Routines

I am most certainly not the disciplined type. I can stick with something for weeks at a time without flagging, but get me to break the flow and getting started again is really hard. I lose interest really quickly. Consequently, when I get to the end of one task I spend quite a lot of time walking around in circles trying to figure out what to do next. This has not proved to be a particularly helpful way of managing a renovation.

I also wondered whether, if I were to break up some of the really gruesome tasks into smaller chunks, they would get done less painfully. Well anything is worth a try I figure. With this noble plan in mind I sat down yesterday and mapped out a very detailed breakup of time and tasks and made myself a google calender for the foreseeable future. Most daringly, I set this up for each day to commence at 6.30am and finish at 10.30pm.

Morning is not my natural functioning period. However I need to try and pick up some more work to help fund this reno project and a good way to do that is substitute teaching. The days tend to be heavy but they pay well. Worst thing about them however is that you really need to be available for the 7 am phone call. I figure if I get into the habit of getting up that early and getting ready for the day I will be ready for whatever comes, whether it be heading out to work or getting more done on the reno. The calender allows for both possibilities and is very flexible. A disciplined approach to life is not something I am accustomed to but it just may work. (Others swear by it.)

There was an unscheduled nap that slipped in today. But after all it is only the first day and it may take some time to get into the groove.

A womb, not a tomb.

Been thinking a bit about the idea of liminal space for the last few days. It seems that one spends a great deal of time during renovations in this difficult space. It is difficult because we are not socially conditioned to deal with in-between spaces. Yet we spend a great deal of time in them. I guess I am not the only one who wishes I had Samantha's gift and could simply wiggle my nose and go from one space to the next without spending the time in the transition when nothing actually appears to be happening.

However, I was reading some more of my Rohr, and realise that these times of transition are actually really important because this is actually when the bulk of the work is being done. It doesn't look like it. It just looks like a mess. Stripper and paint tins everywhere, ladders to get to hard to reach places, drop cloths to try and contain the mess, bits and pieces everywhere without any clear indications of how it is going to look in the end. Yet if we think about it, we would lose a great deal if we were able to skip this step.

One of the things we would lose, and I hadn't thought of it before, would be the chance to grieve over what we are saying goodbye to. Now most of us renovate because we want things to be better and that is fair, but we are still changing the place where we live. The place where hopefully we feel safe and secure. And as yet we are unsure of what the new space is going to feel like. So it is important to be able to take time to say goodbye to the familiar because it has shaped the place up until now. Time to farewell the cramped rooms that housed our precious infants as newborns, the laundry that always appeared to be groaning under the weight of endless loads of family washing, that often became a soggy mess when the tubs overflowed. To remember what has gone before and why it is we are going through the renovation process. And to look forward with excitement to our new and improved space.

The other major loss would be a deep understanding and appreciation of the new space. Much like the house in Brisbane I mentioned in an earlier post, we would have no sense of the character of the place, how it had got to where it was. There would be no appreciation of the finer trimmings and the little bits that we do which make the renovation personal and the final outcome intimately ours. When I look at my beautiful lime-washed mantelpiece I want to remember the layers and layers and layers......of varnishes and paints and mess that I had to remove to find the lovely wood underneath. Otherwise I may be foolish enough to let someone paint it again. I want to grow into this new abode, slowly and incrementally so that I can fully appreciate just how much I belong in it.

So while I may often think that I am going to be stuck in this chaotic state for the rest of my natural life and that it will become a tomb of my own making, this is not true. Liminal spaces are essential and temporary. So rather than a tomb I am going to try and think of it as a womb. A nurturing and growing place that I can inhabit until the new state that the architect envisioned is finally realised.

the dilemma of the inevitable,

I am not sure whether everyone who undertakes major renovations inevitably reaches a point where they realise that they simply can not go any further without help. However, I imagine it happens to most. The reason for this is fairly simple I think and has to do with that pernicious aspect in all of us created by ego. We think we have it all planned out and that we know what we have gotten ourselves into. And even if things do not go exactly to plan it will be ok because we have the skills and the experience to pull it all together.

