The Q + A Series

A few weeks ago, right before we took a short vacation to the coast, we posted to Instagram and asked what you all want to know more about...and we said we'd answer in our Stories. Nearly eighty questions later, and we realized that posting them to our Stories would mean that many of you might miss the responses, and several of the questions asked required more in-depth answers than a quick video would allow. So instead, we've been sorting through the questions over the past few weeks, grouping like-questions together, and writing out our responses so they can live right here on the blog always, and for anyone to sort through at anytime, with ease. 

We'll start our new Q + A series off right here, and answer a few in this post. Outside of parallel questions, we are responding in chronological order. Sit tight if you asked your question later in the comment thread! We're working through them all as quickly as we can. Maintaining the blog regularly is tough with our renovation schedules (we're still renovating two, ours and the client's, simultaneously), but we're working to produce more content for you all while still finding balance between work and family/life. 

The posts can be accessed easily by clicking the Q + A Series link in the sidebar, and if you want to ask a question to be featured in the series, please submit your question via our contact form, right here, with 'Q + A Series' in the subject line so we don't miss it. 

Q. The art pieces you choose are always perfection! Where do you source them, or do your clients just have impeccable taste and have already acquired them over the years?!

A. We’ve only had one client project thus far where I was actually able to style using the clients’ art pieces (Isla), and it was really fun to go through their collection and pull out pieces that would look lovely with the finished space. Otherwise, any other artwork that you might have seen is in our own spaces, and all of that Kate has sourced from antiquing and thrifting over the years, or it’s art we’ve created ourselves. The key to seeking out these pieces is to keep your eyes peeled. We have quite the collection of one-of-a-kind large-scale pieces in storage, but brought along several small-scale favorites. 

Q. Where do you typically park when you’re staying in one place for more than a couple days?

A. This is really dependent on where we are and what we’re needing to do. Currently, we are parked on a farm in Arizona for our current client renovation. It's far from idyllic, but it allows us to homeschool and not seek out childcare while working full-time on site. 

When traveling freely, which we don’t get to do very often because of our work, we prefer boondocking (dry camping in remote locations). BLM land is our preference - seeing the stars, letting our dogs run freely, 360-degree views, and being all alone and feeling small - there’s no better feeling.

Sometimes we like to be close to friends and family in cities, and parking becomes more of an issue. Sometimes we’ll driveway park if we can. A good example of tough parking is in Southern California: in Dana Point, we’ll head down to the beach during the day and leave at night to go sleep in a parking lot, just to be right on the water and have the comfort of home with us, and it’s much cheaper than the adjacent campground where beach view sites are super pricey. 

We rarely stay in RV parks, though they are nice from time to time. Last summer, when traveling with some friends, we all wanted to run our AC and get in a pool and be able to catch up on work comfortably and do laundry. We rented side-by-side sites for a week in an RV park outside of San Diego and were able to get through the 107-degree heat wave just fine. 

Q. How do you manage water and dumping tanks when parked for a renovation?

A. Our contract requires our clients to provide water and electric hookups, and we use a portable rolling tank to remove our grey water from the site. We have a Nature’s Head Composting Toilet and do not need a black tank. 

The Isla Project

Where do I even begin?

It's Monday morning, and we're sitting in Arizona. Out the window of our Airstream is our extended awning, a field of wheat that will eventually become Italian pasta (go figure!), and a beautiful mountain range. The dirt here is red and soft, which we decided was great, as our trailer wheels leveled themselves out and we didn't even have to pull out the leveling blocks. The scenery isn't as idyllic as one would hope, but we are tucked away from where we'll be working, and that's a definite bonus. 

We wrapped up work on Isla around lunchtime Friday, and hurried to take last minute showers, dump clean laundry onto the bed, and pack up the truck with our tools before hitting the road. The goodbye was quick, and we were ready to go, but it was hard to say goodbye to Chris and Paige. They became like family in a way, living on their property and spending so much time with them. Paige and I would sneak in lunches at cute places in Austin when we went in to get supplies, we all prepared dinners together, rang in the New Year with fireworks and champagne, and got to know one another on a deeper level. They saw how we live and breathe our work, and how challenging it can be for us at times, and offered comfort and childcare and community. 

Isla, in and of itself, was an extremely trying project in many ways. Our initial goal was to do the renovation in four months, which seemed doable. Our first client project was wrapped within three months while we both still worked: Ellen was teaching elementary art full-time and I was doing freelance design and photography. However, the difference was that the chassis, subfloor, and tanks were already new and complete, done by another company before our clients brought us the project. 

