The photography prompt for this week’s Project 52 defines
negative space as the space surrounding the subject in a photo.
Here’s the space around me. I’m sitting on my queen size bed
and on it is my treasured Aussie mohair Oncaparinga blanket that I’ve had for
over fifty years. It was a gift from my parents when I was a teenager and was carted
all the way from down under to the U.S. The blanket is now threadbare, but
still warms me on cold nights and keeps me cool enough on the rare hot Seattle
summer days. Mohair is amazing! I have a Martha Stewart bed-in-a-bag bedspread,
shams, decorative pillows and drapes. I am ‘matchy-matchy’ as my daughter often
teases me. I guess the younger generation isn’t into that all-of-a-kind fashion
these days. I look to ways of finding matching sets to make up for the
decorative talent that I lack.
My bedroom furniture is Ethan Allen – bought thirty years
ago – about the only furniture I took when I left my first marriage. It took me
a long time to find this set and I have enjoyed it for years, but I’m now
getting tired of looking at it and the drawers are sticking and sagging when I open
them. Turns out the craftsmanship touted by the venerable company just isn’t
there.
On my dresser I have pictures of my family: my daughter on
one side, my son and his wife on the other and my granddaughter in the center –
and she, of course, is the centerpiece in our lives. I also have an ornate
china lidded vessel – Herend porcelain – a gift from my mother a few years
before she passed away. When she married my father she had her china custom
made by the famed Hungarian porcelain manufacturer. For her, such fine china
was a symbol of status and elegance, and so I have a little of that in my
bedroom. Next to it is a small jewelry box. Taped to the top of it is an
abstract picture drawn by my daughter when she was only a few years old. I have
always loved the intricate patterns she created and have thought them quite
precocious for her age. As I pull out and put on my earring studs every
morning, I love to gaze at her artwork, a touching touchstone to my daily
routine.
Behind my bed I have a Georgia O’Keefe print, purchased when
I toured her museum in Santa Fe some years ago. I got to go through her studio
and was impressed with how organized she was cataloguing her colors – hundreds
of shades stacked by hue – and how she kept scores of paint brushes
immaculately clean and stored according to size. Her genius was uncluttered –
enviable!
Also on my walls I have pictures my daughter, Stephanie has
taken: a calendar she creates every year: this one features recent trips we
have taken together to Crater Lake and to Mt. Rainier. I have the joy of gazing
on a new amazing photo every month. I also have a shot of me with my
granddaughter that Steph took in Hawaii that greets me as I walk in the room. Her
photos of frangipani and hibiscus also adorn the walls, reminding me of my
beloved tropical sacred space.
I love the view outside my window: the green space in the
center of the cul-de-sac, the surrounding town houses that line the street, the
silhouette of the Cascade Mountains against the sky; the glistening waters of
Lake Washington that peak out between the trees and buildings. And, as part of
my view, I have a special gift: on clear mornings I get a glimpse of the side
of Mt. Rainier – a sliver of Little Tahoma as the easterly small peak is named.
I knew this townhouse was the place for me when I went about
looking for a new location eight years ago. As I sit in my bedroom, gazing
about my ‘negative space,’ I am happy and I know that I have chosen well. I am
glad that I listened to my heart, my intuition, my gut. I am glad I paid
attention, and I am grateful to be here.
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