The Modern Caravan Celebrates One Year in Business

What a year it's been. 

It's true what they say: starting a business is a hell of a lotta work. You're not going to get paid for the extra hours you put in, you're going to feel like it's going to break you, and you'll wonder if you're crazy for ever starting it. 

We've felt and experienced all of these things and more this past year, and we wanted to share a little behind the scenes and what we've learned...as well as the direction we're slowly heading. 

What we've learned: 

- Renovating an Airstream for yourself, even on a time crunch (been there...now three times), is nothing like renovating for a client and running a business at the same time. Ordering, design decisions with clients, client budgeting, and the renovation itself all have to happen during business hours and simultaneously. You may know what the right product is, but it's ultimately the client's decision. On top of that, we're answering emails, updating a website, trying to stay on top of social media, doing accounting/bookkeeping, having meetings, scheduling, working with consultants and designers...the list goes on. And that's just work. That's not our personal life (wait...what's that?). There's a lot more stress when the deadlines for the next two years of renovations are stretching out before you like dominos...knock over one and the entire thing's going down. 

- We've had some really shit moments this past year and honestly wondered if we can hack this. Traveling to our renovations means we're living on our clients' turf: we don't have separation from work. We also live in an Airstream ourselves, which...for those of you who also live in a tiny wheeled home can attest, is more work than living in something sticks and bricks - no sewage system is carting away our waste. We have a portable grey tank and a composting toilet - dealing with it ourselves, along with the constant cleaning and dishes doing (we only have so many)...felt like more work on top of more work on top of more work. We felt at more than one interval that we had too much going on - which is absolutely true. You know how some people say they are so busy during a small talk conversation, but then you see them at the water cooler after the weekend and they spent the entire thing lounging around, hitting up the farmers' market, and brunching? Yeah. We're not those people - when we say we're busy, it's not a small talk response. 

- We need a team. We need to delegate. If we want to continue working at this level, we need more hands on deck. Unfortunately, we're not there yet financially or physically. We would need to have a stationary location and hire some folks who live nearby (or are willing to relocate). We can't - and don't have to - do it all. We get a lot of messages that we're inspiring because we do (it all), but let us be honest: it's not possible and it's NOT worth it. We aren't going to keep sacrificing personal time/family time and be constantly burnt out to be "inspiring". That shouldn't be inspiring! Women who kick ass, sure, while loving their family and kid first and foremost - that should. Taking on too much isn't. 

- We don't know what we're doing, but we do. We don't have business degrees. We aren't contractors. We don't use AutoCAD, we sketch on paper and communicate our ideas through words and conversation. What we do know is that we're passionate and hard-working and we now have experience. We are prepping to start our sixth renovation in less than four years. We believe in living tiny. We believe in traveling and what it can do for human beings, and how these things can bring experiences and awareness and truth and shift our perspectives on life and the human condition. The clients we work with will understand that - and want that. They have, and do. They understand that our work isn't an exact science, or at least, not the way we do it. What they get in the end, however, is a space that's built well, that reflects who they are, and is special because there's a lot of love and passion and hard work that went into it. 

What's next: 

- This year, we've got some things in the works for you. We've been working with a fantastic team to develop ideas on how to grow, how to give back, and where to go next. We want to keep this stuff under wraps for now - but it's coming and soon! We promise. It's been hard to find balance and keep ourselves connected and involved with everyone out there and you know, keep our heads above water, but we're sure trying. We hope this helps. 

- We know we want to keep living tiny and if we can, traveling at least part of the year. We're not really sure how that's going to happen yet! We're booked for the remainder of this year and have a looooong wait list for the subsequent years, and we're in full planning mode all the time. While riveting, we're thinking about it. While driving to visit family, we're talking about it. Over dinner, before bed, over coffee. Every single spare minute is spent discussing how to expand and grow and be better and offer more. 

Mostly, we want to say thank you. Thank you to the people who believe in us, who support us, who care deeply and genuinely for us. To our families, who understand that we're building something and that it takes more time than any of us would like. To our friends (you know who you are!), who bluntly told us we needed to do this, that we were too talented to work for someone else the rest of our lives and to quit wasting time doing so. To our clients, who are trusting us to build and design for them. To all of you out there who send encouraging messages and continue to follow along - thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 

Here's to a beautiful, challenging, crazy, wonderful first year under our belts, and to year two beginning! 

Positive | Negative

I've spent a total of eighteen months living in an Airstream, and it can be frustrating to explain to others looking from the outside in that it's not always as beautiful as it appears on Instagram.  I'm going to let you all in on a secret...it looks pristine (at least in this family's Airstream, though I'd bet in many others') about 3% of the 168 hours that make up a week (wait, that's like 5 hours, that might be an exaggeration) and it happens mainly right before we have guests and I'm embarrassed at the state of our home. 

So, I've decided to create a little series here where I give one positive and one negative about living in an Airstream, because no matter whose image you saw on Instagram and what they call home, if it looks perfect - there's generally a bunch of shit just out of frame. The grass is generally greener, and Instagram perpetuates that myth like nothing else ever has. Yet there are really lovely and wonderful things about living tiny and living mobile. I don't believe they always outweigh the difficulty, at least for me, but I see living this way as a willing sacrifice in order to have the things I really do want out of life: less debt, more time as a family, time to create, time to build a business, et cetera. 

