The State Of The Art

The Husband would like to have a cleaner palette, I am quite sure. The Post Apocalyptic Bohemian style came about from the husband's willingness to deal with my collections juxtapositioned against his desire to strip things down to the basics, like walls, ceilings, & floors, & then leaving them unfinished as he considers his options... for years.


Our little working class bungalow from the early 1940s, was designed with a short hall way that led to the 2 small bedrooms. One original bedroom is my workspace & the other is the Husband's studio/office. The Husband recently walled up the original doorway to his space & knocked out the wall between our 2 spaces, with idea of using 2 lovely old doors fixed to a barndoor track that will divide our spaces. This may happen in the teens, but I am hoping it will be done by 2020.

This is the view from where I sit at my worktable. The Husband cut the slit that opens my space up to the kitchen with a view all way through to the tiny dining room.

After the wall came down, this became the view from my worktable through to the Husband's Studio. The strange looking device mid-picture is one of the many exercise devices that the Husband spotted on an infomercial, & just had to have.

The view from the Husband's studio to my work space.

This is the new wall where the door to the original bedroom always existed. The Wolf Head, made of archival cardboard, glue & screws, is by Seattle artist Scott Fife, who along with his talented architect wife- Susan, were our neighbors & good friends in Seattle for 20 years. Here is another link to Scott's Work. The Husband added a bare Manzanita branch that he has hung with crystals & placed it with a piece of salvaged iron work. All the components have been in other parts of the house, but I really like this grouping. It looks very winter & vaguely Russian somehow. A Chekhovian Christmas scene?

I feel that the Husband indulges my need to join the practice of posting bits of ephemera on the stainless steel refrigerator. Millions of households stick soccer schedules, post cards & shopping lists on their fridges, mine is just, well... Gayer. Some of the scraps of paper are phrases that I have had on the appliance for decades. Some of them have become tattoos. One side has vintage photographs from my Men With Men Photo Collection. I once finished the NY Times Sunday Crossword, in ink, with no errors. It was on my fridge until it turned yellow, brittle & crumbled away. Do you have flotsam & jetsam stuck to your fridge?

 This is a reverse shot through the slit, looking to the back of the house. Can you spot our Christmas Tree in the very far background?  Our Christmas tree is always outside, not in.

Some of these images have been on 3 refrigerators, in different houses, & 2 cities going back decades.

This is Baby Butch playing the Baby Jesus, a long time Post Apocalyptic Bohemian tradition.

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