I can’t hang anything on the walls here. It’s a nice place, a seedy hotel’s best attempt at modern, almost well done except for the curtains. White walls. The lamps I bought to combat the twenty four hour darkness cast shadows from everything, so they never seem as white as they are. And there are three framed posters on two of the walls, just hand-drawn stripes and polka dots, but I like them, and the walls don’t ever seem quite as empty as they are.
Only the little breakfast area seems bare, with too few objects to paint the wall with shadows and no patterns hanging near. If I lived here, really, like if it was my home, I’d probably hang up something silly. Maybe something useful. At the apartment I had with an ex, I had mail hangers and shelves above the table, which I’d stocked with coloring books and school supplies for my children. The place was too small for a desk. So were the children.
At my last place, I had cut the logos and phrases off my favorite graphic tees, which were fading or no longer white, and framed them to hang at the front entrance. It felt very “me.” I think that’s what I do, I fill up the place with myself. Serious here and there, but happy, laid back, warm and peaceful. I like being with myself. It feels good.
I might hang those frames here if I could. I had a calendar above the table for a moment but it just looked awkward, so now it’s behind the front door, out of sight. Only problem is, I can’t see it there. It’s ugly anyway. I need a white board. Much more useful.
Wall to wall
What do you display on the walls of your home—photos, posters, artwork, nothing? How do you choose what to display