Every picture tells a story.

Good day to you, and welcome to my home.  I am going to share with you the pictures that decorate my little house.  I love my pictures , I have always decorated walls with a variety of images, since being small. It is important to me , to create around me a space that reflects my loves, my interests.  I have moved house lots of times, and it always gives me an opportunity to relinquish old favourites, and bring in new ones.  Often, the pictures that I take down are given new homes by friends of mine, and I love the idea that there are pictures that once belonged to me, were part of my life, now decorating other peoples lives.  It’s like sharing books that are meaningful to me, a little bit of me goes out there with them. This particular picture makes me smile.  It is full of hope and optimism, and makes me think of my mum, since it was originally hers, chosen just after enduring a difficult divorce after a long marriage.  It reminds me how full of courage she was, to embrace a single life in middle age, with an attitude that was positive and life enhancing. We have not always had an easy relationship, and I was touched that she wanted to pass this on to me, for me to enjoy.

Next up,I bought this when I was very young, about twenty, and not earning much at all.  I had managed to put a deposit down on my first house, and every penny was spoken for , every month, for a very long time. I had seen it , and fell in love with it. It was meant to belong to me.   Still, somehow I managed to save up and buy this from one of my favourite galleries in Nottingham, Focus Galleries which is now owned by a lovely couple, one of whom is a painter himself. He and I had become friends when he worked at a different gallery making frames. I used to pop in there during lunch times, to drool over the pictures, and have a chat.  Incidentally, one of my favourite paintings I own is by him. I shall be showing you it in good time. ‘Deux Pigeons du matin’ has had a place in every house I have lived in since . That must be six houses it has hung in so far.

Here’s one I did myself, from a masterpiece by Goya I think ( it is along time ago ) . One of the things I like to do is draw and paint.  I don’t do it enough, but when I do , I get that lovely feeling of being immersed in activity that blocks out all the daily tribulations.  I forgot sometimes, how to do it. It is worth remembering , because they are the times that nurture you. Now I get the same enjoyment from gardening. The passage of time definitely does have its advantages. I would never have considered gardening to be an activity I would crave. Bizarre.

These two are very sweet memories of Italian holidays spent with Chris.  The first is a monochrome ink drawing by a street artist we came across in Florence, who was a great enthusiast for his art.  I like that Italian temperament of openness and passion. The second coloured version of a typical Italian view of roofs is actually a hand made book mark, picked up for pennies in a gorgeous book shop, full with hand made paper and books.  The artisan craft of paper making is strong in Florence, and captivating for a person of my proclivities. I am like  the proverbial kid in a sweet shop. So excited.

I will leave you there today. They aren’t the only pictures up in the hall, as I tend to use every inch of wall space I have.  It has a very eclectic  feel to it, and opposes every fashionable design rule in the book, but I don’t give a damn.  They are all lovely to me, and so they stay. See you all soon.

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