“Nothing’s beautiful from every point of view”~Horace
When I look on the internet at children’s clothing or toy websites I see these beautiful minimalist homes with blonde children frolicking in white clothing. Not a smudge of vegemite to be seen.
Toys are stored in uniform boxes, beds are perfectly made with a couple of tasteful stuffed toys artfully placed on pillows. Rooms are filled with light and there is not a half broken crappy plastic toy to be seen.
When I was eagerly awaiting the arrival of my first child I thought that I could create a similar kind of etheral child nest. My child would be dressed in Pure Baby organic clothing and his room full of artful swedish furniture. And for about 8 months that is kind of what it was like. Slowly the nursery and the rest of my house started to look like an episode of Hoarders and my dedication to the fantasy waned. By the time child #2 was on the scene I had pretty much given up on this idea and embraced the chaos. It’s not like I didn’t try to minimise, the problem was the little people who became emotionally attached to everything. Even a saggy balloon on a piece of string.
When you break down the mayhem into individual scenes, it is kind of endearing. Some of it even looks like post-modernist art.
That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway, when I find a matchbox car using the terrarium as a 4WD exercise, a dinosaur assaulting my guitar, trip over a pair of gumboots strewn across the floor (any floor, every floor, but never in the wardrobe), find that all of the cut up fruit has one bite taken out of it or when the pine cone collecting standards drop to picking up half rotted, smashed up cones that simply MUST go on display for ever and a day.
My home is a shrine to my two little post-modernist installation artists.