Last fall, Carson went to a conference and left me alone. I got a lot done that weekend, making crafts, preparing dinners for the next week and cleaning my house.
I also did a lot of decorating. Not a LOT, but I definitely hung things on the walls. I really don't like bare walls. They don't feel homey to me. I don't even notice them in other people's homes, but they drive me nuts in mine. That's why my house probably looks to you like a lot of chaos - there's stuff on the walls in every room.
Anyway, at that time, we still didn't have a couch in our living room, so it was basically an empty space with boxes of decorative pillows and a sad rocking chair. There are windows, the entryway, a fireplace and doorways into other rooms on all the other walls, but there's one long wall with nothing on it. Poor lonely little room.
So at approximately midnight one of the nights he was gone, I gathered a bunch of pictures and stuck them on the wall, so they filled it up.
It was meant to fill a space and be a temporary part of our wall.
But although I loved the happy reminders of friends and family, I didn't like that pictures fell off, or that it made the room look messy, or that it was basically my face a million different times (Carson doesn't take as many pictures as I do... shocking, I know).
So one day, I decided I'd had enough.
I'm not sure what exactly motivated me, but my plans for a nap after work went out the window and I gathered spare frames and laid them out on the floor to make an arrangement. That proved a bit difficult, so I hung one of the canvases on the wall, then arranged the others around it and kept hanging until I liked it.
It's imperfect and off-centered and I didn't have the time to do a really good job so there's a little blue poster putty hanging out in between the frames, but I love it.
And that's that. Except later on, I bought some spray paint to make the frames all black.