The marathon painting session left me rather delirious. Each coat of burnt orange applied to the chocolate wall seemed to simply melt into it. So began the test of wills. I would defeat this wall! Conquer it completely. It would become my firewall.
The colour, when first applied, appeared to be pumpkin.
Fear ran through me. What if I’d made a mistake with my choice of colour? What if, upon completion, it looked so horrible that I ran screaming from the room tearing the newly grown hair from my head?
I smiled at the dramatic scenario’s I was entertaining as I pondered all the written works that would be produced from my orange room.
I like tasks such as painting a room. For me there is always a reason for the transformation and the colour of choice that reaches out to me. I also like that it’s my energy that is going into the transformation.
Mind you some seven hours to paint one room had the imagination becoming quite derelict. I stopped for yet another bathroom break near the end of this lunacy. Food had been consumed sporadically. Yogurt, apple, grapes, crackers….
Just the basic sustenance.
A great deal of water had been consumed. On this hot summer day the temperature rose to about 30 degree Celsius. Luckily, I face north and have the benefit of my secret garden that provides major cooling to my unit. Still, the sight that greeted me in the bathroom mirror made me chuckle.
I was a complete puddle covered in fifty shades of orange. It was on my face, in my hair, paint was everywhere.
And oh, the decadent thoughts that sprang to mind that would in fact parody the unmentionable ‘grey’ version of said title.
This is not an X-rated blog though. So I will keep it clean.
Still, the thought that sprang to mind was of our heroine showing up not to interview the mysterious Mr. Grey but paint his rooms….orange.
“What shade of orange do you prefer, Mr. Grey?” she asks him provocatively.
He smiles seductively at her. “I like it burnt, baby. I like it so hot, it scorches.”
She pulls out a swatch or two and slaps them dramatically on the wall. (This action was of course dictated by her inner Goddess).
“Are these hot enough for you, Mr. Grey?” she inquires enticingly.
He zeros in on a shade…it’s called Cinnamon Spice.
“I used to know a stripper by that name.” he reminisces fondly. “Come, I’ll show you the room to be painted.”
Our heroine follows him down the hall and he leads her into a chamber designed for sexual play.
Glancing about she takes note of the additional work it will require to remove all the pullies, chains and the like from the walls
“I’ll have to charge you double, if not more, Mr. Grey.” she advises him.
“I’m a rich man. I’ll draw up the contract and do take as much time as you need.” he assures her.
They smile at one another.
Yes, I made the mistake a couple of years ago in reading this book. It became quite a contentious issue with my writing group. We would find ourselves yelling at each other over how poorly it was written. why we yelled at each other, we don’t know. Finally we banished it from all future conversations.
If we did refer to it at all, it was ‘the book that we were not supposed to talk about’.
So this is the first bit of written work produced from the orange room. I am having giggle or two.
Interestingly enough I found a pamphlet tucked away yesterday regarding colour energy.
Orange is the spleen chakra that connects us to our emotional self. It inspires happiness, confidence and resourcefulness. The energy infused brings joy to the work day and strengthens our appreciation for life. The colour orange also helps us remove our inhibitions.
All parody and playfulness aside, I love the result.
Equine publishing in it’s infancy
As I look around this room now I am envisioning some of the photographs that I’ve taken that I plan to mount. I’ve a few visuals I still need to find but this is now the home of Equine Publishing.
The dream is transforming into life. Stay tuned.