Within the last few months I have seen some artwork that awes and mesmerizes. Everyday I blog, I feel like it's for the first time. I love that adrenaline of 'what's next' for me and for my fellow bloggers. A few days ago, I began, again, to shoot areas around the house that appealed to me, that say it all best in their mundane state.I love looking around at the life Gera and I have made in our house--we are neat in some areas, careless in others, and extreme (i.e., the Marilyn Monroe he painted on our living room wall posted last year). I couldn't find not a single area in our house that suggested conservatism--maybe our hair products, but nothing else.
When I look back five years ago, at pics (like the Louie Armstrong feature at the beginning of my blog) of mundane areas in my apartment: me, Davis, California, grieving, studying, working, thinking, grieving, everyday alone (by choice), there was a great deal of re-learning going on. I had to teach myself how to live alone. It wasn't easy but it was a journey that has help build on me. Many pics taken then of the mundane spaces express re-learning...and nothing was dusty. Today, five years into a great relationship, I love the chaos nature of our home. Nothing is organized, nothing is taken for granted, nothing suggests loneliness or re-learning. And dust exists.
The pics were taken just as the space is; nothing is arranged or prop'd for effect.
Gera and I no longer argue over the overwhelming sensation of all my books. He's learned just to leave them be. They hover over our bed--the biggest headboard bookshelf one can imagine--and that's what they do. From time to time, I'll want to read a classic or something again, like Michael Chabon's The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay or anything by Gabriel Garcia Marquez or Anton Chekhov and I will pluck it out, dust it off and dive.
Gera's mother in the background always surprises me. I look at her picture often and wonder how in the world did she raise seven children (stair steps) with so very very little. Poor, really (in a financial sense). She was a ship and continues to be, to me.
I'm curious to see what the mundane spaces in our house will look like five more years from now. It evolves as we do. There will be dust though I'm sure. I heard a woman say once "Dull women have immaculate houses." I don't really think that's fair, but for me, it's a nice dicho.