“A small illustration or portrait photograph which fades into its background without a definite border. verb”
In the academic school year ‘85-’86 I was privileged to attend Columbia College, a private art college in the city of Chicago. I was so enamored with the experience, walking along Michigan Ave., grabbing a bagel at the Artist’s Café (now closed) and going to school for theatre, switching to film in the second semester. Throughout the entire year, I did the work/study program and I was the property mistress for the theatre. What an exciting time in my life. Not only did I get to travel to a variety of Chicago theatres collecting props for our shows, I dressed the sets.
The show I had the largest impact on was Stage Door, it tells the story of several would-be actresses who live together in a boarding house in New York City in the 30’s. I had read the script and felt I had a solid understanding of what the set should look like. I went to numerous theatres and antique shops and dressed a set fitting for the older woman who ran the boarding house. Afterall, it was her home and the would-be actresses were simply boarders. However, the script called for a full-length mirror for all the girls to “check” themselves before going out into the world. That, in my opinion, was for them, not the woman who owned the home.
After the set was built and dressed, the art director called me to have a meeting. She told me that at first, she didn’t think I had dressed the set properly, but then she realized that the home belonged to the older woman, not the would-be actresses and that I had done an excellent job. The only thing they had to “fix” were the fake roses I had purchased for the vase. They were too bright, so they toned them down with some black spray paint. I immediately brought down in tears and when asked why, I responded, “I thought it was perfect, but it was not.” That one little constructive criticism, if even you can call it that, destroyed me. I wanted it to be perfect and it wasn’t.
Yes, I am my own worst enemy, and many people would say that it was good enough, but I don’t do good enough. Or at least, I do my best not to do good enough. Having been married to an alcoholic, I have become quite talented at creating the illusion that everything is good, maybe not perfect, but good by most folk’s standards. It’s sort of like Facebook. Everyone posts images of how wonderful their lives are, but what one may not realize is that those photos are cropped images, only showing what one wants to be seen. I have a former work friend who posts the most amazing images of her MCM home, with an equally amazing garden, every single photo is a work of art. When I had the chance to visit with her, I asked, “Is there anything you don’t do brilliantly?” She proceeded to tell me how her husband has just lost his job and then began to list the things in her life that weren’t so brilliant. We tend to only show the world our best side, unless you’re me, that is. TMI Gail shares everything, whether you like it or not. However, I too have become quite good at cropping the images of my life.
I love my home and garden. I have created a place that I love to be, more so than traveling the world, I prefer to be home. I recently realized that I have dressed my own stage. Each room in my home represents my thoughts, my passions, my dreams, and aspirations. When I look in this direction, what do I see? Is there balance? What is the story I’m trying to tell? What do the pieces I choose say about me? I often wonder what goes through a stranger’s mind when they first see my home? “How old is she anyway?” is my best guess. Each room is a stage, dressed for entertaining not only guests, but more importantly, me. A walk through my home is like a walk through my soul. How did I get to this place in my life, a place where I so blatantly express myself? Honestly, I think I have always been this way, it’s just that I now do it more publicly.
I love to create vignettes, small portraits without definite borders. Here is an image of one small portion of my home office: A brown painted wicker rocking chair I found in the alley. I have partially covered it with a crocheted Afghan that was given to me forever ago, by someone I do not recall. I have added a throw pillow in a similar color spectrum and a decorative throw pillow that resembles a deep purple flower. In front of the pillows, I have ever so carefully placed a sign, a recent Christmas gift that states, “enjoy the little things”. I have taken a photo of this vignette, carefully cropping the image to only show what I want to be seen. One does not see the clutter surrounding the chair, the pile of unorganized office supplies, many that are left over from my father’s stuffs. One does not see the dust or the need to vacuum, the windows in need of repair or the other miscellaneous messes. No, one only sees the carefully dressed set of my office, the tiny window that I wish to share with the world, or not, I have the power to share it on social media, or not, but still, it is my vignette of my home office.
I follow the same principles in my garden. What do I want people to see? What is the story I want to be told? In my garden, I literally sit in one spot and look at each space, in sections to determine if the “feeling”, the “theme” of my story is being honored. Maybe I should move that solar light to the right? Is that the color I want represented there? Am I done with my tiki phase? Maybe I’m moving more towards shabby chic? Who is Groovy Gail at this moment and what does she want to see when she has those precious moments to sit and reflect on how I got here? Too deep? No, just an average day in the workings of my mind.
I was recently telling my therapist about how I will be taking over the “flagship” store of our company. He asked me how I felt about taking on such a dubious task. Since I was sitting in my home office when the question was posed, I looked up to a piece of art that I have had in my possession for many years. The first time I saw it, I cried. The words touched my soul and I knew I had to have it and hang it prominently in my home. I reached up and removed it from the wall, and embarrassingly realized how dusty it was. As I wiped it off, it was like I was wiping off the dust of an old promise I had made to myself, but had forgotten. I had promised myself to never to mediocre, to always do my best because good enough, was not my style.
The art work states, “What if I fall?” a fear that has held me back countless times in my life. If I can’t be brilliant at it, why should I do it at all? Hence, the mediocre high school academic career. However, it is followed up by, “Oh but darling, what if you fly?” When I began my career with this company, during my interview I had stated that I was hoping for an opportunity to see how high, is high? Maybe, this is my opportunity. I’ve been so sad, with the closing of my store. I’ve been having minor panic attacks as I watch the shelves empty out, this is not the store I nurtured and “dressed” for its performances.
Oddly, the comments I’ve received from customers are not about the appearance of the store, but more so of the loss of the feeling one had when walking through our door. My focus had always been to create my own very special Kumbaya, a place where people would feel uplifted, simply by walking through the door. This is a place of peace and understanding. A place where you can freely speak your thoughts and share your fears in hopes of finding an answer. This place is clean and safe, inviting…this place is home. Okay, maybe I’m being a little dramatic, shock, horror, surprise, but it is what I was trying to do. Yes, it’s just a health food store, but as one customer told me, “Your more than a grocery store, you help people.” Fuck yeah, that’s Kumbaya baby!
I have no idea what awaits me at my new location. I won’t know my team, but I will figure them out. Honestly, I feel badly for them, they have no idea what Gail force winds they may encounter, but I will do my best not to frighten them, on my first day. I am taking my desk with me and all my other props so I may dress the office and create a womb of safety and creativity. I hope to gain my team’s confidence as I lead them to all things groovy. I fully realize that I am an acquired taste, so I will be gentle with them. I will crop the image of myself, present a vignette of who I am, no defined borders, and I will gingerly welcome all who dare to enter. Given time, I will create a new Kumbaya…and fly.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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