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Finding love

Buying a new house means a lot of blank walls suddenly open themselves up to new possibilities.

But, that all has to wait until the fundamental stuff has been done. Things like putting saucepans and crockery in kitchen cupboards, toothpaste and soaps in the bathroom, hanging clothes in wardrobes, placing books on book shelves (particularly when my collection of books includes general non fiction, fiction, cookery books, gardening books, art books, travel books, and of course an extensive collection of erotic books!).

As well as filling cupboards and draws, I’ve had to go out and buy a lot of cupboards and draws!  So that in itself takes time. Infact Ikea rang me this week to see what the problem was, their shares had suddenly slumped because I hadn’t paid them a visit (and when I say “pay them a visit”, I don’t think I’ve managed to made any of my visits last less then four hours!).

So, it all takes time.

And in the background are phone calls to the phone company (don’t get me started on that one! Another soap opera in the making!), the service providers for electricity, gas, water, insurance, council tax, etc etc.

And of course, the walls in the rooms of the house remain blank whilst this is going on.

That’s ok, I don’t mind.

But, its odd for me too. Because I’m used to pictures being on walls. 

So, now that all the other stuff has been done, I can do the job that is so natural to me.
Placing pictures.

I’m fortuante, in that the new house doesn’t need decorating. And I LIKE decorating. I know most people don’t. But I do!

All the walls are a pretty, pale, welcoming cream. Innocuous pale cream. Pale, warm, invitingly open to being dressed in pictures.
My pictures.

I’ve looked at those walls for the last five weeks. Blank walls.

But last night, I put some pictures up.

And  I could see the whole importance of pictures. Because, when you look at blank walls, you see ….nothing. But, when you look at a picture hanging on the wall, you look INTO it – into the depths of it, and get lost within the image. And it doesn’t matter if the image is of a still life, animals, of a landscape, of a person or people, whether it’s erotic or not, you put yourself within that frame, and something within that frame should connect with you. You should feeeeel something of the image, and it should have an emotion within it that makes you feeeeeel good. It might be because it’s of someone you love, an animal you love, or a place you love, or a view you love, or an erotic image that gives you fantasies you love, or a surreal selection of images that puts a lot of things together that you love, or camouflage art that hides something that you love, or something humourous that you love, or just the colours you love, but one way or another, it should make you very happy.

That’s what art should do.
And that’s what YOUR collection of art should do.

So this morning, when I awoke, and looked at the couple of pictures I had hung in the bedroom last night, I smiled. They are very suited to the bedroom. Well, certainly, my bedroom. They are subtle in their eroticness and they make me very happy.