I promised myself it wouldn't happen. But it did. We moved into our apartment a year-and-a-half ago and I vowed not to fall into that rut of putting everything in its place and then not moving anything ever. I unpacked, set-up, fussed for a day or two, and that was that.
But with only 613sqft, it's hard to make a lot of changes, short of painting or blowing a hole in something. I mean, even changing the furniture arrangement is impossible. Everything fits in here one way only.
When I was a kid I moved my bedroom furniture around monthly. It made me feel alive to wake up facing another direction. I would always do it by myself, no help needed, moving each piece a quarter inch at a time, shimmying around the 12X12 room, sometimes ducking under the bed or climbing over the dresser to get to the other side. I'd finish up, run the vacuum across the 10 square feet of visible carpet, and proudly throw the door open, showing it off like a real estate agent: "And Mom, you'll see here along the south wall I've placed this shelf I repurposed from the family room; doesn't it showcase my pen collection beautifully?"
So, recently I got a hankering for change. With the weather shifting, it seemed a good time for a little nesting. We've had this blank wall just inside the apartment. The plan was to hang a large-scale giclée print of this image, a favourite from our trip to Cuba. But, you know, that was probably never going to happen. For now, a bit of a photo wall.
In our old house I hung my photos everywhere. We had the space, and they looked quite lovely all over the place. I restrained myself a bit here in the apartment. But no longer! I chose a few from over the years and clustered them (each 16X20, so fairly large) on the empty wall. It certainly gives the eye something to land on, and is more balanced with the other parts of the room. The stark emptiness always bothered me. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it, but now that there are holes in the wall, there they will stay.