Lineanongrata

five minute kitchen makeover (washi tape frenzy)

Spring is a bit grey around here at the moment, although some rain is probably a good thing for all the growing green things out there.

But although I'm green at heart, I'm not green on the outside and I stopped growing when I was in my early twenties. Or maybe when I was around fifteen. I can't remember the day.

And although I still appreciate a good splashing leap into a puddle, I prefer to do it in sunshine. And maybe clad in a bathing suit, now that I think about it. Possibly barefoot, too. And if maybe my little sister could stand right beside that puddle and get splashed, that would make it about perfect.

As sunshine isn't forthcoming at the moment, I made my own. Or at least something equivalent that makes me smile every time I look at it.

Have you heard of Washi tape? It's sticky, beautiful, exists in a variety of colors and patterns, comes off the wallpaper without leaving any trace... it's like sunshine for your home.

There are many many things you can do with Washi tape. For more inspiration have a look at the hostessblog or greenteadesign.

If you feel you need some of that tape, too, you might want to have a look here and here.

There are a number of online shops that sell Washi tape. Cutetape is one example, happytape another, but there are tons of other ones, too.

Happy decorating everybody!

the different forms of happiness

It has been a year now that I'm home, and I can see, looking back on this blog's poor history, that it has been a blog-it-easy year for Lineanongrata. I must thank you all for sticking with me. It's a constant pleasure for me, to be able to connect to so many people.

Over the last couple of years, as my life kept changing, I have defined this space very differently at times. It sure is a lot easier to tell a funny story when you basically live with four big burly men who secretly fill each other's backpacks with chestnuts or tape mousetraps on each others cars doorhandles.

It sure was easier to take beautiful photos in the South of France, where there was always sun and light.

This has been a year of many changes for me. I have tried to tell a fancy little story or have an illustration ready for each post I presented here. But it's not working really well, is it? So I'd like to take this space in another direction again, at least partially. I would very much like to show you where I live now, in photos as well as in illustrations, and I would like to share the small things that make my day and eventually my weeks.

It's probably going to be like notes instead of stories. But it should give me the chance to be here more often.

The 'Food for thought' project is taking place more than ever, recipes have started to arrive (and I still owe so many of you a heartfelt thanks for that) and there has been a very important addition to the project, too.

But for tonight, I'd like to share just a few photos of the space and the things I have created around me here in Berlin so far. Making a space a home is more work than I thought.

But as more and more things fall into place, curtains get made, spaces are being defined and routines are being found, I am so very very happy.

Sometimes I pause during my day, look around and see all the things that I have, and the things I can make or draw, and I'm so grateful.

When I walk the streets of Berlin, and be they oh-so-grizzly grey and rainy, I am happy to be here. Sometimes I have to refrain from doing a little two-step in the middle of the subway or on the street somewhere, or in the shopping mall around the corner.

Because I am so happy.

When I run, longer and longer distances, and my body obeys, I am violently, savagely happy to become the athlete I have wanted to be for so long.

But what really makes me giddy with happiness is when I see my friends and part with a 'see you soon', or watch their kids for a night or when I don't see my best friend when I'm at my parent's place, and it doesn't really matter because we'll see each other again, really soon.

cache-misère

'Cache-misère' must be one of my favorite french words. It literally means 'hide-misery' and I probably love it so much because it's a very accurate way to describe how I tidy up things: Put them all into something and then firmly close the door.

If the situation calls for it (too much weight pressing outwards, from inside the doors, for example), barricade said doors.

The downside is that I usually can't find what I'm looking for. On the upside, it's easier to clean when everything is off the floor and shelves.

Also, burglars sneaking in to look for things to steal will immediately conclude that there's nothing there and leave again. No harm done.

In the case of cache-misère shown above, they are handmade from the pattern for CD Holders in this Amy Butler book. The bathroom environment seemed to call for plastified fabric, which makes for rather stable boxes but is a little bit awkward to turn inside-out once you got the lining in place. It actually took quite some strength and even more patience.

Did I ever mention I'm better with strength than with patience? No? Well, here's a tip: Don't use too much strength on this project, or you might rip it apart. A bit. And then you'll have to start all over again.

Well, anyway. Hiding away all the bathroom misery also depends on height. Because if you're tall enough to look down on the boxes, you'll see everything I have hidden in there.

But exaggerated height (like anything above five foot five) has never been one of my problems.

sand-me-downs

(Somebody is being witty here.)

The chairs I have at my new place come from my grandparents. They have the neat advantage of not having cost me a dime, but if one looks at them for a prolonged period of time, one runs the risk of losing ones eyesight. And as much as I loved my mother's parents, I can't keep their chairs in this state just for good old times sake. 

To my dismay, sanding them down is more work than I bargained for, but the change it makes, coupled with a new coat of paint is quite remarkable.

I admit, the chairs are still nowhere near Bauhaus, but they don't bite my rear end each time I sit on one of them, either.