Ah! I love my office. And now, after a long absence from writing, I have returned, stronger, faster, more comfortable and more beautiful than ever.
I fired a client for the first time last week. And you know, I am so happy to have gone through the experience. I know myself better, and I learned to say "no". It's an important skill to learn. Period.
So...a little catch-up.
I moved my "office" from my kitchen to a former bedroom, and now instead of hunching in a chair that's too tall over a keyboard that's too short, I have my very comfortable vintage black David Rowland 40/4 office chair (thanks Dad!), so named because you can stack 40 of them into 4 square feet of space, in which to lounge as I lay bare this lifestyle lexicon. Now, I have a balcony to retire to and a verdant back yard to look onto when the inspiration leaves me and I'm a little pile of tropical frustration. Now, I have more art on the walls. Ah!
The two paintings you see above were found at different times in different thrift stores. I bought the elk on the left, along with several other vintage landscape paintings, for a project Aaron and I did for the Stollery Children's Hospital Foundation. I love how it manages to be so kitsch and majestic and Canadiana all at once. I was considering giving it away to a fellow artist who asked to have the landscape paintings once we were finished with them, but it's just so je ne sais quoi for me that I couldn't let it go. Maybe it has something to do with my Dad. He loves elk, and I like hearing him say "Elk". One of those "through leaves" experiences, I guess (see footnote).
When I saw the moose on the right and recognised the matching frame, I was on that thing like kittens to a yarn ball. I was telling Aaron last night, after hanging the two pictures, that the moose reminded me of him and I said something along the lines of "a big, strong animal alone in the Canadian wilderness". (Laugh if you must, but it came out much cuter and more romantic at the time.) It's interesting to me how I'd choose to hang it next to the elk that reminds me of my Dad. My two big, strong animals...
I almost regret we will not be showing pictures of our home until it is done, including the office, as we are hiring a professional photographer with the intention of publishing it in Canadian House and Home, Elle Decor, Style at Home, or some other decorating magazine, and perhaps also a blog like Apartment Therapy or Design Sponge (check out this gorgeous sneak peak). When that happens, I'll let you know. Within a year or two.
In the works right now are a website for ID Bohemia, a show and sale featuring curated art from my art school days and jewelry I've been making, and a wedding in September.
Not too much more to write today, as nearly everything is in transition. I just wanted to say I'm working, and I'm in love with life."
In Easy Living, Terence Conran writes:
Vita Sackville-West, in a talk broadcast on BBC radio in 1950, identified a whole range of insignificant, essentially domestic pleasures that everyone has experienced from tie to time but hardly ever remarks upon. In the family shorthand, which gave the talk its title, these brief moments of satisfaction were collectively termed "through leaves", after the "small but intense pleasure of walking through dry leaves and kicking them up as you go." It was "through leaves" to run a stick along an iron railing or to crunch thin ice; to suddenly remember a word or name you thought you'd forgotten; or to write with the perfect pen nib. So was pulling curtains that ran freely on their rods, sliding out the drawer of a steel filing cabinet which opened "readily and silkily" on ball bearings, cutting pages of a book with a sharp paper cutter, or drawing a cork with a good corkscrew. Drinking when you're thirsty, feeling sand between your toes at the beach, reading in bed – that "perfect moment" that lasts only as long as you can stay awake – sinking into bouncy seats at the cinema...