Thursday, 19 June 2008


The house is in a state of flux. A very lengthy state of flux, having started approximately two years ago and showing no signs of unfluxing.

We never intended to have the front bedroom as our own, preferring the attic room with its views to Dundry one way and the Suspension Bridge the other way, but when I was pregnant and huge and needing the loo a lot in the night those steep steps seemed a bad idea. And now with Piglet in the back bedroom, sleeping so far from him just feels very wrong. So there we are, in a ghastly room with anaglypta on the ceiling, walls that are crying out for crisp, new plaster, and the worst carpet in the world.

Yesterday I decided enough was enough - although the state of the room is a temporary state, what does temporary mean? How long are we going to put up with a bedroom that isn't the one we want? The answer to that is too long. I know us and what we're like, and time goes by and we still don't have skirting boards, physically or metaphorically. So I did something about it and introduced my own version of temporary.

The way I approached it was the way I would approach it at work: a temporary exhibition, before we find funding for the permanent collection. I selected lots of lovely objects gathering dust in our archives, and set about curating a new wall of work. I put up temporary fixtures - the shelf as a mantlepiece, the Eames Hang-It-All as a jewellery rack - as well as pictures that have been propped up against walls for too long. The chimney breast is now my heart hearth, beating with long-lost treasures from the past 14 and a half years.
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