OLR-1/2DRM Summary: Part 1

It’s 5:30 am and my b-day party starts in exactly twelve hours. As I have roughly eleven and a half of them to kill, I thought I’d provide Rib readers with a summary of Operation Living Room & Half Dining Room Makeover.

The short version is that it was a smashing success.

For those of you with stamina, here’s the long version…

The project - which was an experiment, really - was a lot of fun. It had a few rough spots but nothing a little TLC and pumice couldn’t handle.

Like when I almost had a heart attack over the living room paint. It took me eight hours to paint that room (tons of edge work, oy) and when I was done it looked an unfamiliar shade of blue that I thought would, like, totally clash with the green in the carpet. Stephanie the Super Designer talked me down and convinced me to wait a bit before rushing out for new paint. A day or two later I was convinced I’d been delusional from the paint fumes. The color Stephanie had suggested is, in face, perfect.

As poetic as it would have been to sit on the Bush administration, it was more enjoyable to donate pixilated Desert Storm to Project Linus. I think I’ve served my country well in helping to provide “love, a sense of security, warmth and comfort to children who are seriously ill, traumatized, or otherwise in need through the gifts of new, handmade blankets and afghans, lovingly created by volunteer blanketeers.” Meanwhile, my dining room chairs are now a feisty yet peaceful leopard print.

The adorable accent chair we found will not be making an appearance at the party; alas, it’s on back-order. But I’m not complaining because the leather chair for the other side of the room perfectly matches the existing couch in color and style - a real coup, given that the couch is two years old and discontinued by the manufacturer.

We had to scrap the cool “invisible bracket” shelving idea for one particularly difficult to decorate corner. The studs in the wall are too far apart to provide sufficient stability, and I had visions of one of them crashing unexpectedly to the floor - no thanks. No worries though, because when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. Now I had an excuse to buy a piece of art I’d admired for a long time that looks smashing in that space.

Kevin didn’t want to spend money on a new mantel for the unused gas fireplace. Problem was, it would never do to keep the faux-brass, lopsided horror of a front piece that was installed by the house’s previous owner (who, judging by her inability to do properly any of her various attempts at decor, is half-howler monkey). Since we’ve always planned to remove the fireplace entirely, Kevin proposed we just do it now. I agreed, fearing all the while I would end up with a gaping hole on party day. Oh, me of little faith. The thing was gone within a day, the hole drywalled and smoothly patched by the next. You’d never know it had been there.

Stephanie only gave me stink-eye once during the whole project, and that was the afternoon in Macy’s Furniture when I proposed putting a loveseat in front of the new fireplace-less space. She patiently explained to me the aesthetic of the room, and how that wall is directly across from the doorway, and how it would be folly to introduce leather-covered turbulence into the visual arc. Or something like that.

When I didn’t seem to be getting it, she shouted, “Don’t you understand? You’re ruining my wall!” Remembering the paint episode, I decided that perhaps the professionals know more than I do. And I am glad I did because now rather than lurching, one’s vision soars gracefully around the room.

Public talking-tos notwithstanding, the most challenging element of OLRM-1/2DRM was not furniture but art. I’m really picky about art, especially in my home. I have no desire to fill my highly personal space with framed posters of Great Works of Art we’ve all seen a million times.¹ And I’m not much into couch art, those “fine art” abstracts that all look the same. Almost all of my existing pieces are paintings or photos created by friends or relatives. But didn’t have enough to fill the two new large spaces in my living room; thus the Great Art Hunt began.

Early in the game while chair shopping, I happened to spot one striking canvas transfer that I simply had to have. It was love at first sight, and anyone who knows me will understand why. It wouldn’t fit in my car so I had to come back with my truck. It hangs where the fireplace was, and it’s the first thing you see when you look into the room.

More difficult was the space over the couch. I needed something long - like at least 52 inches. After looking at approximately thirty-seven thousand pieces in every store within fifty miles of my house, I eventually decided to print and frame three beautiful photos that friend and Rib reader James took on our trip to Europe in 2006. But by that time, I only had one week left, so custom framing was out. (I used be an art framer and our turn-around time was two weeks.)

I bought three different types of ready-made frames from three different places; I could settle for the cheap wood, but the murky glass in them would have to go. I went to the custom framing place up the street from my house to see if he could sell me three pieces of glass. When he found out what I was doing, he offered to custom frame them for me at a discount, since I’m a regular customer.

“That’s sweet of you,” I said, “but I have to have them for a party tomorrow.”

“I can do that,” he said.

Well, slap my ass and call me a bitch.²

Yesterday afternoon I returned all the shitty craft store frames, and today I pick up three lovely custom-framed photos. And Mr. Righteous Rib Art Framer will get a hand-made thank you card and my undying gratitude.

I’m exhausted, but it was all worth it. Later today, I will post before ‘n after photos on my Flickr account, which will comprise most of Part 2. And of course stay tuned for the post-party epilogue: Lamp Shade Hat (working title).

1. When I was an art framer, it drove me crazy when people would bring in their five-dollar poster of a Picasso pastel or Da Vinci drawing and ask us to paint it with clear gel so it would look like an “original oil.” AAAAAAAARGH. [↩]
2. South Park, for those with more refined senses of humor. [↩]

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