It is very hard to come to terms with the mortifying truth that sometimes we overestimate our capacity and underestimate the size of the project we have undertaken. It harks back a little to our inability to interpret the architects vision at the beginning and the realisation as we progress that the job was more complicated than we first thought.

The brighter side of this dilemma is that once we have swallowed our pride sufficiently to admit our limitations and reached out to those who can assist, we discover that there are wonderful tradespeople out there who are not only exceptionally good at what they do, but who make the process of our own project richer. I think this has to do with validation. Where our ego sees our limitations as failure, others may not. When others come on board without judgement, without telling you what an idiot you are for not being able to complete the job on your own, without making you in any way feel inadequate, there is an immense feeling of relief. The relief is not only that the job will get done but that you are no longer completely alone in the process. That others have an interest in the project's ultimate success. Now that is what I call a major bonus. So dark as it sometimes becomes, there are flashes of light and hope.

Getting back to the outside.

After spending several days over Easter trying to untangle the mess inside I decided to get back to working on the outside for a bit today. It is so much simpler really. There are a limited number of things you can do to the outside because the basic shape is there and it is just a case of adding, or taking away, bits and freshening it all up. The basic structure is sound but after years of neglect and a fair amount of mistreatment there is a bit of work to be done. However the work is simple; get rid of the dirt and the excess layers that have built up with some hard physical work and then it will be ready for the cosmetic stuff when the time comes.

It really is true what they say, physical activity does make you feel better about the process and gives you the energy to get back to the work inside. Outside work is repetitive and sometimes mindless but you see results more quickly I think and that lifts the spirits. Sometimes that is just what is needed.

To Renovate, Repair or Restore.

The house we rented when I last lived in Brisbane was the kind that many people aspire to. It was a single storey, four bedroom modern house with an open plan living area, which I do like, and an easy-care paved entertaining area. Did I mention it also had a pool. It was the sort of house that would be perfect for entertaining. Tiled floors made it easy to care for and I was very attached to the beautifully organised dressing room and the large en suite. Smooth painted walls, modern kitchen and easy to maintain carpet. Sounds perfect. Yet that house sucked the soul from my body. I am not really sure why I hated it so much.

On the opposite end of the scale was the house we owned in Warwick. An old workers cottage on posts, which had been progressively enlarged by the standard process of closing in the wide verandas to create more rooms. Single skin weatherboards with VJ interior and original hardwood flooring meant that there were more gaps and spaces for cold air to sneak in than you could possibly imagine. According to the tradesman who was helping to create an extra room for me, there was also not one single 90 degree angle in the entire house. I used to call it the house of many doors because it seemed that whenever they added an extra bit it was just closed of and another door added. One of the rooms was only about five feet by eight feet... and it had three doors. To get to Jeremy's bedroom you needed either to go through the hall, two doors, the bathroom, another door, and then the door into his room. Alternatively you could go into the hall, through the dinning room and into his room. I think that involved one less door but effectively cut his room in half.. And while very few of the doors actually matched they were beautiful. Solid wood with a variety of different sized inserts and glass panes. We loved that house. It really was a lovely home. Renovating it was a delight, though there came a time when Benjamin was quite adamant that he was not going to sacrifice any more fingertips to gap filling all the vjs. And I am not sure how many toxins I released as we sanded and stripped back many years of paint and varnish.

This brings me to the dilemma that I have been wrestling with over the past few days. It is a dilemma that I don't think you would have with modern houses but maybe I am wrong. You see as you strip away the layers of paint, varnish and poly filler from the surfaces of older residences you continually uncover imperfections and flaws which have been hidden by time. Natural timbers have imperfections which were not necessarily planed away. Boards have dints and gouges where successive generations of inhabitants have left the marks of their battles and accidents and play. Mismatched glass panes tell stories of balls tossed in fun and fists thrust in anger. The one I find the most amusing is where doors have dropped because of their weight and continual use and the easiest way of fixing it was just to trim a bit of the bottom till they closed. So what do you do when faced with these flaws and the scars left by previous tenants. What does it mean to renovate, to repair, to restore.

