I'll Be Home

It was a decade a go this week. The Husband & I traveled to Portland from our cottage in Seattle to visit a friend who was not expected to make it through his battle with cancer. Dave & Trish were longtime buddies that we visited with a few times a year. We had been throughtough times together. Trish called & let us know that Dave had been asking for us, so we traveled to Portland for what we were sure would be a tearful & troubled trip.

After a short visit that seemed to tax our friend, I was very shaken by Dave's condition & appearance & thought a drive & fresh air would lift us. We didn't actually have an agenda or know exactly where we were. The Husband & I were enjoying driving around & looking at the Portland neighborhoods & the homes & gardens as we drifted around North & Northeast Portland, Oregon.

We stopped once when I requested that the husband grab a flyer from the Plexiglas box attached to a "For Sale" sign in front of a pleasing Queen Anne home with an abundant rose garden, not our style at all, but I was curious about the price of homes in Portland.

We were shocked, stunned & stymied that what would be some homo's dream home, was listed at $160,000. We had been exploring the idea of buying a house in Seattle, where we had been renters, 15 years in the same 900 square foot house in the Wallingford neighborhood.  There were no, this in not hyperbole, NO homes in Seattle for less that $300,000, which might get you a meth-lab/chicken coop.

We drove for a but longer when the Husband exclaimed: "Stop! Pull Over! I am going to be sick!". He was clutching his chest & was having difficulty getting his breath.  When the Husband was at last collected enough to speak, his eyes were wide as he blurted: "Oh, My God! We are going to move to Portland!" I knew it was true in an instant.

David lived & then managed to get through 2 more bouts of different cancers. He & Trish divorced eventually. We purchased a little working class bungalow in a marginal neighborhood & were living here 12 weeks later.

From our real estate agent when we first moved in the house. This is what Post Apocalyptic Bohemia looked like a decade ago.

The same view a decade later

The mommies on the block have told me that the kids call the front garden: "The Jungle Of Russet Street"

The approach to the front porch

Some details from near the front porch

The view from inside looking out

"The Details Are Not The Details. They Make The Design." Charles Eames

I call them "watch-dogs". I believe that they were meant to be card holders. I found both them in separate junk shops on the same day in the mid-1980w... but have never seen another since. I collect bits & pieces of clocks & watches for The Husband to use in his assemblages. His work is often about the passage of time.

My balls.

Words To Live By... Post Apocalyptic Bohemia is crowded with quotes that inspire me.

A Little Spin Around Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

I had an unexpected day off today: no obligations, no husband, no agenda, no automobile... just time alone in the house on a blustry spring day to read, Facebook, blog, nap, & cuddle with Junior. Sometimes don't you just desire some alone time & a rare chance to "just be"? 

Before

After

(You can click on any image to enlarge)

The Husband on the other hand, can hardly stay still. On his own day off with the house to himself, he reworked the front room & edited some of the collections. In the winter we use this room for the fireplace, in the summer we move to the back of the house to enjoy the back garden & The Boys' Fort. 

Below are some details from the mantle. More than a half decade ago, the Husband removed the original tiles surrounding the fireplace with the intention of replacing them with mirror tiles. I loved the resulting look so much that I had The Husband put off finishing it. He did silver leaf a corner. The fireplace & mantle have that Post Apocalyptic Bohemian look that I have a passion for. This part of the house seems to be part New Orleans shotgun shack & part Venice Palazzo's decaying sitting room.

The framed ExVotos are early 19th century Venetian, purchased at a favorite junk shop in Venice on our anniversary in 1991.

The crucifix is early 19th century Indian carved ivory, found in a NYC shop that sold goods from India. Also in this tableau are a hand beaded sea anemone (a wedding gift), a piece of coral, & a pencil that belonged to The Husband's sister who, in the beginning of the 1970s, passed away in her early 20s from diabetes.

Mantle details

The Husband collects boxes, possibly to balance my collection of orbs.

Details from one of the Husband's in process assemblages.

The ubiquitous shots of Junior.

I hope you enjoyed the tour. I hope you will come back soon. I feel bad that you didn't have time for a cocktail!

Inspiration

The Husband & I have been doing Inspiration Walls in our seperate work areas since that late 1970s. We have also always had a joint Inspiration Wall... located, of course, on the fridge.

The Husband's Wall in his studio.

 & the current Inspiration Wall of your host.

Junior looks to the daddies for inspiration... tell me, where do you go to be inspired?

Fine Dining

When we moved into Post Apocalyptic Bohemia 9+ years ago, we dismissed what had been described as the "formal dining room" as a nook of little importance. The Husband announced that this space would never be a dining room & that we would be treating the space as a "nook" off the front room.

