Homes without books are icky soulless spaces. I only hope these people have worn out library cards. "Books are not made for furniture, but there is nothing else that so beautifully furnishes a house," said Henry Ward Beecher. I agree. Whether you're a big reader or not, books are a must-have decorating accessory to create coziness. Pick up bargains at thrift stores and garage sales.
Turn the page on how you store your books. Ditch the dust covers and let the beautiful bindings and covers show. The metallic ink against matte-colored covers offers an elegant library look to your collection. Vary stacks horizontally and vertically by subject matter to create visual interest and organization. Stash those Harlequin romances and other paperbacks in decorative boxes on lower shelves.
Displaying books in unexpected places adds panache to your home.
"Let books be your dining table,
And you shall be full of delights
Let them be your mattress
And you shall sleep restful nights."
~Author Unknown
That quote inspires a few design options. Consider adding built-ins to your dining room to create a warm library lounge atmosphere. Pass the brandy, please. If that's a budget buster, the same look can be achieved by lining a wall with freestanding bookcases.
Don't just stick to shelves. Let your books be free. Stacking a few larger ones on a short side table can elevate a lamp to the right height for reading all the other books. They can even be piled high to create a table.
My books seem to be giving birth faster than the bunnies out back. Too much of anything creates clutter. Edit your collection and donate the overflow to your local library.
A good book has no ending. - R.D. Cumming
Good decorating has no ending. - Me
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Monday, September 8, 2008
Ode on a Mac
“Truth is beauty. Beauty is truth.” – John Keats, Ode On a Grecian Urn. I wrote this in my journal when I was about 15. I didn’t get what it meant, but I knew it was important.
Keats was probably referring to universal truths achieved through artistic expression. Those moments of shared connection and clarity are absolutely beautiful.
Most of the time, finding truth while writing happens organically for me. It grows on its own – if I let it. Those four words are my challenge. “If I let it.” So much gets in the way - perception, distraction and ego.
In the search for truth, pathological lying or even white lies aren't the main issue. It's self-deception. There are tons of self-help books dedicated to living authentically. Getting to the beautiful truth, our own and that of others, can be awfully ugly. It's easier to detour into denial.
My subconscious seems to have a larger capacity than my front-load washer. Will all my truth bubble out one day? Will I come clean in a catastrophic manner? I can see my neighbors on the 11 o’clock news saying, “She seemed so nice. I didn't even know she had guns.” For right now, it just emerges in eye twitching, stomachaches, hives and migraines. I'd rather it come out in a novel.
Don't get me wrong. I’m a happy person. I’ve got a good life. The eternal optimist, I think everyone has the best intentions and everything will work out in the end. I rarely cry and it takes a tremendous amount to get me angry. I don’t think these traits are necessarily bad. It’s just that sometimes they get in the way of the truth. Some people are idiots with the worst intentions. It’s OK to cry when someone hurts you and sometimes anger is the right response.
Someone once told me I hide behind diplomacy and politeness. He said I avoid confrontation. I didn’t believe him. But I didn't want to argue - proved his point.
I had shared my thoughts at the loudest decibel as a teenager. But perhaps spending an inordinate amount of time grounded tamed my tongue. I’m not sure.
The problem with denial is that it can easily lead to those white lies and worse. My Aunt recently called lying a subservient act. By not telling the truth we are saying our feelings and thoughts don’t count as much as the person to whom we are lying, she explained.
That’s an interesting take. In sparing someone, we sacrifice ourselves. In deceiving, we receive an inauthentic life in return. It’s saying we don’t trust others to accept or love us as we really are. That's not so beautiful in life or writing. The best prose is raw and honest. If I want to be a good writer, it's time to allow the truth in.
Keats was probably referring to universal truths achieved through artistic expression. Those moments of shared connection and clarity are absolutely beautiful.
Most of the time, finding truth while writing happens organically for me. It grows on its own – if I let it. Those four words are my challenge. “If I let it.” So much gets in the way - perception, distraction and ego.
In the search for truth, pathological lying or even white lies aren't the main issue. It's self-deception. There are tons of self-help books dedicated to living authentically. Getting to the beautiful truth, our own and that of others, can be awfully ugly. It's easier to detour into denial.
My subconscious seems to have a larger capacity than my front-load washer. Will all my truth bubble out one day? Will I come clean in a catastrophic manner? I can see my neighbors on the 11 o’clock news saying, “She seemed so nice. I didn't even know she had guns.” For right now, it just emerges in eye twitching, stomachaches, hives and migraines. I'd rather it come out in a novel.
Don't get me wrong. I’m a happy person. I’ve got a good life. The eternal optimist, I think everyone has the best intentions and everything will work out in the end. I rarely cry and it takes a tremendous amount to get me angry. I don’t think these traits are necessarily bad. It’s just that sometimes they get in the way of the truth. Some people are idiots with the worst intentions. It’s OK to cry when someone hurts you and sometimes anger is the right response.
Someone once told me I hide behind diplomacy and politeness. He said I avoid confrontation. I didn’t believe him. But I didn't want to argue - proved his point.
I had shared my thoughts at the loudest decibel as a teenager. But perhaps spending an inordinate amount of time grounded tamed my tongue. I’m not sure.
The problem with denial is that it can easily lead to those white lies and worse. My Aunt recently called lying a subservient act. By not telling the truth we are saying our feelings and thoughts don’t count as much as the person to whom we are lying, she explained.
That’s an interesting take. In sparing someone, we sacrifice ourselves. In deceiving, we receive an inauthentic life in return. It’s saying we don’t trust others to accept or love us as we really are. That's not so beautiful in life or writing. The best prose is raw and honest. If I want to be a good writer, it's time to allow the truth in.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Where Do the Months Go?
I've become a vegetarian. Read "Skinny Bitch" and you'll understand. It has nothing to do with weight and everything to do with factory farming and toxins. It's been a few months and I don't miss much - maybe just tacos. Morningside's veggie burgers make up for it.
In an unrelated matter, working on a new non-fiction, I'll keep you posted...
In an unrelated matter, working on a new non-fiction, I'll keep you posted...
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Posts
