Hanging Art into Plaster Walls is Hell

(My niece and my daughter at The Louve in France.)

Okay, so I was all ramped up yesterday to finally begin hanging our artwork up after two months of living in our new (1898) home.

     We have a mixture of my watercolors, my daughter’s acrylic paintings and charcoal work, along with the many pieces I acquired from my parent’s upon taking apart their lives after their deaths.

      Are there boxes to still unpack at my house? Maybe. (Okay, there are) I just felt unmoored without art around me. I ordered and received the special hooks for plaster walls, and a hammer I was pretty sure I could swing and the desire to pretty the place up.

     Swing number one. Holy hell, plaster is hard!! This is not drywall people, this is the stuff they make casts from to hold people’s broken bones in place. Let me tell you, that one swing let me know, that I was in for some “Am I capable of this?” moments.

      This is a question I have been asking myself  frequently over many and varied tasks/incidents/moments for the past two months.

     Now, just so you don’t think I’ve been living in “sterile world,” I have placed many cherished items around the house, on shelves, in cabinets and have loved doing so. One item in particular, a wooden nutcracker from (what was then) West Germany, formed into a Chimney Sweep (which represents “good luck”) has this constant grimaced look on his face.

     It occurs to me, that I may have looked a lot like him these past two months, save for the stovepipe hat, black beard and requisite ladder under his arm. (I have limited my climbing to a two-step boost ladder).

      Okay Mr. Chimney Sweep, I get it! I can unclench my teeth and accept the fact that I willingly chose this life where I will hang my own artwork into a material meant to never have holes pounded into it. And still, I will pound. I will get this artwork up, damnit!

     Something stinks in one of the bedrooms. Today, my task is to figure out the source, and eliminate it. This is the life I have willingly chosen.

      I truly love turning into our neighborhood, driving up our street and gazing upon our home, each time saying to myself, “Oh my god, I live in this gorgeous, old house.”

     I have been staring at old houses on Circaoldhouses.com for years. Desiring, imagining, dreaming, crying, wishing, giving up, that I would ever live in one again in my lifetime.

     It is a rental, so do I worry that the owners will suddenly decide to move back? Hell, yeah! What will I do after this rental? Why do I have to have spiraling anxiety about every damn thing in my life?????

     Back to the plaster walls. I have committed to putting up 1-2 pieces a day until there are none left. Okay, maybe that’s too much. What about 1-2 a week? That feels a little more comfortable and doable considering I work full time, I’m about to launch my debut book so I have to work in two book signing events, a podcast, an Zoom interview with a magazine and another podcast where the host is in Australia!

     It is way cool, that my little book, that young girl (me) of 12 on the cusp of turning 13, and her story of the three years overseas with her family, has made it to Australia.

     Is this going to help me hammer in the artwork? Perhaps. When I am pumped up with excitement, I am stronger. Is it going to help me find the source of the smell? No. That is just grunt work that has to be done. I can’t stand “stink.”

     I used to walk into my former domicile, and so many days would be hit with a horrible odor, my companion happily ensconced on couch. Me: “What’s that awful smell?” Him: “Oh, it’s the garbage, but the longer I sat here, I stopped smelling it.”

Great. I would immediately take care of the garbage, garbage can and then start dinner.

     Those days are over. Is there anything you find daunting? Tell me about it, won’t you please? Don’t feel sorry for me, whatever you do, as I love this life, I am just challenged as hell by it. Ha/ha

     Thank you for reading my piece today. Oh, if you want to give me a tip about hammering into plaster, I’ll take it. Remember if you would please, to hit the heart to show that you’ve at least opened my piece today. I do so appreciate your individual and collective readerly support.