Friday, June 30, 2006
The kitchen table...the epicenter of our homes. The place where we talk, ponder, write, think,read,wonder, draw, create, laugh, tell, yell, whisper, giggle, kiss, hug, cry, remember.....and yes, eat. I acquire old kitchen tables. They seem to follow me home. There they become sewing tables, craft areas, coffee tables, potting benches, and all around catch-all tables. The irony is that I have no kitchen table in my kitchen. Instead I have the modern interpretation...a melamine covered hunk in the middle of the floor. It can't be dragged closer to the window for a better view of the garden or moved against the wall to make an impromptu dance floor. It holds no secrets...no junk drawer full of forgotten objects. No child can wriggle underneath and make a fort, or write their name upside down. And so I make do with my collection of cast-offs. Some from tag sales and thrift stores. Some rescued from the side of the road. All evoke a memory of sitting around the kitchen table cluttered by fabulous kitsch....salt and pepper shakers, depression glass, funky planters, loud linens, truly tacky cookbooks, homemade treasures...and feeling fabulously at home among it all. So, c'mon. Pull up a funky chair to my kitschen table, choose a cup (how about cobalt Moderntone or do you prefer gray Russell Wright today?) pour yourself a cup of coffee and let's have ourselves a well deserved chat.