It didn’t take us long to get settled back into our new-old house.

Except in one area.


I think it was a combination of factors – we hadn’t hung much art before the fire (we’d only owned the house a month), so it’s not like each piece had a home. Second, we had brand-new drywall in most of the house, and I’m terrified of putting holes in it. Third, it was hard to find the time to do it right and not make mistakes (see Reason #2).  Fourth, our art “collection” is a mish-mash hodge-podge of things that were bought for other houses/color schemes/times in our lives. I want to really enjoy everything that hangs on my walls, which – it turns out – is a tall order.

But we couldn’t have bare walls forever. So one Saturday we brought in All The Art and took a look at it.

It’s not all hung, not by any stretch, but we’re definitely making progress.

The first piece I hung was my Fat Chef, a print I bought in New Orleans and which inspires me in the kitchen.

Yes, I realize that’s not hung. He was later actually affixed to the wall.  

Another piece I hung was a selection of vintage postcards from my hometown:

I bought these when I graduated from college, and at some point stuck them in a cheap frame. I can’t decide if I want to do something with the mats, or just re-frame them and use these for something else. Decisions.

And when I’m done with the big wall pieces, I can re-evaluate all my 8×10-and-smaller frames and photos. Suuuuper.

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