A year ago, a close friend said to me, “Yes. I know about the blue and you.” I retorted with a general, “What are you talking about?” or “What do you mean?” She said, “I read the blog.”
Yes. It’s somewhat true about me and “the blue”. But lately I have been struggling with the desire to actually paint our bedoom a deep, rich blue. Not chalky or grey. Blue. Deep blue.
I attended a show at The Nelson-Atkins museum a few months ago, and the rooms were painted a rich, deep blue with hints of green in it. It inspired me so much that I actually called the offices and asked for the number/maker of said hue. I have since misplaced it because I realized it really wasn’t for me.
My husband isn’t crazy about this idea. He’s challenged me with the knowledge that our bedroom isn’t that large. He’s troubled me with the realization that blue walls are one thing, but what about the large amount of trim that is inherent in our 100-year-old home? And, most importantly, he wonders if I have thought about what our art will look like on blue, since it has always resided on white. He isn’t against the idea; he just seems to feel it’s important to needle me with details that clearly need to be considered before diving in.
The last and most imporant decision that must be considered is that we commissioned an outstanding local artist – my sister Casey – to paint our bedroom windows so that we would never need curtains again. These windows are the one detail I have yet to work around. I would never want to take away from their amazing strength by painting the walls a powerful – yet soothing – hue.
These are my issues with blue right now. Previous musings can be found here and here.
p.s. The top three image are from the website of Anthony Barratta. I have mentioned on my blog before that I adore his work and the work of his retired partner, William Diamond. When my ship comes in, his phone will ring.
The bottom photo is of our bedroom windows. They are stunning at night as well.
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