In an earlier post, I wrote about having lost the desire to nest in the rental I which am currently living. I keep it livable but I haven't wanted to decorate or improve it. Chalk it up to having been deracinated almost 3 years ago...
But, it is never too late. I have been feeling flickers of desire for things- creature comforts, the self-expression of decorating, the semiotics of a home. I have been experiencing visions, day-dreams, reveries of a home for me. I can see it in my heart's and mind's eye- the colors, materials and surfaces in my kitchen-to-be; the fabrics and textures and lighting of my future bedroom. I can picture myself painting the walls- a beautiful wax-bean yellow/green, installing the cork tiles on the floors, hanging the old light fixture rescued from dust and grime and restored without losing its begruntled charm. I can see my furniture placed just so along with pieces added as they come. I can see the home evolving in its style that I have come to call "Mahoning," meaning to me: rust-belt/rural. Midwest Wabi-Sabi.
Have I suddenly come into the money to accomplish this vision- no, not by a long-shot. But to me this awakening of desire is a miracle. I have started collecting information on materials, processes, making sketches. I will start keeping them in a folder and I will create an icon for this vision and hang it on my vision-tree in the place of the little book icon I had made to represent my vision of my Word Project book- a vision that has miraculously been accomplished.
It must be an intimation of Spring...
Have I spoken about the bowl? I believe I have- ah yes, when I was boasting about not having accumulated much... a bit of braggadoccio I have had to swallow raw and without any salt.
The bowl came to mind as I was clearing the attic in preparation for the sale of household goods this weekend. I found little to keep, much to let go of and even more to think about.
Here is what I have learned about myself-
- I apparently love, love, love Christmas with all the trimmings. I have boxes and boxes and boxes of ornaments and odd bits picked up at post-season sales and yard sales. Thinking about it, yes, I do love Christmas, and I miss the celebrations of my childhood. I had long-realized I wanted- no ached- to have this house be the place my whole family gathered for the holidays; why else would a single person need a house with three bedrooms? But, it never happened- what remains of my family lives almost 500 miles away, they have jobs and families of their own. (More about the Christmas thing below.)
- I also crave lots of little bitty bits of light judging by the large number of skeins of Christmas lights and boxes and boxes of candles I had. (For those of you too young to remember, Christmas lights were once large, clunky and only put up at Christmas time unless one lived in a cantina somewhere very far south of Poland, Ohio and sported hoop earrings.) I have always loved the idea of a kitchen strewn with small white lights, a porch illuminated by flickering candles. These fantasies also include lots of friends eating the wonderful food presented in the large bowls... it all ties together in one big semiotic orgy. Ask me to tell you about Stockholm in the late autumn sometime...
- I have started many schemes and not finished them: funky wreathes smothered with the Christmas ornaments I had gathered; silk-screened prints- made the frames and the separated images; small pieces of furniture painted a la the Omega Workshop. All of these started but then abandoned, some further down the road than others.
- Blank books with the intention to write in them everyday; this category includes date books and other devices to make me organized. I see now I should just be organized instead of looking for magical devices that I hope will effortlessly make me so. ( I was in Barnes & Nobles this afternoon and saw some- yes, blank books- and was this close to buying one. I then remembered the stack of blank books I have to cart to the dump tomorrow and, casting a wistful backward glance, walked on.)
So, this is the semiotic stew-pot I am living in. I am glad to see now the casting in 3 dimensions the realm of my desires- I want family; I want warmth and conviviality; I want dancing, soft light; I want to be connected to others; I want abundance but not burden. As of today, I still don't have a place to live after the 21st of the month... but, these qualities are largely interior, they are not dependent upon place. My mental attic is getting cleared out in preparation for .... what?
(Did I mention I found a place I would love to live in but...)
I am once again in the process of tidying my studio. I tend to keep my work bench clear, putting away the many jars of paint, the piles of tools, the stacked containers of buttons and other findings, on a regular basis. I also sweep the floor regularly. But around the edges, framed works are stacking up, there are some teetering piles of junk mail waiting to go to the dump, and miscellaneous items have gathered in rather frightening number on most of the seldom-used horizontal surfaces. Time to clear out a bit.
It is mostly a matter of stowing the framed pieces in an orderly manner, sorting the misc. items- making some choices about keeping, tossing or donating- and then the payoff: making a great purging dump run. I also see that I need to tidy my files- not as satisfying as the results are not immediately visible but it is going to be dreary weather for a few days and that is good weather for such an activity.
I must confess that I am not a tidy person by nature. When I was younger, I was rather a slob. I love the term the British use for such a female: slut; but it has such a definitely sexual connotation in the US that I cannot use it... and I hope I have mended my sloppy ways enough to not have to. It has been an uphill climb.
One big factor in my reformation has been the many reality-tv programs featuring truly frightening slobs and their pigstyes. How sad that people have gotten so overwhelmed by stuff that they will suffer the humiliation of having their lives dissected on TV- okay its cable but still!- just to have help dealing with the mess. And then they have to agree to let a third-rate interior designer do-over their place once the junk is gone. But perhaps as they say, "a kick is as good as a kiss" to someone in this much distress.
As for bringing in more stuff to clutter up the home or studio- I had an epiphany several years ago. I was at a flea market and I saw a beautiful stoneware bowl. I could almost hear the music swelling in the background- "Oh, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found you...." My reaction was so overwhelming- and so out of proportion to the item- that it made me pause. I took a moment to analyse my emotions and found an image in my mind of a table laden with bountiful, delicious, beautiful food. The stoneware bowl itself was the centerpiece, luscious food spilling over the rim. Many candles shed a golden light. Around the table were many friends, all of them there to share the bounty of my life and to bestow upon me the bounty of their love and esteem.
Wow! Quite a semiotic burden for one bowl, large though it was.
Then came the epiphany: I could have friends over and serve them delicious food with the bowls and plates and platters I already had. That what I really wanted was the friendship and the love and that no piece of craftily modeled and glazed clay was going to provide that. That realization has put a real crimp in my yard-saling and flea-marketting but there you are. Better that than to end up like the Collyer brothers or on some reality-tv humiliation fest.
So, time for a good spring cleaning. I will meditate on and be grateful for the bounty in my life, the gifts I have been graced with, and my friends while I tidy, dust and organize.
