When I moved back to Chicago after grad school, Pete and I specifically sought out a two-bedroom apartment in our neighborhood of choice, West Town. We were lucky to find our ground-floor unit with exposed brick walls, and best of all, an extra bedroom at the front of the apartment that catches a perfect afternoon sun. This room, quickly designated the “art room,” has always housed Pete’s upright and electric basses and my sewing/crafting materials. But over the last year, it came, too, to house everything else we couldn’t find a place for. “Put it in the front room” became a mantra around here, a solution for our unwieldy supply of stuff.
The room became unusable, resembling a storage unit more than any sort of studio. So come Spring, we set out on a major overhaul. I won’t show the results yet, but I think some photos of the “before” (as embarrassed as I am to show them) are worth noting:
Fabric in disarray
The whole mess
Now, as I embark on a teaching job at a new university, I’m glad we took the time to get the room in order. As I was preparing syllabi tonight in my newly appointed writing corner, Pete came home from work and settled into some bow-work exercises on his upright bass, and these last notes of summer rang through the room.