Our House at the end of our Street (II)

These still photographs were taken during the making of the film, Parting Ways, directed by Peter Mullett. Our front room was used for one particular scene. View the clip here...

Breaking Point

I am truly at the end of my tether. Here's why:

1. Ever been forced into a home project that becomes more mammoth by the minute (and literally bankrupts in the interim)?
2. If aesthetics are involved, then mortgaging one's own privates is worth it. But when 'The City' mandates the removal of paint from exterior brick, with the blanket rule of "all paint or no paint" (so draconian!) then I get hostile.
3. I am all for removing peeling paint, but not at the expense of the conservation of the brick. Preservation is my chief concern. ALWAYS. In fact, the brick actually has a lovely veneer. However, some of the pesky paint would not budge (baked into the brick), so it was suggested that we power-wash/sandblast the brick.
4. Me: totally anti... really concerned about the aggressive nature of those alternatives.
5. I was right (what's new?). One blast of the power-washer, and the 1865 mortar began to erode and eject in huge chunks.
6. Stroke was imminent. Stress and anxiety is not my strong point. Yelling at full volume, I almost got run over (standing in the middle of the street) and halted the mission immediately. There is only one way to remove the paint from this gargantuan elevation — by hand!
7. If 'The City' has a problem with the small fraction of brick with paint adhered to it, would they prefer it if I removed those delinquent culprit-bricks from the side of the house? Are large gaps preferable? Or perhaps demolish that entire section?

Whatever pleases thee, me lords...

GRRRRRRRR...

Perilous

Some of the crew

Note 80 foot cherry picker to the left and man on fire escape

the invasive nature of power washing

paint flecks flew everywhere and stuck... practically impossible to remove

Photographs by: Philippa Berrington-Blew

Peep Show: the Sequel (and Prequel)

(A quick synopsis of our bedroom renovation)

1865: Wallpaper merchant builds house.

1940-2000: Rooming house. Whorehouse. Flophouse. Meat-rack (nice!).

2005: Hapless, clueless South African couple purchase said property.

Week Two: Second floor tenant calls up landlady (AKA me). “So sorry to worry you, but the ceiling just fell in.”

Week Two and one day: Thankfully, no injuries or permanent concussion. Dodged ‘the-ceiling-just-fell-in’ bullet. Patch. Skim-coat. Repeat.

Day 68: Take occupancy of 2nd floor. Boiler takes final bow. Carbon monoxide escapes from every orifice. 4-yr old and I spend 9 hours in emergency room. House appears to be furious and is clearly trying to murder us (attempt #1).

Day 69: Bedroom steam-damaged walls remain pockmarked and decaying for 5 years. Inhale at own peril.

Month 10: Convince myself the room is Shabby Chic.

5 years later: Shabby Chic becomes intolerable (picture Grey Gardens).

2011: Sudden realization that original vision of creating an embellished Parisian-apartment look-a-like will obliterate budget.

2011 and then some: Slight change of scope. When prepping one wall, we discover original wallpaper in sepia tones – far from pristine but gorgeous. Room demands small semblance of decay for old time’s sake (see Palimpsest).

2011 and then some more: Inhale paint fumes all night. So worth it…

Detail of science project growing up the wall

Details and collection of French steel-cut shoe buckles

Looks nicer in this photograph than in reality

The previous, rather boring 'apartment cream' color on the walls

Detail of the mantel

Detail of 'what lay beneath'

David (painter) and I after the initial 'recapturing' of wallpaper (also, if you look at the light bulb in the reflection of the mirror, you can see the ceiling damage)

Warm grey for remainder of walls

Benjamin Moore Soot for bed backdrop

Photographs by Philippa Berrington-Blew and Craig Strydom

Photo of desk by Virginia Jarvis - Apartment Therapy