There weren’t photos hanging in the house I grew up in. Not really. Only when I was in high school, Dad bought 3 collage frames from Walmart and had me fill them with snapshots from the one box of photos we owned; the one that contained all images from my birth to that day. I remember that I made each frame themed for each kid in the family. I honestly cannot recall where in our house they hung, but these are the only photos I ever remember seeing displayed. It wasn’t that it was art or something else that hung in their place. Let’s just say the family funds were spent in other ways than decorating our humble home.
I don’t recall more than a few photos in my paternal grandmother’s home, either. Their home was indeed decorated, but it wasn’t with any photos. They did put the tiny wallets of our yearly school photos around their bedroom mirror. They still do - and it now includes my children's wallets.
But there was the hallway in my maternal grandmother’s house. It was a hidden back hallway - one that a regular guest would likely never see. But we saw it – us kids. A long wall full of framed photos. As we grew, and as the number of grandchildren grew, the number of frames on that wall grew. She didn’t replace or rearrange. She merely added to.
I remember walking down that hallway when we visited, often as the years went by, and simply lingering. Looking into the eyes of my mother and my two aunts, as young women. Before they ‘grew up’. Before the toils of adulthood had wearied their souls. How different they were now. Wondering what they were like then. What all had happened to change things so. I also remember how special it made me feel that my grandma wanted to display a picture of me on her walls. I can only surmise that it was this photo wall that sparked the initial fire of grand photo display in my heart.
I’ve had my own home for ten years now, and I do not display pieces of art. I don’t do knick-knacks (it simply isn't my style, but probably more so, I just don't dust). My walls are adorned with images of my immediate family. And seeing those images, day by day by day, makes my heart so very, very happy. (I don’t have anything against art. Knick-Knacks I cannot stand. But my lack of art is more a result of lack of wall space and lack of funds, than distaste for art on the wall.) Some may view my home as poorly decorated. I’m sure Martha Stewart would scowl in disapproval. Some may think I’ve overdone it a tad. I’m sure my home would never grace the pages of some fancy schmancy magazine or be featured on HGTV. But the décor of my home brings me joy, and that’s really the point of the décor, is it not?
When Wendy from Wendy VonSosen Photography asked if I'd like to participate in a feature project for her blog about photo display in the home, I couldn't not participate. I've meant to do this forever - to document my two huge feature walls that always seem to induce comments by my guests. Today, my guest post is live. Too read the rest of the story, go here. : )
And if my dining room walls still have that yellow and blue rooster toile next January... well I'll have to think of something. Because that's just not going to be okay!
I don’t recall more than a few photos in my paternal grandmother’s home, either. Their home was indeed decorated, but it wasn’t with any photos. They did put the tiny wallets of our yearly school photos around their bedroom mirror. They still do - and it now includes my children's wallets.
But there was the hallway in my maternal grandmother’s house. It was a hidden back hallway - one that a regular guest would likely never see. But we saw it – us kids. A long wall full of framed photos. As we grew, and as the number of grandchildren grew, the number of frames on that wall grew. She didn’t replace or rearrange. She merely added to.
I remember walking down that hallway when we visited, often as the years went by, and simply lingering. Looking into the eyes of my mother and my two aunts, as young women. Before they ‘grew up’. Before the toils of adulthood had wearied their souls. How different they were now. Wondering what they were like then. What all had happened to change things so. I also remember how special it made me feel that my grandma wanted to display a picture of me on her walls. I can only surmise that it was this photo wall that sparked the initial fire of grand photo display in my heart.
I’ve had my own home for ten years now, and I do not display pieces of art. I don’t do knick-knacks (it simply isn't my style, but probably more so, I just don't dust). My walls are adorned with images of my immediate family. And seeing those images, day by day by day, makes my heart so very, very happy. (I don’t have anything against art. Knick-Knacks I cannot stand. But my lack of art is more a result of lack of wall space and lack of funds, than distaste for art on the wall.) Some may view my home as poorly decorated. I’m sure Martha Stewart would scowl in disapproval. Some may think I’ve overdone it a tad. I’m sure my home would never grace the pages of some fancy schmancy magazine or be featured on HGTV. But the décor of my home brings me joy, and that’s really the point of the décor, is it not?
When Wendy from Wendy VonSosen Photography asked if I'd like to participate in a feature project for her blog about photo display in the home, I couldn't not participate. I've meant to do this forever - to document my two huge feature walls that always seem to induce comments by my guests. Today, my guest post is live. Too read the rest of the story, go here. : )
And if my dining room walls still have that yellow and blue rooster toile next January... well I'll have to think of something. Because that's just not going to be okay!