That is the art of compromise between what you see on furnishing magazines and the harsh reality of the tangled channels, sockets, power strips, loose wires, devastated walls ……
Tot: 90% pure grunge 10% shabby not properly chic but we try it
These days, taken by incontrovertible need such rapture, I decided to tackle the epic undertaking / zen of painting home. Epic / zen for several reasons, let’s show in great detail. Let’s start from the beginning.
As city zen Lama in times of crisis council to practice karma yoga, or the yoga; distemper, clean and throw the old accumulated between the walls of the house has a cathartic value. So, in addition to dispensing it as advice from consistent Lama I apply to myself. But not only are they a city zen Lama, is also an artist (which in this case is an aggravating rather than an advantage), so I decide that the house has its own soul, must be respected, and I have to understand what are the colors that best adapt to its energy. Start a ’empirical survey done racing in paint factory, car trips in the various Sores, in search of nuances, each time with the rich spoils of the samples, the Holy Grail type dell’imbianchino, I come home full of hope. The walls are covered with samples, the research is in its full. The relatives are factored in spite of the recalcitrant protests, a little ‘out of necessity and a little’ curiosity kidnapped by “green Cape Town”, “good morning blues Oslo”, “Verdi veranda”, sophisticated grays to “all about gray”, “Magnolia”, “white chalk” and other less happy choices that are close to the “mole” and surroundings. The spirit that animates me is very positive, innovation, art, esprit nouveau is my mantra. Then he begins to creep part of karma yoga, and zen. The house is full of things, whitewashed wall after wall, emptying, throwing, tidying, cleaning, proud as a penitent, bright as a yogini, the “Eat Pray Love”, I replace a jaunty “empties, whitening, lava.” The effect is almost the same. Hunger is fierce after physical work, my son looks at me terrified. But here in this swirl of rolls and milk an insane thought begins to make its way into the mind, it is the classic war of city zen Lama, my spiritual test. They will give away two decoration magazines, yes, right now. The comparison is a must. In homes brought to the model, there are no closets, there are no books, at least, not nearly a tenth of ours, no toothbrushes, things in the kitchen, not even a spoon, there are things out there that I know two slippers, nothing. Okay tell me, life seems not to live there, or they are aliens. Then we come to the most painful notes, the walls, those of magazines, are whitened tone fairytale, green sage and stucco, turquoise and red of Herculaneum, concrete exposed as it were a work of Canova, with fierce pride, as opposed to neutral shades of beds made so well to cry. Incidentally I’ve never figured out how to make the bed and have it stretched, so I took all duvets, duvet covers, it crumples everything shake and go. According to my theory the duvet keeps you warm in winter and cool in summer. Then the walls, theses, shaved, straight, electrical outlets: invisible.
As city zen blade I wavered, the confrontation was devastating. My walls are indescribable, the outlets joined in slippers, with wires and ducts popping out everywhere. This afternoon because whitening are in the middle of these issues, the family gathered, we add a power strip? We add a channel? Here or there? The decision was between what was functional and aesthetically decent and hidden but unreachable for inconvenience. Such that access to the socket must move three mobile and handing me back to get doing Pilates and yoga stretching +. Well, home sweet home, this is the reality. Wires, plugs, power strips, walls from Zen meditation, and chaos everywhere. Art, meditation, karma yoga and downright ugly wires mixed with everything that flows and is called life. I passed my spiritual test as Gandalf has refused the ring of power, I refused the perfect home and lifeless. Are almost at peace with myself …..