If you read our last post, you know that we made the rookie mistake of overextending ourselves. Our projects need to be spaced out, and we need to allot more time so we can have a life outside of renovation. Working on Isla allowed us to come to this realization fully, and like all projects we do, there is a learning curve. So much of what is seen on social media is not an accurate representation of the work. Yes, we work fast...but we also don't have a life outside of work in our current time frame. Yes...it looks seamless and easy when it's all complete, but what you can't see is the effort, the frustration, the bruises, blood, and tears. 

Isla was the toughest project we've ever taken on. The time frame would have likely worked out better if the Airstream itself hadn't been in such rough shape. The exterior skin was pitted, for starters, but we also had to undertake a full restoration on five vista view windows and three flat fixed windows, which took two and a half weeks we hadn't anticipated or calculated for. We outsourced a few things this time around (for the first time ever!), like countertops and custom cushions, and the countertops were installed two weeks late, which pushed us back even further. We dealt with bad weather (ice! snow! eight degrees!), illness, and general overwhelm. The day we were supposed to finish the project, Ellen was in Wisconsin for a family funeral. We gave up our Christmas plans and powered through the days working instead, thinking we’d get caught up. Our momentum took a beating time and again, and our patience and strength was tested - hard. 

In those final days, however, as we oiled cabinetry and grouted tile, cleaned the interior, installed those blush velvet cushions on the sectional, styled, and photographed the space…the months of work and stress and pain didn’t melt away, but they, like always…began to make sense. The walnut cabinetry and trim, the gorgeous tile from Fireclay, the countertops…all the elements that make Isla a beautiful home, began to shine. Our strengths as designer and builder, when working together, make magic that we can feel and see. Standing in the finished space, I took the time to   be still with each and every aspect that we worked so hard to craft and dream up. I knew, without a doubt, that the space I designed was completely unique and that it fit our clients perfectly.

Though they named their Airstream 'Isla', we affectionately referred to it as the ‘Paige Project’. Paige was so involved, helpful, and supportive throughout the entire process: she wanted to be a part of the build. She happily wielded a polisher, paintbrush, and drill…and was always ready to run to Lowe’s or order supplies. She’d slip beers into our hands after long days, and as we hit the final stretch, insisted we take a night off and rest before the crazy, providing a fancy night for Adelaide at their house, complete with homemade pizza, cookie baking, art projects, and a movie. 

More than anything, we felt taken care of by Paige. She genuinely cared for our well-being, and wanted us to feel at home. Having met her, to know her, is a true gift and we will carry her with us always. To have built her home…her beautiful home…was just as much a gift to us. 

Regarding the design, this particular project was so incredibly seamless…each tone, texture, and fixture compliments each and every other. From the gorgeous tiles generously provided by Fireclay Tile, champagne brass faucets and shower hardware, white star shower tile,  herringbone floors from Kaindl, the custom walnut cabinetry/trim/wardrobe crafted in house, Corian countertops with integrated custom sinks that look like marble but are simply solid surface, the butterscotch sconces from Schoolhouse, and last but not least, the blush velvet cushions crafted by Paige’s talented, kind, and fun sister, Claire…it’s nearly impossible to pick just one element. They each work together to create an incredible space that we are so proud of.

If we had to pick? We’d say the entire living area, but especially the custom sectional and those Robert Allen blush velvet cushions. The living room space is definitely different from what we’ve done in the past, and it made sense for the clients’ lifestyle. They plan to eat at the coffee table, perched at the counter on stools, or outside. They didn’t need additional sleeping space, and having a real living room and a big kitchen was the perfect fit for them.

The layout really does make it feel more like a house, with a private bedroom, complete with en suite bathroom and full wardrobe with his and hers drawers and hanging space. Pocket doors divide the bedroom/kitchen and the bathroom also has a pocket door. 

I could easily write a novel (pretty much already have), about how much we’ve learned throughout this process and how much we love this project, despite how tough it was to build…but we’ll just let the pictures speak for themselves now. We love you, Chris, Paige, pups, and Isla, and we are wishing you an amazing first year calling Isla and the road home. 

To view the complete gallery, click right here.

It's More Than Just An Airstream

Did you know that we live in an Airstream too? 