Positive

It takes about an hour (or two, depending on how long it's been since the last one) to do a deep clean. I'm talking scrubbing the baseboards and the smudges on all the walls and cabinetry, bleaching the grout in the bathroom, etc. Just picking up stuff takes about 5-15 minutes, depending on how messy it is. Dishes take the same amount of time, sorry to burst the illusion that it all gets faster because it's a tiny space. 

Negative

It takes about five minutes for it to be a full blown disaster zone, which worsens throughout the day. And I'm not just talking stuff, I'm talking dirt and leaves and twigs and bugs and dirty dishes with food clung to them. It reminds me of Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout's house - and we all know how gross that was. That deep clean? It has to happen every single day. 

Why I Don't Look at Other Airstreams...

...for design inspiration. 

"Where did you get _________?!" 

This is, hands down, the most asked question on our Instagram feed. I'd dare to say it's the most asked question on Instagram. I myself have asked in the past about a pillow or pair of shoes...until I realized why a lot of people wouldn't respond: they'd put in the work to find the unique item they were wearing or placing in their home, were proud to share it, but didn't want to give the source. For just a moment...they wanted that hard-sought after item to be theirs before it inevitably was copied and took off on the trend train. 

We recently hired our first intern here at The Modern Caravan, and it was really interesting to hear what her professors at Savannah College of Art and Design, where she is majoring in interior design, say and teach about designing a space. The students are required to give images used for their research to the professors, like citing sources in a bibliography, keeping the aspiring designers accountable, which will in turn lead them to designing with integrity. Students are taught that entire spaces cannot be copied, even with subtle changes to tone or material: true designers come up with entirely unique, honest spaces. Perhaps a table from this image, or a rug similar to one in another image, but the spaces have to be true.

The program is tough and fair and students who can't be original are undoubtedly going to struggle to stay in the highly competitive world of design, just as it was when I attended school for interior design all those years ago (but didn't finish - I was terrified and changed my major at the end of my freshman year to English because it felt safer - ha!). The standout students were always those who came up with fresh, original ideas. Lauded and praised for true creativity and artistry, they were the ones to succeed and in my program, get through the round of cuts that took place after sophomore year.

We hear these stories all the time - it's one of the reasons I don't buy decor at big box stores or even places such as Urban Outfitters. On a regular basis, the work is a rip off of a rip off of a rip off. There's nothing real about it, and someone, somewhere - worked hard, was a true artist, put their work out into the world to share it (because that's a reason to make art), and was met with a bunch of assholes who said..."but I can do that just as good as him! I'll do it, and I'll be just as successful/famous/well-known/lauded and praised for my design/art/craft!"

But Kate! you say. It is your own fault for sharing your work. Keep it to yourself and no one will rip you off. OR, it's petty to worry about such things. It'll continue happening, especially when you're good. These have been said, amongst others, until I sit with other artists, those of us who do the true work, those of us who reflect inward to create outwardly. There is a difference between an artist and someone who imitates, and that is simple: there is creativity and honesty or there is a lack of faith in one's own ability to create and a shallow value (ex. fame). 

Recently, I went through and unfollowed many Airstream renovation accounts as a measure to keep me in check. I don't even want to inadvertently copy someone else's design and work, because that's possible too...something we once saw can represent itself in our subconscious, manifesting itself in such a way that we truly believe we are the creator of a work of art. This is why we hear similar chord progressions in songs, so similar you can't tell which song you're listening to at first, at least not until the lyrics begin. 

Instead, when I prepare to create, I draw from many places of inspiration. Most are vague, some are tactile, some concrete. I think about places I've been - perhaps the way the sun dips below a line of gently etched mountains and the sky and desert ground becomes ethereal and creamy. What can I pull from this? A feeling, certainly. How did the wind make me feel, how did it touch my skin? Where was I in my life? What can be taken of that and wrapped gently into a set of tones for a space? 

I think on touch: how will the floor feel under bare and naked feet? What will the sound of it be? Will it have that subtle and soft tcttchh, tchttchh I love so much? Will it be smooth, or will it be subtle in variation, tiny raises that create that sort of sound and provide subtle dimension visually? What will the countertop feel like under my hand, and what will the lambswool be like against my cheek as I nap on the sofa on a Sunday afternoon? 

And then I think about how people will behave in the space, whether it be me and my family or our clients. I observe the motions I can, such as how they move and walk. What is their kitchen dance? What do they do for work? I ask questions: where do you spend the most of your time? Do you enjoy readying for the day in the bathroom or the bedroom? I think about things that I cannot observe but are the things of life many people would rather not voice: what's a comfortable roominess when sick on a toilet? Will you hit your head during sex? When a couple is fighting, is there a place to go? For those of us with children, privacy to keep our most important relationship nurtured, both physically and emotionally? 

It is surprisingly, to most, less about the elements. They are largely shaped by nature, strongly influenced by the persons the design is for. What do they wear? How do they speak? Are they soft, or do they have an edge? What are they drawn to? What are their favorite places, books, or films? Where are they from, and where are they going?