|Pussy willows in an orange vase and other important trinkets aren't intimidated to stand in front of this background.|
I've been working on this mural on and off this month. [Word to the wise: cheap paints are great for lampshades, not so great for murals when you're having to give it a third coat to get the color on!] The design is not mine, but one from Anthropology's Gloria rug. I fell in love with its color theory and repeating, floral design. But I thought it should be on a wall, not under your feet. So I started my mural...
|It was a little easier working from a design|
with such clearly marked color blocks.
What's fun about a mural is how it stands in the face of high art and tells its snootie face to shove it! Ha! It's so very utilitarian. It's so very practical. And with its bigger-than-life presence, commands an audience to pause and stare.
While I was painting this though I couldn't get the "All In the Golden Afternoon" song out of my head. Does it not remind you of Disney's rendition of Alice in Wonderland?! Particularly the tiger lilies that roar? I instant messaged my friend, a fellow Alice lover, and chatted about it. I told her about how I never understood why those flowers were so mean to Alice. And here came the deep thoughts....
How sad that Alice, in a world created by her own imagination "where everything would be nonsense," was ousted from it. She made it up, only to be ridiculed out of it. She wasn't accepted because she wasn't what others thought as beautiful. [Well, with the exception of Bud.] And since she didn't fit a label, she posed to be a threat.
|This is how our living room's mantel looked|
for a good 2-3 weeks, taunting me.
Much like my Jesus. Jesus entered into this world in a very unorthodox way, with paradoxical teachings, and with little to be compared to. He was ridiculed, made an outsider, received with skepticism, told he didn't fit into this world. That He created. How sad! How surprising! And yet how totally expected by our Savior. How scornful the mocking. How tragic His death. How all the more beautiful His redemption.
This fourth I celebrated not by painting the roses red (they're white in the mural) but with a little croquet and remembering that battles are often fought by those on the outskirts. While the mainstream is bumbbling along, those on the fringes looking in have a better perspective on what a better life holds. I've always wished to be "in," but maybe being "out" is worth the joy within.
|Our formal living room all put together! I can't get away from needing a toy bin in every room, even this one. |
The room changes every week as my whim changes, and as the Salvation Army provides.