We've lived in three Airstreams on and off for the last few years. We began renovating our first Airstream, Louise, in May 2014, and began renovating our second Airstream, June, a year and nine months later. Currently, we call a barely finished 1994 Airstream Classic (The Hawk Project), home. It's a disaster zone - we thought we'd have time to work on it during our evenings and weekends off, but when push comes to shove, there's far too much going on with our client renovation. The long hours we pull for the business means there's very little time outside of work, and when there is, we're parenting, cooking dinner in a makeshift kitchen comprised of a camp stove, a couple boards we nailed together in 15 minutes one night after work with a tiny bathroom sink our client decided she didn't want, and wrapping up computer work for the day. Our water comes from a jug with a spout and drains to a mixing bowl. It works, but not having running water when our jobs are physical labor isn't the greatest. 

The first morning we woke up in our 1957 Airstream, Louise. | May 30, 2015.

We're not complaining, and we are making the best of it. We made the decision to sell our last Airstream and buy a bigger space. Why? Our family is growing (no, we're not pregnant - can you imagine?), and our business is growing. Our daughter isn't tiny anymore, and we have two chocolate labs now (not just one!). We needed some space to have an office...which is really just going to be a desk and a laptop, but either way, an off limits space separate from where our daughter plays and leaves cups of water. We needed a way to wash and dry clothing that wasn't reliant on either our clients' providing use of their machines or a laundromat...because we don't have time. 

We don't have time...we don't have time...we don't have time...it's said almost daily in this household. We say it to friends who hoped to spend more time with us while we were here in Austin, we say it to family who wants us to visit, we say it to each other, we say it to our kid. We don't have time to (fill in the blank). 

Us with June, our second Airstream, the day we sold her. Photograph taken by Jamie & Lauren Eichar, who bought June and call her home.

Seemingly, The Modern Caravan grew out of a behind-the-scenes Instagram account where we chronicled our Airstream renovations (pre Snapchat or IG Stories days!). Initially, our travel thoughts were shared on Birch & Pine, a blog and Instagram account about our journey to downsizing, selling our home, and hitting the road for a year as a family, which Kate has taken over and is now a personal outlet for her writing and photography. The reason for two accounts was simple at the time: we wanted to be able to connect with other renovators to ask questions and receive advice. It was utilitarian, pragmatic. As the years wore on and we started our second Airstream renovation, the community of Airstream/RV/caravan renovators sharing on Instagram had grown considerably, but we kept the account images about the same quality. No pressure, no stress, no fuss. We showed the real side of Airstream renovation, muddy backs from that April when it didn't stop raining for weeks, the rusted chassis in the once-rear bathroom that literally fell off when we exposed it. 

When we decided to start the business, we suddenly felt like that little behind-the-scenes account had to stack up. We're told all the time that consistent quality images, even lighting, and tones matter for growing your account (and thus your business). When looking at something becoming your livelihood (we both quit our jobs last May after being in business for five months), you do everything you can to ensure folks will see your work. Kate started to pay mind to everything: what kind of images did best? What did our audience want to see? Did they enjoy the rusty chassis? No, not so much. Did they love a good flat lay with design elements, or full-length shots of a finished Airstream? Heck yes. Did they want us to talk about our real life? Not as much anymore. The demand was for Airstream images only. 

So much has changed over the last year, and though we were so excited to start this business, what we didn't expect was that the one thing that would become lost in the shuffle...was us. 

It might look glamorous, but that's an air mattress under there and there's no insulation or skins up top. This is our current Airstream home, under construction. December 2017.

The Modern Caravan grew out of not just an account a year ago, but a decision to change our lives one day four years ago. In the six months prior to that day, we'd been having nightly conversations about how we wanted to change our lives...and most importantly, why we wanted to. If you've been following along for awhile, you might know the story: we were both drained from our jobs, the commute, the town we lived in, the never-ending work on our large house and larger yard. It's a pretty typical story for most travelers...we wanted more out of life than what we were experiencing. The checklist left us feeling broken. We were promised more out of life as kids...and then arriving at adulthood, we realized that we got everything we were promised. We had the pretty house (no picket fence, but we did live on Pickett Avenue) and two cars and the jobs...and it wasn't at all what we wanted for ourselves. So one morning, after falling down an internet rabbit hole, Kate stumbled upon film photographs by the very talented Michael Newsted, who was touring with his band. Seeing a child about our daughter's age on the tour bus, she knew we had our answer. 

What if we sold everything, bought a bus, and traveled? 

