Spaces

It is interesting to me how the same space can have a completely different appearance under the hand of different people. Further, I am intrigued by the different uses to which individuals put space. The priorities, compromises, likes and dislikes – they fascinate me.

This has been the first time in my life that I have felt in complete control of my space. I have always rented beyond living in my parent’s home. In neither situation are you truly free to do what you will with space. Admittedly, I am still somewhat hamstrung by the fact that I own one-half of a 2-family home, but that only applies to modifications to the external structure. I have to discuss those with my neighbor. But any internal work, patio or yard work – that is all of my own choosing. So, as I put my personal stamp on my surroundings, I have been reflecting on what was the space and, now, what is the space.

This brain-exercise was stimulated by yesterday’s appointment with a landscaper to completely brick-in my rear patio. When I moved into the condo, the back patio and side of the house was completely (and I mean COMPLETELY filled with perennials. I had tulips, trumpet vine, pear trees, all sorts of things for which I know not the name…a jungle of hundreds of plants. They were summarily removed. I gutted my garden. I left behind only a few evergreen bushes along the side of the house and a lone Rose of Sharon. Everything else was purged. Some lucky neighborhood residents were on hand for the defilement and went home with a fortune in plants. I cared not (although one couple dropped of a LARGE bottle of Bacardi for me that evening). My patio was as naked as a mole rat. I had crushed stone laid down in the cleared area – there was already a large central area of brick that served/serves as an offstreet parking space.

Now, it is apparent that the previous owner cared deeply about plants. They invested heavily in species, tended them with care, manicured and modified the space to meet their tastes. Which were completely opposite of mine. I wanted no-maintenance. I didn’t want bugs and various beasties. I wanted clean and minimal. They wanted lush and organic. The same space, but no one would identify my patio as the one that was there before. It was transformed in the space of a scant few hours. And I will cleanse it further in coming months when the entire zone will be filled with homogenous brick. A Boston courtyard will be mine. Perhaps a bench or two. Some hooks could hold plants one day, if I am so inclined, or perhaps hummingbird feeders or windchimes. I am contemplating a solar-powered fountain for one corner and a bar along one wall. Regardless, the space will me “mine.”

On the interior, my stamp is becoming more pronounced with time. My guest room had been their meditation space. I saw it during the viewing I had prior to purchase. A futon with strewn pillows on the floor. Incense burners. Round stones in interesting arrangements. My bedroom had also been theirs, but theirs was a hodge-podge of mismatched pieces forming no distinct “look.” I bought coordinating furniture and chose accessories to complement these pieces. Their living room had been configured in a far different fashion than mine. In fact, I do not see the comfort in their arrangement, as they likely would not see the comfort in mine. The position of the furniture and floor coverings, the orientation of the television and stereo…They had shutters on the windows; I have curtains; they had lots of pictures; I have none, opting for a dark grapevine wreath and dragon-shaped swag and a few other atypical objects. The kitchen had housed a huge hibiscus that met the same fate as its outdoor brethren. The trappings were almost Animal House in their lack of both form and function. My kitchen is in progress, but at least I have made concession to aesthetics and efficiency.

Not a wall has been moved, no structural modifications made in any room. But, the space would not be recognized by the former owner. Different in a thousand ways, but still the same “space.” Space is morphable, it assumes the personality of its inhabitants. Perhaps that is why individuals engage in house and room reorganization subsequent to an upheaval in their lives. Or while suffering from some stress. By changing our environment, are we striving to affect a change in ourselves? Trying to reverse the imprinting phenomenon. Some go so far as to completely change spaces – moving from one space to another. Do we reorganize, redecorate, reappoint, restructure and refresh our environment in order to promote these changes in ourselves?

I am losing the crushed stone in my patio in favor of brick. The stone was a quick, temporary fix to cover the bare dirt left from the plant purgation. A stop-gap until a later time’s more permanent fix. I did, at that time, consider brick. I do not remember my actual reason for not having it installed in the first place. I would like to really think that it was a way to buy time while I more thoroughly examined my options, had the job bid by several landscapers, worked on an aesthetically-unique design…that is all tripe, though. I say this because I did none of those things. I simply decided last Friday to call the same people who removed my plants and had a representative come out Monday to give me an estimate.

Why that moment? What prompted me to pick up the phone that afternoon? No windfall from Uncle Sam, no upcoming party at which I wish to impress guests, no coming winter or rainy season that I’m trying to beat. I also took additional time over the weekend to tidy, reorganize and plan further reorganization, think about décor…I recently contacted a brilliantly talented mosaic artist, also a dear friend, to commission more of her work for my home. Not a small investment to undertake, but one that pulled at my soul with a ferocity. I began to think again about kitchen and bathroom renovation, plans that I had put aside months ago and never again spared a thought. Why now?

Am I frustrated with the lack of progress on my health issues? Am I reflecting on my single status and envisioning solitude until death? Am I peering around and seeing how many of my friends live plane flights away? Am I seeing stagnation, lack of flow, lack of growth? Are these thoughts prompting my newfound interest in changing my “space?” Do I live in subconscious hope that the process and product of the work will create a space that will project its new, fresh life onto my soul?

Or do I just hate my curtains?