeted by the wall of perfectly turquoise tins of tea displaying the logo that I speak so highly of. A view that is simple at first glance, but offers layers of detail once you are closer to it.

The tea is fabulous as well. A perfect earl grey blue (which satisfies my craving for the tea I enjoyed at home) and a Lhasa blend, which is a black tea with oolong and vanilla, have quickly become lone occupants in my empty cabinet. Every time I reach in to retrieve the little turquoise package, so thoughtfully designed, and prepare a cup, I am thoroughly delighted. The pleasure that this beautiful package brings to me is a constant reminder of how design is so important to all the little things that make up our daily life.

G R E E N . T H I N G

As an urban-o-phile who finds density and metropolitan living appealing, descriptions of Shanghai resonate deeply with me.  And while Oakland is a large, bustling and vibrant, city, it is on a much smaller scale and level of concentration.  Sometimes I wish for greater density and proximity--for the excitement and energy that is cultivated by those conditions. 

Fortunately, for me, Spring has arrived.  Spring is the season that satisfies my passion for urbanity– and does so in unexpected ways.  For it is in spring that the Bay Area bursts into life.  In this dry Mediterranean climate, the period when the winter rains transition to dry, warm days, provides the fleeting window of opportunity for plants to grow and thrive--and they do so with vigor.  There is a sudden explosion of green in our landscape. Even the cracks in the sidewalk become hospitable to life, as every green thing shoots forth tender new growth and our cityscape is lush and verdant for a few short months. 

Some people question the concept of seasonal change in Northern California.  The signs may be more subtle, but in my mind that makes them all the more poetic.  There is no denying that spring here is a green thing.  But it is also about light.  As the days lengthen and cloudy days give way to blue sky, spring brings with it a reminder of the changing position of the sun.  Still low in the sky for most of the day, sunlight in spring, is able to sneak under eaves and through windows, back-lighting curtains and the new leaves of trees in much the same way.  

There is a luminosity to spring that makes lazy Sundays in bed, with windows open,  glowing curtains billowing in the breeze, and the sounds of cars and people passing by on the street, a truly unique and wonderful city experience.

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All photos are from projects designed by Tierney Conner Design Studio:

euphorbia & hellebores • healdsburg garden • oakland garden

nursery room • phormium 'gold sword'

master bedroom • persimmon tree

L A N E . H O U S E

I love this lane house off of Taixing Road in the Jingan district of Shanghai.  After days of looking at slick high-rise apartments as potential living spaces, we finally stumbled upon this newly renovated jewel.  Lane houses are completely vertical - this one is linked by an original dark wood stair that winds its way between 8 half levels.  We wondered, if living on this many levels, our family of three would be disconnected from each other.  Deep down, I was thrilled at the promise of endless trips up and down these stairs - sliding my hands along the smooth railing, feeling with my feet the worn noses of the treads which, after years of use, had all transformed into gentle curves.  As a new transplant to a part of the world that I had no history with, I thought that maybe engaging this old stair, living my life on the many different levels that it leads to, would ground me in my new home.

The other details of the house are beautiful too.  The leaded glass in the doors that lead to the private courtyard are reminiscent of the stair railing accents.  The rough tiled walls against the smooth white plaster weave together the textures of old and new.  The insertion of glass block and glass ceilings reflect natural light on the dark wood floors.  The slatted wood sliding doors of the master bedroom hide storage space and create a semi-transparent entry to the tucked away master bath.   

Alas, this is not the house in which we chose to live the next two yeas of our lives.  A different lane house in the quiet, construction free, tree lined streets of the former French Concession area - dotted with amazing boutiques, bars and restaurants - had a stronger calling.  But I think about this house often as it was the first place in Shanghai where I could picture our life clearly. We are so strongly connected to the places that we live and somehow, even though I am usually drawn to modern design, I love the history and architecture of old houses.  

U G L Y . D U M P L I N G

In Shanghai, there is a street in Puxi called Wujiang Lu.  This one block promenade is a street food lovers paradise – with numerous stands offering every kind of skewer and dumpling one can imagine, and plenty of cold beers to accompany them (which by the way, you can consume as you stroll down the street savoring the scene).

I love this piece of the city.  It is confused and chaotic, and nothing seems to have been designed – an interesting concept for a designer (and self-diagnosed neat freak perfectionist) who spends much of her time figuring out the perfect “look and feel” for every one of life’s little components. This is a place where nothing aligns, text and images are not synchronized, the built environment is disjointed and dirty, the countless mechanical units are not concealed, and the pedestrians have no organized way of using and moving through the space.  But somehow, this place satisfies my senses as well as a perfect minimalist composition.  This is a space where function rules, and the result is nothing less than amazing. 

 Of course, my awe of this spot may have something to do with the food.  I have always heard that crowds don’t lie, and this seems to be the case at Yang’s Fry Dumpling stand.  I have been there 4 times in the first week to enjoy their sole offering, in my novice opinion, the tastiest pork dumpling in all of Shanghai. 

 The dumpling itself, along with its packaging, is not very beautiful, but it serves its purpose perfectly.  After paying 4.5 RMB for a package of 4 dumplings (about 65 cents), the cook scoops out 4 morsels as fast as he can and plops them onto a crookedly placed piece of tissue in a dull styrofoam container.  You are on your own after this.  You must squeeze your way into the depths of the stand to where the vinegar, chilies and chopsticks await.  After dousing the dumplings with these accoutrements, its back out to the alley to find a perfect piece of pavement on which to dine (provided you already have your cold Tsing Tao in hand).

These things are hot!  You need to bite a small hole in the dumpling and suck out the steaming soupy liquid first.  Then, I usually try to get some of the crispy bottom, some of the pork filling, and some of the soft sesame seed laden top in each bite, which is difficult but worth the effort.  Each dumpling takes me just over a minute to put down, and all too soon the amazing culinary experience is over.  I am left looking down into my empty container of deliciousness with a lingering craving for more that seems to bring me back to this spot every couple of days.  The joy found in eating these scrumptious ugly dumplings shapes this experience as much as the layered spatial concoction that one travels though enroute to Yang’s.   It acts, for me, as a simple reminder that beauty is not always the result of brilliant design.

S T O N E . F L O W E R

For Anne's birthday last year, we went to a fabulous San Francisco nursery where she was to pick out her own present - something that made her heart sing, but that she would never buy for herself.  What she picked wasn't a plant at all, but a stone dish shaped like a flower.  We both fell in love with it, for reasons we weren't quite sure of at the time.  What to do with this astonishingly heavy, lovely little luxury?  Once we realized that the answer was paperclips (of course), we then knew why this dish held so much value.  To have something so precious and beautifully crafted, offset something so functional, simple and thoughtfully designed was instantly aligned with our own sensibilities. 

As Anne now sets off for a two-year stint in Shanghai, she leaves the bowl with me.  It sits here upon my desk, reminding me of simple ideas seen in inspiring ways.  So now we write, to keep up the daily conversations that have been the sustenance of our little design firm over the past four years.  We write to share our discoveries, in love, life, work and play, over the coming seasons.