We never really expected any of what would follow. You get this crazy idea (that at the time wasn't popular or trending), and your friends and family think you're nuts. Our parents didn't understand it. Sometimes we didn't, but we knew it was right beyond a shadow of a doubt. From day one, we started planning and purging. We listed our house within a few months, and spent late nights where we had only talked about how to change our lives making the change happen. One April day, we began sharing our journey on Instagram, which we had both only used privately until then. We had fifty followers for a long time, mostly just curious friends. No one was interested...we were just crazy, and that was okay. Through Instagram, we realized that there were other full-time traveling families.

It was quite a journey to take the journey: we worked harder than we ever had. Ellen continued to teach art in a town 32 miles away, and Kate took a job as a nanny and continued her work as a freelance photographer. We sold and donated 95% of our belongings, two cars, and our house sold after eleven months on the market, despite multiple showings a week (keeping a house clean while downsizing is insane!). We finished renovating our house and renovated a 1957 Airstream. The journey to the journey was just as much a part of it, but the day we pulled away from the curb with everything we owned following dutifully behind us in Louise, it was absolutely surreal. We'd done it. We'd made it. We shared every step of the journey...the good and the bad and the tough and the beautiful. 

We were on the road for seven months before we had to stop traveling earlier than we'd hoped, and found ourselves in the throes of dealing with custody issues. We moved back to Indiana, very much against our will, and in the year and a half that followed, we worked our asses off again to get back on the road, with no guarantee that we could. We built out June...and worked to develop a trusting relationship with our daughter's birth father. And then one year ago, we started The Modern Caravan. 

You might be wondering where all of this is going...why we're sharing personal details on a business blog, but that's the very issue. The Modern Caravan, over the last year, has been completely and totally catered to everyone else but us. Perhaps that's what we should do. We've attempted to be competitive and business-savvy when we are so not, and tried to find the balance between sharing and not (because we do work hard to perfect our craft and source for our clients). We've thought about the content others would rather see. It's no longer about how we live, or where this journey began, or travel, or why we started doing any of this at all. We had all these grand plans of how to make The Modern Caravan perfect and flawless from the outside, but what about the behind-the-scenes? What about the people who started the business and work their fingers to the bone to keep it going? This bred disconnect between us and other travelers and renovators: we're expected to have it all together and present the perfection, the inspiration. Yet we don't want to be seen as the "pros", we want to be part of the community, not separate from the community. We were once, and now we've become separated by a thin veil of curation and carefully crafted, numbers-reaching content. That's not who we are! We are you - renovators, travelers, people who wanted more out of life and made it happen.

We have constructed a facade of perfection because that's what we're "supposed" to do. It goes beyond Instagram or a blog. We keep smiling and saying that we're fine: that we love what we do so much that it doesn't matter that we're not traveling, we just go from place to place for work. It doesn't matter that we don't have time to cook healthy meals or spend time together as a family, go on dates, work out, or build out our own home. Somewhere along the way, we got so wrapped up in giving the people what they want that we no longer do anything for ourselves, including sharing about the real aspects of our lives. We haven't shared about the renovation of our own Airstream home the way we once did, because we're now expected to turn around Airstream renovations in record-fast speed to keep up with our competition and keep the people happy and inspired in Insta-land...and our home is at a standstill and has been for the last month, we're embarrassed...but why? We're allowing external pressure to dictate what we share. 

After the last several months, we've come to realize that at some point, we should matter. Our health, our family, our marriage, and our desire to (actually) travel should matter. We should feel that we can share our real life. This business was born out of passion for the work, but more importantly, one another and what we wanted out of life. It is nothing without it. It's more than just an Airstream, or perfectly curated content or impeccable interiors, though those things are certainly part of it and we do love a beautiful interior just as much as the next person. We matter, and the reasons for starting this work came from a place of honesty and reflection. We are not just Airstream renovators, we live in one. We're not just Airstream renovators, we are travelers. We are mothers. Wives. People. 

Moving forward, we are changing the way things are done. Starting this fall, after our next two renovations, we are going to be taking a break from renovating, which we've been doing almost continuously (outside of our time living on the road) for the last four years. We plan to travel for the entirety of 2019, reflect, and refocus. In the meantime, we will still share the client renovations that we work so tirelessly on, but we also want to share about our life: the good, the bad, and the in-between. We're going to stop saying we don't have time...and start really living...and just like the journey to the journey (which is really just life), we're bringing you along for the ride. 

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P.S. We'd love to hear from you all about anything that you wish we did talk about more outside of renovation and design. Please let us know!