In a rented flat the question always facing you is how much damage can you reasonably do.
The problem, of course, is pictures.
We have been given carte blanche to drill into the walls to insert hooks to place paintings in the flat as long as we ‘make good’ (or fill in the holes) before we leave. The walls are painted a particularly virulent pastel yellow (yes, I know that is an oxymoron) rather than the more subtle and insipid British institutional choice of Magnolia. The yellow is also ageing gracefully and therefore will be impossible to match. If we have to rely on my Pollyfiller skills then the filled hole will look more obvious after my DIY skills have been exerted than when it was a gaping void.
So we do nothing; intimidated by the immensity of violating walls which look particularly smooth and virgin. While this Hamlet-like irresolution is limited the growth of our art gallery all our favourite paintings lie mouldering in what are actually clean, secure and dry conditions in my storage area in Bluespace.
It would appear that one real casualty of the move from Cardiff to Castelldefels is the little seascape by Ceri which we both liked very much. I still have faith that it is tucked away behind the wall of boxes which contain the majority of my books.
Another partial casualty was the working charcoal sketch by Ceri, part of which was developed into a rather sinister painting of stark broken tree trunks. It was a partial casualty because, luckily, the only damage to the picture was that the glass in the frame was broken. By great good luck the broken glass did not cut or tear the paper and so yesterday I was able to take it to be reframed. I hope that this framing will be more appropriate than the Habitat purchased slip frame that broke! It’s certainly going to cost more!
Having that charcoal back ready to be displayed makes me think of the large charcoal which used to be at the bottom of the stairs in Kennerleigh Road. In the flat there is not obvious space for this picture and I miss it. The charcoal depicts a gap in some sea rocks and, where it was placed you could almost walk into it: it seemed like a sort of portal to the actual landscape from the house!
Paintings like books are friends and they need to be available. I sometimes envisage having a sort of subterranean hideaway with all my books immaculately ranged on many shelves with the bookcases interspersed with all my paintings.
The problem, of course, is pictures.
We have been given carte blanche to drill into the walls to insert hooks to place paintings in the flat as long as we ‘make good’ (or fill in the holes) before we leave. The walls are painted a particularly virulent pastel yellow (yes, I know that is an oxymoron) rather than the more subtle and insipid British institutional choice of Magnolia. The yellow is also ageing gracefully and therefore will be impossible to match. If we have to rely on my Pollyfiller skills then the filled hole will look more obvious after my DIY skills have been exerted than when it was a gaping void.
So we do nothing; intimidated by the immensity of violating walls which look particularly smooth and virgin. While this Hamlet-like irresolution is limited the growth of our art gallery all our favourite paintings lie mouldering in what are actually clean, secure and dry conditions in my storage area in Bluespace.
It would appear that one real casualty of the move from Cardiff to Castelldefels is the little seascape by Ceri which we both liked very much. I still have faith that it is tucked away behind the wall of boxes which contain the majority of my books.
Another partial casualty was the working charcoal sketch by Ceri, part of which was developed into a rather sinister painting of stark broken tree trunks. It was a partial casualty because, luckily, the only damage to the picture was that the glass in the frame was broken. By great good luck the broken glass did not cut or tear the paper and so yesterday I was able to take it to be reframed. I hope that this framing will be more appropriate than the Habitat purchased slip frame that broke! It’s certainly going to cost more!
Having that charcoal back ready to be displayed makes me think of the large charcoal which used to be at the bottom of the stairs in Kennerleigh Road. In the flat there is not obvious space for this picture and I miss it. The charcoal depicts a gap in some sea rocks and, where it was placed you could almost walk into it: it seemed like a sort of portal to the actual landscape from the house!
Paintings like books are friends and they need to be available. I sometimes envisage having a sort of subterranean hideaway with all my books immaculately ranged on many shelves with the bookcases interspersed with all my paintings.
I also think about that painting by Zoffany showing the Tribuna in the Uffizi with paintings covering the walls making the gallery look like a very expensive jigsaw. Perhaps that is the solution to my paintings problem, though I think the chances of Toni agreeing to the saturating hanging of works of art is roughly on a par with the likelihood of That Woman becoming the Patron of Oxfam; donating her body to science and starting to become a regular on the soup run for London vagrants!
The obvious solution is to knock through to the massive flat next door and create a Long Gallery such as Clarrie had in her Brixton flat!
My dreams continue!
As indeed does the school work: but the things that I plan to do are fun things which involve cutting and pasting. It is sad to relate that some of my happiest times in education where when I was designing a front cover for a booklet or arranging some apposite illustrations to make a page of print look sexier!
Perhaps I’ve been a suppressed Primary School teacher all my life!
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