A Clean Sweep

I have friends who claim that they love to clean. They talk about the 'meditative quality' of washing dishes and the 'profound satisfaction' that they gain while thoroughly scouring the inside of their ovens.

I am not one of those people

If it's up to me, I'll take the meditative quality of watching something lowbrow on television, and the profound satisfaction of a large roast dinner. Cleaning, for me, is a necessary evil.

However, it must be done. So, In an attempt to build up my enthusiasm, my solution is to make it as aesthetically pleasing a task as possible. If I need to sweep up rubbish then I'd prefer to do it with a beautiful vintage brush, with a classic maroon/cream colourway. If I have to dust the shelves, then at least I can enjoy the look of my classic ostrich feather duster while I'm doing it.

Now if only I could find a way to make doing my tax return a more beautiful experience...

Getting to the Point

And the collections begat collections...

I was in Paris a few weeks ago, and came across this classic needlepoint picture of a salty sea tar. How do I know that it's a classic? Well, because about five years ago, I bought exactly the same image as a needlepoint cushion in a flea market in New York.

This was a perfect addition to my bearded men collection (remember this?) - or so I thought.

However, the longer I spent in Paris (and then later in Brussels) - the more I noticed exciting examples of needlepoint, and came to realize how fantastic and underutilised they are. The use of colour and texture combined with the graphic quality can look very stylish, without any of the fusty echoes of 'handicrafts'. Best of all, they're so out of fashion, you can pick them up at flea markets for next to nothing.

So - now there's a new collection in town - and I'm aiming to fill a full wall of the studio entrance with needlepoint.

Wish me luck!

Juxtapositionings

I just thought I'd throw in a few detail shots of the set ups in the studio at the moment. Unpacking all my stuff and rearranging it has thrown up some interesting juxtapositions.

So, we have a D-Torso cardboard cat (a gift from my mother - thanks Ma!), on two stacked Ercol coffee tables, next to some vintage knitting magazines found at Norman's stall in Dalston.

A set of 1950's sci-fi classics found on the Suffolk Coast slotted into a 1930's American shop fitting brought over from Chicago.

I particularly like the interesting colour mixes of these - army green and turquoise, violet blue and baby pink - very inspiring!

And finally, a fast growing collection of wooden clamps, a Sussex church pew, a miniature wooden bench and an Art Deco Rug.

Putting it together is like having a giant junk jigsaw which needs a bit of thought before it all fits together nicely. It's a game of mix and match that is going to keep me amused for many years to come.

Setting The Scene

So, one of the fantastic things about having a huge space is that it allows you to indulge every decorating whim at the drop of a hat. But, of course, that can be a dangerous thing too.

Suddenly there are no limits to the amount of objects you can justify purchasing - nothing is too big, too awkward or too eccentric to fit into a space like this - no collection is too quirky or overwhelming. Now I know how Augustus Gloop must have felt when he walked through the doors of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.

It's all good fun until you get sucked into the river of chocolate. Or in my case, shop like there's no tomorrow and end up living in a junk shop. So I'm trying to practice being moderate.

Still - while I try my best - I can't resist playing around with a few areas and creating some little sets just for fun.

Just keep an eye on this blog, and if in a few years time you can no longer see the studio for the weird objects - then leave a comment with the words 'Augustus Gloop' in it, and I'll check into some sort of rehab.

Gymtastic

I don't know about you, but I find the thought of my new studio space ever being a gym quite hard to imagine.

At my school, the gym was housed in a 70s pre- fab box so ugly that it would have made Le Corbusier weep and question his whole raison d'être.

So the idea of hundreds of children doing push ups and star jumps in a Victorian vaulted hall, filled with decorative tiles and classical mouldings seems slightly odd.

However, there are still a few pieces of evidence to prove its former usage.

The floor is marked out with a fully sized badminton court. Always fun for those who like a shuttlecock.

The floors are scattered with metal repositories for nets and other equipment.

Heavy duty hooks on the ceiling, presumably to hang ropes off of. (How I hated climbing up ropes - those rope burns on your thighs after sliding down were pure evil).

And finally, a place to put the school flag. I must admit I am tempted to fly a personalized flag from these. But that's just a hop skip and jump away from having your own coat of arms designed and putting a monogram on every shirt that you own, and I'm not quite at that stage. Yet.

I wonder if my childhood gym was as inspiring as this I would have been more excited about PE class. Probably not, but at least I might be able to cartwheel properly. And this space certainly makes me want to do cartwheels...

True Story

Once upon a time there was a Happy Little Blogger.

The Happy Little Blogger would sit at his computer and write happy little blogs about all the things in the world he liked. Sometimes he wrote about interesting objects, other times he wrote about inspiring places, and once in a while he wrote about ideas that he had.

One day, the Happy Little Blogger wrote a blog post about 'School Style'.

"...it's quite amazing how fascinated I am by educational style" he wrote, "I dream of modelling a room after a 1940's school gym - filled with leather mats, metal lockers and a sculptural wooden pommel-horse as a centrepiece."

Now, it just so happened that the Magical Blog Fairies were surfing the web that day, and came across the Happy Little Blogger's post. "What a happy little blog" they said to one another "Let us make his dream come true".

So, it came to pass that, about two months after he wrote that blog post, the Happy Little Blogger found himself in the gym of an old Victorian school. It was more beautiful and exciting than he could ever have imagined. He gathered all his money together and bought the gym, making him the happiest little blogger that ever there was.

The End.

Actually, that's far from the end of the story, because buying the gym was just the beginning of a massive adventure. The space is incredible - huge and stunning and full of character, but the work and renovations have been so all-consuming, I've been completely unable to blog for the last few months. So I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to the Magical Blog Fairies for the lack of recent attention and thank them very much for granting my wish.

It's not exactly the dark wood and leather space that I had imagined - but soaring vaulted ceilings, amazing daylight and loads of period features more than make up for it. I haven't bought that pommel-horse yet, but give me time...

Built in 1906 in East London, it's part of a classic Victorian red brick school. Originally used as a gym and assembly hall, it has functioned as an artist's studio for the past 40 years. Now I am lucky enough to be the latest occupant.

I'll be blogging the progress that I make, and sharing some of the wonders of living and working in such a special building.

Watch this space...