in honor of handpainting

Last week I had a guy out to my house to give me an estimate on what it would cost to paint my buffet, china cabinet, and also my kitchen table and chairs (they are oak, and because of that it's never been a question of whether it should be done, but rather when.) The price is reasonable if I take it one piece at a time. I know I could do these myself, but I don't ever want to be in a position of regretting that I just didn't have it done professionally. These are pieces that I will only want to have done once. I won't have them done right away, but when I do I will of course (!) be posting pictures here.

Anyway, a word about painting. More specifically, hand painting. Furniture, art, tableware, glassware, murals. It's a wonderful thing when you see it in a home. Usually there is a special story behind the particular piece. You know, 'this was painted for me by a friend', or, 'this was a gift from a neighbor before I moved away', or even, 'I don't know the artist but I love her things'. I love that there is a connection to these items, that they are not just things or even just beautiful things. They are little pieces of a living scrapbook that you keep around you to remind you of the people and places you love.

That said, I have a few handpainted pieces that I want to share with you over time, starting with this rocking chair. It belonged to my great-grandmother. I had it in my room growing up and brought it with me when I moved into my first apartment. When we bought our house I had the seat re-caned, and then found an artist through my mother in-law to paint it (the wood was once dark.) Once I had seen in a magazine a woman who painted the closing date of her house on the back of a bench she had in her foyer. I thought this would be a wonderful way to commemorate our new home and also honor this chair that has been such a consistent part of my life.