“Whatever happens in the world – whatever is discovered or created or bitterly fought over – eventually ends up, in one way or another, in your house…Houses aren’t refuges from history. They are where history ends up.” ~ Bill Bryson
Two things that give me so much joy I squeal – Bill Bryson books and The Nate Berkus Show. Nate hosts a show about making our lives better and he draws much of his inspiration from his career as an interior designer. He has the philosophy that our homes are a reflection of who we are, what we value, and how we regard the future. Because I’m not particularly gifted in the spacial orientation arena, nor really in the interior design arena, I’ve been using Nate’s show and website for ideas and interior design confidence as I redesign my own small space. (Pictures and an update on the redesign to follow in a later post.)
I’ve put a bit of urgency on this redesign because of my New Year’s Resolution to spend more time working out of my home. (There will also be more details about this in my January 1st post.) Soon, my home will have to be more than a refuge – it will need to be a highly functional, productive refuge that doesn’t lose its sense of peace. Actually, it will need to heighten its sense of peace because in 2012 I will be busier than I’ve ever been which means I’ll need to have a home that really lets me get away from it all when I need to recharge. And did I mention my home weighs in at slightly under 400 square feet? How’s that for a design challenge, Nate?
So what the heck does any of this have to do with Bill Bryson? Over the holidays I learned a lot about the history of homes and private space from Bill. After giving us the giggles and sharing his deep wisdom as he recounts a life as an expat, a journey along the Appalachian Trail, and the history of a small subject called the Universe, he has turned his literary attention to the home. He swears his latest book, At Home: A Short History of Private Life, was written out of a desire to be thoroughly comfortable and write an entire book without taking off his carpet slippers. What he found is that homes are incredibly complex, as complex as the people who inhabit them.
We too often take our shelter, and its history, for granted. This is especially true in New York City where many of the apartments are a century old or close to it. The apartment I live in now was built in 1926 by Emery Roth, the renowned architect and father of art deco. The architect was actually mentioned by the buildings manager as a feature of the building. I became slightly obsessed with the story of his life, of which very little is written or even known. His plans for the building and a personal journal of sorts are in the archives at Columbia University. Thanks to the generosity of a kind librarian, I went to see them and discovered that my building, by a sheer stroke of synchronicity, was the first fire-proof building in New York City. And my particular apartment was the maid’s quarters. Lots of history in that tiny space, and good inspiration for a writer.
I took the apartment right after my previous apartment building caught fire and was declared uninhabitable due to the smoke and fire damage. Inside the walls of that tiny space, I found out who I really was and what I’m really made of. I founded Compass Yoga there, right on my couch, and got serious about my writing. I learned how to really stand up for myself and for others who needed someone to stand up for them. This Fall, I almost moved, thinking I needed more space for the price I’m paying in monthly rent. I did a little look around and found out I have a pretty darn good deal so I stayed and decided to redecorate. Rather than move, I vowed to make the design of my tiny space more efficient, and beautiful.
How we treat the space we live has an awful lot to do with how we treat ourselves and how we treat others. In this redecorating process, I’m learning how much our space reflects who we are, who we’d like to be, and ultimately who we’ll become. Personal transformation doesn’t always require a life altering event like a building fire (though I will certainly admit that trauma speeds personal transformation along.)
Most transformation happens bit by bit, drop by drop, in those quiet moments at home when we wind down from our days and reflect on what we’ve learned. A space that makes room for such an important process deserves care, concern, and good design. After all, it’s going to house our history, too.
Christa Avampato 