There is something about the spaces we live in. They say so much about the person. Your intimate sanctuary. The books you have thumbed through, the glass you drank water with, the shoes that you take on your daily walks of life but park them side by side like cars at walmart.
Your aura. It’s all in there. I am fascinated by spaces. Of what is or what could be.
I literally call the space I work/ live in the office. It has many characters. Paints, paint brushes, books, a printer on the floor, right next by the shoes. The mini carpet where I prefer to sit and eat. There is a bookshelf that divides the room if tipped over it would collapse because of the piles of books it holds. I got it from IKEA years ago and the poor thing is hanging on for dear life. I swear it sighs with relief every time I grab a massive pattern book to look up something. Then groans in agony once the book slides back in place.
There is a red wide table by the door. I pile magazines, interesting cut ups or something I deem intresting, mail, books, a scarf, keys, colored pencils. I got the table because I needed a large surface area to cut pattern and fabric but the floor is a worthy competitor. Many patterns have been cut on the floor. Late nights listening to Kiwanuka, I come down to earth and the creative process humbles me.
Days like today, the desk is somewhat uncluttered. Trays of paint and tubes inhabit the area. The shop has been occupying my time and the red tables time. Looking around, there is no single spacethat is not occupied. Real estate in this city is a luxury. Even the window sill. It’s where I place other books to give the bookshelf a break or else that thing will collapse on me.
When I need a change of scenery, the cafe round the block is the spot. It feels like my other room - only that I have to walk a few yards to it. Reminds me of how my grandmother had an extra kitchen in the compound. We would walk over there to get ready made Githeri.
The cafe has wooden tables, and smack in the center is salt, pepper and a little mason jar adorned with flower. The walls are brick with oil paintings from unknown artists. In the corner facing the bar, is a gentleman in a tipped hat reading the paper. His skin is weathered like old leather. He is always reading something. He's probably been going there for eons because that corner seems to be reserved for him. Personally, I like to be seated by the window in the winter, or sit al fresco in the warmer months.
I then order a cup of coffee with their buttermilk pancakes. Those pancakes are divine. Every crumb melts in your mouth. Melts.In.Your.Mouth. I can eat pancakes anytime of the day. Once I have eaten every morsel on that plate. I open the computer. I stopped asking for WiFi passwords, I am home after all. I respond to emails, new content ideas, blog schedules and so forth. In between punching the keyboard, I watch people or just get lost in thought. In the space.
I am reading a booking called the Artist’s way by Julia Cameron and she mentions a Director in the book who’s favorite space is the shower. He thinks clearly when the water is running. Another one got ideas stuck in traffic. I think I would get ideas too if I got stuck in LA traffic.
It got me thinking of this space I tend to overlook. A space I bring all my visiting out of town buddies. The little space in the corner of the block. That has somehow become home.
Are there places you frequent that you can call home? Let me know :)
Keeping things super casual. I wear flats almost all the time. Loafers and brogues are still a fave. You can dress them up with skirts and dress them down in denim.