And Now We Craft

A few months ago, when we were still living in the apartment, I was washing dishes or something one night and for some reason fixated on a space on the wall near the window. I was seized with a quite strange desire – drive, really – to paint that space. Any color or all colors. To render it with stripes or dots or Pollock Drips.

I couldn’t do it, of course, since I was a renter, and really, on a rational level, didn’t actually want to bother with that bit of wall at all, as I was in the process of moving anyway.

It was all about creating, I think. Forming something, making something happen that was visible and concrete but didn’t require me to dig in the same creative spaces my usual work does. To make something happen.

Well, now I’m here and have a canvas of sorts. I’ve never been much of a decorator or crafty, artsy maven – well, not one at all. I did learn to sew in Home Ec in 7th grade, and I’m glad I did – I sewed quite a bit through high school and made several dresses for Baby Katie way back when, but have barely pulled out the machine since then except for costumes and such.

(In 9th grade, had to take Home Ec again, this time in the Catholic high school. All girls were still required to take it. And our first major sewing project after we’d been taught the basics? Sew our own fall uniform skirts. Pleated. That was a brilliant idea.)

(Did I ever tell you about our teacher? I know I did, but it was probably a few blog iterations ago. She was Church of Christ – Tennessee Church of Christ not Yankee/Disciples/Liberal Church of Christ.  She took the Bible literally, so she refused to call the principal “Father” and always referred to him as “Mr.” (not even “Reverend” or “Pastor” or “Brother!), and I’ll never forget when she was discussing a possible visitor: “Mr. Niedergeses might be stopping by our class tomorrow…”   aka “Bishop Niedergeses.” )

I’m one of those people who is fairly indifferent to the space surrounding her – another expression of introversion, I expect. If the paint’s a livable color and I can get the pictures on the wall, we’re good, for the most part.

But this house, at this time, is bringing out what I felt that night in the apartment. Partly, I think, because what was here was just not…livable. The previous owner favored dark purples and browns for her wall colors, and that’s not really happening for me. So there was immediate painting of the living and dining rooms and one bedroom. I painted the bathroom myself a few weeks ago – it was a dark purple (of course), but it was also super-great because it used a crackling effect, so short of stripping and sanding or wallpapering, I was left with painting and painting and painting. It’s a small bathroom (old house = small bathroom + few closets), so it wasn’t really too bad. I still have enough paint left over that I keep the can handy so when some crackling breaks through, there I am with the brush. Probably not what I’m supposed to do, but there you go.

My “projects,” such as they are, are random and totally determined by what strikes me on one of the design-type blogs I frequent (see the links page) or what I spy on Etsy.

So…I’ve done some switchplates. Origami paper + ModPoge + varnish, just to be safe.

Aforementioned bathroom.

My room. Kidding, of course.

You can probably see the single major obstacle to me becoming a world-renowned DIY-er. I’m not a perfectionist. Far from it.  Eh, that’s good enough is my crafting downfall.

But I still like them, and there are more to come!

Then there’s the kitchen, which needs a few things – practical things, which I’m pondering. One of them was a backsplash. I don’t deep fry and I don’t do a lot of frying, period, but that burnt orange paint (I’m thinking it was an attempted Tuscan feel) was starting to look a bit spotty.  So, seized by a weird mania, a dislike of metal backsplashes (which you can buy ready-to-go at Home Depot)  and a reluctance to tile, I went all out.

Before: (it really does have more of a burnished look than that – if it didn’t, I would have added it to the “repaint immediately” file.

After:

(Shield your eyes)

Mexican OilCloth Explosion!

As I said, I don’t cook at uber high temperatures over there so I’m not worried about it melting.

It’s…different.

Well, that was boring. It seems as if there is something else I’ve done – well, I have – oh, bookcases, of course.

This one is big and heavy (seemed to have been in a school) and was white – I picked it up at the Salvation Army thrift store for $35, and set my assistants to work.

So of course, it had to be theirs, if there was any justice:

There’s another rather strange bookcase I picked up at an antique store down the street that was going out of business. I’ve painted it and stuck some decorative bling on it, but I keep fiddling with it, so we’ll save that for another time.

It’s satisfying to make things, to remake, to redo, to recreate.  You can walk into a room, brush your fingers across that shelf or that switchplate and know that at least one thing you set your mind to this week resulted in something solid, even if much of the rest of life seems mighty hard to pin down.

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