In 2004, the Husband took this space down to the bare studs. We lived with it this way for 6 years. I loved it! It was very Post Apocalyptic Bohemian, the style that I go for. I was always inspired by spaces in Venice that were elegance layered with decay. I always thought I could love in a reclaimed ruin.

We seem to be getting all grown up. Darn! The Husband, with some help from T, has been finishing this space (or at least until he gets his next big idea). What I enjoy the most is the gradual transformation from the least desirable part of the house to my favorite spot to sit & just be. Larry & Junior find it to be inviting also.

Two of the walls are boards that the Husband cut, bleached & stained to look the color of Oregon driftwood. In late February, he plastered the other wall, repeating the stripe made from the joining of the boards of the other wall. It took the Husband 5 tries to create an effect he was pleased with. At one point the Husband had buffed the plaster, without the stripes, so that it looked like animal hide. We both hated the result. Tears were shed, with the Husband doubting his own talent. I never doubted him.


The Husband & I met 34 years ago in the Theatre World. He was an extraordinary set designer & his talent is what first drew me to him. The telling is in the details. Here are a few details from a space truly transformed through talent & tenacity:

Goings On At Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

I was startled to hear someone else say what I have been saying for a decade- "Your house is like the Winchester Mystery House, if your husband keeps working on it, building, changing... he will never die."


Post Apocalyptic Bohemia is situated in a regulation working class bungalow in a working class neighborhood. The original house had 2 small bedrooms off of a tiny hallway. Those bedrooms are now each of our workspaces. The husband recently sealed off the original door to his space, & built a wall.  On Monday,The Husband & our dear friend T, a gilder by trade, silver leafed the wall. When you enter the front door of our hovel, it is a straight shot to the new wall. On reflection the next day, the Husband owned up to feeling that the wall was ostentatious. I am crazy about it. What do you think?

Before

Where there once was door & now there is a wall

The process, & you can't have too many boys in horizontal striped T-shirts. Skinny guys really piss me off! If I wore horizontal stipes, I would look like a carnival tent.

Do I like it, or am I frieghtened by the silver wall?

Larry & I enjoy the wall this morning...

The piece of woodwork at the top is a vintage Thai architectural element, also gulided by T.

There is no reason to post this photograph except that T has a fine ass & the Husband is handsome when he is earnest.

The State Of The Art

The Husband would like to have a cleaner palette, I am quite sure. The Post Apocalyptic Bohemian style came about from the husband's willingness to deal with my collections juxtapositioned against his desire to strip things down to the basics, like walls, ceilings, & floors, & then leaving them unfinished as he considers his options... for years.


Our little working class bungalow from the early 1940s, was designed with a short hall way that led to the 2 small bedrooms. One original bedroom is my workspace & the other is the Husband's studio/office. The Husband recently walled up the original doorway to his space & knocked out the wall between our 2 spaces, with idea of using 2 lovely old doors fixed to a barndoor track that will divide our spaces. This may happen in the teens, but I am hoping it will be done by 2020.

This is the view from where I sit at my worktable. The Husband cut the slit that opens my space up to the kitchen with a view all way through to the tiny dining room.

After the wall came down, this became the view from my worktable through to the Husband's Studio. The strange looking device mid-picture is one of the many exercise devices that the Husband spotted on an infomercial, & just had to have.

The view from the Husband's studio to my work space.

This is the new wall where the door to the original bedroom always existed. The Wolf Head, made of archival cardboard, glue & screws, is by Seattle artist Scott Fife, who along with his talented architect wife- Susan, were our neighbors & good friends in Seattle for 20 years. Here is another link to Scott's Work. The Husband added a bare Manzanita branch that he has hung with crystals & placed it with a piece of salvaged iron work. All the components have been in other parts of the house, but I really like this grouping. It looks very winter & vaguely Russian somehow. A Chekhovian Christmas scene?

I feel that the Husband indulges my need to join the practice of posting bits of ephemera on the stainless steel refrigerator. Millions of households stick soccer schedules, post cards & shopping lists on their fridges, mine is just, well... Gayer. Some of the scraps of paper are phrases that I have had on the appliance for decades. Some of them have become tattoos. One side has vintage photographs from my Men With Men Photo Collection. I once finished the NY Times Sunday Crossword, in ink, with no errors. It was on my fridge until it turned yellow, brittle & crumbled away. Do you have flotsam & jetsam stuck to your fridge?

 This is a reverse shot through the slit, looking to the back of the house. Can you spot our Christmas Tree in the very far background?  Our Christmas tree is always outside, not in.

Some of these images have been on 3 refrigerators, in different houses, & 2 cities going back decades.

This is Baby Butch playing the Baby Jesus, a long time Post Apocalyptic Bohemian tradition.

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