The Color Green
I decided to redecorate my bedroom to reflect the new stage of my life. I had entered the hellish black hole described to me by professors as "the real world." Legend states that it is awful, but a fate we must all accept.
I repainted the walls to reflect a more mature adult-like status. My former room was hot pink. The color I chose for my new room; Spanish Olive.
I wanted small reminders of that heroic tale to surround me each day. Therefore, I wanted to bring in certain design aspects that would reflect the sunbleached and lazy characteristics that go with Joshua Tree, California- or at least the way I envision it.
Even though Joshua Tree functions as my main inspiration, I wasn't limiting myself to artwork from that location. These two photos are actually from Arizona, but they embody the type of beauty I want to bring into my room. There is something inside me that lights up every time I see images of desert landscapes, as if I have some type of personal connection to the view. Unfortunately, I don't have any connection to this environment, other than a deep appreciation.
I have visited places with similar aesthetic principles. Two places I've visited that closely relate to my chosen theme are San Diego and Texas. Yes, one is a city and the other is a (massive) state, but I'd be crazy to start categorizing the most beautiful parts of Texas. Honestly, I have only seen a small fraction of Texas, and I know better than to claim I can pinpoint the most beautiful section. When it comes to San Diego, I can't help but feel an attachment to the beaches (La Jolla, Del Mar, Coranado). It almost seems impossible to survive in such intense heat, but yet you still find yourself racing down the beach with a kite, perfectly content if heat stroke on La Jolla is the way you go. I didn't appreciate San Diego for it's beautifully scorched terrain until I went to a small water park on the border of Mexico. That park truly existed in the middle of nowhere. It was as if you were driving through the desert, searching for signs of life, and then you randomly come upon a full functioning water park. It was perfectly dreamy.
I often think back to that water park and remember the feeling of total isolation. There were only a handful of rides at the park, but there was one ride that towered over everything like a watchtower. You had to climb up endless flights of winding stairs to reach the top. I will never forget the way my knees would shake and my lips would go numb each time I reached the top. It was a struggle to remain still because part of you needed to hold onto a railing for security, but the other part of you wanted to be as far away from the railings as possible. Looking out into the surrounding land, I imagined the water park as a mirage for some poor soul lost in the desert. I imagined the loneliness that comes with looking to the horizon and feeling like you're staring into infinity. The thoughts terrified me and intrigued me.
To Be Continued in Part 2
I repainted the walls to reflect a more mature adult-like status. My former room was hot pink. The color I chose for my new room; Spanish Olive.
I will admit the inspiration for my wall color selection came from an episode of Gossip Girl. The main character, Blair Waldorf, reveals her newly renovated office space where she will run her fashion empire and the moment had me drooling. The walls her covered in the most gorgeous antique wallpaper with an emerald green print. As you can probably tell, my Spanish Olive is not where close to the same color used in Blair's office- but the episode had undoubtedly given me a newfound appreciation for the color green.
Some more pointed inspiration for my room came from a book, The Glass Castle. In this memoir by Jeanette Walls, she describes a time in her childhood where her family briefly settled in a place called Joshua Tree, California. Walls suffered from a very traumatic childhood which she was neglected, mistreated, and malnourished. As a small child, she is disgusted by the Joshua Tree outside of her home. Her mother, Rose Mary, offers an alternative thought to Jeanette,
"It's the Joshua tree's struggle that gives it its beauty."The landscape of Joshua Tree, California is so remarkably painted by Jeanette, despite her resentment for the tree. I found myself drawn to many of the dry, colorless features that Jeanette hated. In soon became clear that the tree was an important layer to the book, as it symbolized strength that perseveres through hardships. The rough, unforgiving, dry climate gave no favors to the Joshua tree as it struggled to survive. Nonetheless, the tree continues to fight and eventually establishes itself in the lifeless landscape. The display is not aesthetically pleasing, but it is emotionally healing. To witness proof that life goes on after trauma is a beautiful thing, even if the tree's exterior is not.
I wanted small reminders of that heroic tale to surround me each day. Therefore, I wanted to bring in certain design aspects that would reflect the sunbleached and lazy characteristics that go with Joshua Tree, California- or at least the way I envision it.
Even though Joshua Tree functions as my main inspiration, I wasn't limiting myself to artwork from that location. These two photos are actually from Arizona, but they embody the type of beauty I want to bring into my room. There is something inside me that lights up every time I see images of desert landscapes, as if I have some type of personal connection to the view. Unfortunately, I don't have any connection to this environment, other than a deep appreciation.
I have visited places with similar aesthetic principles. Two places I've visited that closely relate to my chosen theme are San Diego and Texas. Yes, one is a city and the other is a (massive) state, but I'd be crazy to start categorizing the most beautiful parts of Texas. Honestly, I have only seen a small fraction of Texas, and I know better than to claim I can pinpoint the most beautiful section. When it comes to San Diego, I can't help but feel an attachment to the beaches (La Jolla, Del Mar, Coranado). It almost seems impossible to survive in such intense heat, but yet you still find yourself racing down the beach with a kite, perfectly content if heat stroke on La Jolla is the way you go. I didn't appreciate San Diego for it's beautifully scorched terrain until I went to a small water park on the border of Mexico. That park truly existed in the middle of nowhere. It was as if you were driving through the desert, searching for signs of life, and then you randomly come upon a full functioning water park. It was perfectly dreamy.
I often think back to that water park and remember the feeling of total isolation. There were only a handful of rides at the park, but there was one ride that towered over everything like a watchtower. You had to climb up endless flights of winding stairs to reach the top. I will never forget the way my knees would shake and my lips would go numb each time I reached the top. It was a struggle to remain still because part of you needed to hold onto a railing for security, but the other part of you wanted to be as far away from the railings as possible. Looking out into the surrounding land, I imagined the water park as a mirage for some poor soul lost in the desert. I imagined the loneliness that comes with looking to the horizon and feeling like you're staring into infinity. The thoughts terrified me and intrigued me.
To Be Continued in Part 2
