For the first time in my life I have a writing space that is lovely and all mine, even down to the earthy paint color. I feel very blessed to have a space of my own....and also obligated to not suck at writing because, you know, I have a whole fucking ROOM devoted to my practice. Being a student makes it feel so much more "way legit", as George would say.
Where is mama? Mama is in her office. Last door on your right down a long hallway in our big, big house on the edge of town.
The black desk looks pretty but it's spray-painted and the veneer is chipping, and also too small to sit at. One day I will add some wheels or height or better yet find a really sweet antique writing desk with spindle legs and ornate handles. We have so many clean-lined modern pieces in our home, I've enjoyed working in some more traditional pieces when I can. The office chair there is my favorite color: mustard. It is the perfect balance for my romantic desk and the Mad Men lamp.
The wall hanging is a Mexican vintage rug passed on to us by Uncle Payson, and it is one of my favorite textile pieces we own and too precious to put in a common space where we would undoubtedly stain or maim it in some fashion. Again, I adore the clean-lines, and color contrast--the cream and dark linear pattern with a few color splashes. I want to be wrapped in it when I die...semi-serious about that.
My book collection is small because I'm not a very heavy reader. Top-shelf is books from school since I began at Marylhurst a year and a half ago, along with some old journals and the better books from my hardcore domestic days: World of Baby Names has little notes written in margins when we were pregnant with all kids and making lists; The Naturally Clean Home has the recipes I used to make my own products when I cleaned houses for a few years; Raising Poultry in our chicken and duck days; and Vegan Delights only because it has a great recipe for "mock tomato sauce"--a few of us around here are sensitive to nightshades.
Where I actually sit and read and write and edit and click and drink coffee or wine depending on the hour, is the big blue chair. $20 at Deseret Industries, $10 for the matching ottoman. Serious score. The little table was Blake's grandmother's on his dad's side, Hedwig. It is topped with gold-embossed leather. Poetry notebooks, legal pads, The Social Neuroscience of Empathy, Mary Ruefle, and a pen or two live there today.
I have been collecting mother and child (or Mary and Jesus, depending on your enterpretation) art since I was a teen, and one of my favorites hangs above. Yes, that is my one and only belly cast on the wall, when I was round and full with baby George.
Across the way, my view from the chair, are French doors, big trees, mossy roofs, and bounding cats. An original Dali sketch I swooped from B. The typewriter has faded ribbon but the kids love to come in here and type their names or write me weird notes. The file cabinet holds old magazines and assignments. A vintage 60's dress with impressive embroidery hangs along with an old Chinese woven hat. The closet holds many more pieces I've collected since I was young. Sometimes a dress comes out to play but otherwise I just feel the need to be a keeper of days-gone-by fashion (that was my past major, you know.)
An essay from last term, chopped apart and reformed--on the topic of marriage, compassion, mental health, and rebellion. The closet door makes a fine editing wall. I hope to remove that one and breathe organization to a new piece soon. But that all depends on how much writing I get done in my little room.