We've been struggling to find words since last weekend's inaugural Eaux Claires festival. The palpable energy, kind spirits and unbelievable talent astounds us to a level we didn't know existed. Because of that, we will let the opening lines in the event branded Field Notes book sum it up as a whole, in which it says:
"Humility. It is the only suitable term. Even the world Welcome--which we hereby offer with all heart and heartiness--carries the implication that this place belongs to us, when in fact we belong to this place."
The mission behind linyage is, at large, is to plant where you've been rooted + grown. We took that concept behind our design philosophy and transpired it into the set up of our tent. From scouring to find the perfect vintage vanity, to Lindsay's grandfather's sewing machine that she sews on to this day, to a restored settee. . . everything was intentional. We covered much of our display in moss, thanks to the generosity of Brent Douglas, as to appear as though we too have been here for a while.
We offered custom made tops created especially for the festival, as well as a "create your own flower crown" station, we were able to share the linyage love in a way that was authentic to us. All in all, we felt so honored to be a vendor and wanted to make sure we offered something that most could identify with; even if that meant simply a place to sit in the shade.
As we created our vision and it organically evolved, so too did many-a-metaphor and lessons alike. Several times throughout the weekend, we would take a moment to step back, look at one another and laugh in (almost) disbelief : THIS. This is the place where we were born, have had our hearts broken, have had victories, have shared meals with our loved ones, still with us and passed. This soil, this valley, this roofline, holds the secrets that have been kept safe for anyone who has resided here. And perhaps the most beautiful part of this entire thing is the wealth of talent that has emerged from it, and that it could be shared on the platform from which it grew. And they called it Eaux Claires.
The patrons were not only receptive, but appreciative. They drank the Chippewa Valley kool-aid and tasted the unprecedented notes we too have been trying to interpret for years.
Said best by Mr. Vernon himself while closing the weekend out,
"Whatever's going on, it's culminating. Things are happening."