Sometimes you reach a point in the process where a section you are working on has been 'repaired' so many times that you are sure that if you chip away all the filler and the glue it will simply disintegrate. And do you actually need to. Do you really need to go right back to the very beginning in order for the renovation to be authentic, or is the authenticity in the acceptance and careful honouring of all the lived moments that form the buildings history. The biggest difference between the two houses I mentioned at the beginning of this post is that the first had no 'character' to speak of. There may be a better word for it but I can't really think of one. The house in Warwick had masses of character, it was a living entity that had evolved and changed over time through the lives that had been lived in it. You got a real sense that you were part of a continuum, a story that was not yet over.

Sometimes we get so carried away with the idea of repairing and restoring that we effectively remove all the organic proof of lives lived, and in so doing we destroy the very essence of the place. The trick is to work out what can be saved and what needs to be completely removed and replaced. This is not always easy and sometimes we make mistakes on the way. It is not always clear at different points which bits are worth keeping and which bits are not. Neither does it help that others will advise you differently depending on their own sense of what matters. When this happens it is so very important that you have access to like minded souls. People who value the same elements and understand the importance of history and what builds the character of a place. Mostly, people who understand and share your goals in the renovating process.

When in a muddle - work with a friend.

Was having one of those days. You know the kind.. So many jobs to do and you just don't know where to begin.. While I was busy procrastinating and trying not to think about it I got a call from a good friend. We had not spoken for a few months and she called just to catch up and see what was happening. Apparently she had read some of my posts and as we talked it became clear that she too had been thinking a lot about renovation and renewal. It was a long conversation, deep and meaningful in the best of ways. So I may not have got any of the jobs I wanted done, but going and spending some time working with my friend helped me to get some energy back. It is interesting how helping a friend can actually help you to clarify some of the design elements that have been a bit esoteric or intangible.

There are many good reasons for renovating, but when it comes right down to it the very best one is that you can no longer continue in the space you are in. That while there is a great deal that you like about the place it is actually not working well for you. You know this when you realise that you spend a lot of time compromising in order to keep things running.

We talked a lot about safe spaces today and we meant much more than simply conforming to OHS. I think when we talked about safe we were actually saying that we wanted a place that was affirming, life-giving and where we could know beyond doubt that we belonged. We had reached a point where we no longer wanted to settle for what appeared to be fairly good. We wanted better. We wanted more. We admitted, and this is hard to do, that while we rejected the worst aspects of societies greed and selfishness, we needed, dare I say deserved to ask for the the best possible environment that would allow us to thrive and to grow.

This of course led to a conversation on ecological factors. How your design fits with the environment in which the building is positioned. How adjacent buildings and the community in general are affected, and what adjustments you need to embrace to make the end product better. We agreed that the process needs to be organic. It must be a living breathing organism that adapts to what is happening around it, because if the plans are rigid and set in concrete, the potential damage to the surroundings is severe.

One of the best things about working with someone else for a while is that your shared ideas and the very conversation itself helps you to clarify those aspects that may have been a little foggy... The ones that you keep putting in the to-do pile because you can't clearly visualise what is involved. I have had many occasions this week to remember what I think was a quote..'How do I know what I am thinking until I hear it coming out of my mouth.' This is what working with others allows, the opportunity to make thoughts concrete by speaking them aloud. And, of course, it is always good to be reminded that there are others who are also in the midst of the same process.

Trusting the Architect

It occurred to me this evening as I was pondering my progress that the dwelling I am now working on is significantly different from the one that I thought I was creating when I first set out.

I knew that the only safe place to construct anything sturdy was going to be in Melbourne, a city which nurtures and feeds my soul in a way that no other place does. However when I left sunny Queensland to return home I had a very particular structure in mind. What I now realise is that that structure, worthy and all that it was, was appealing because the design and composition had been interpreted by me as semi-traditional and, most of all, acceptable. Acceptable to all the same people and institutions which I have, in my own twisted way, answered to all my life. I guess what I am trying to say is that, even though it had a more modern and edgy design than most, I had mistakenly visualized a plan that was still basically safe. And that could be taken on a number of levels.

What I realise now is that I had completely misunderstood the architect's intention and vision. The renovation and restoration that she had in mind was far more adventurous and thorough than I had been prepared to buy into. Furthermore, if I can embrace the scope of her vision I will end up with a dwelling that is far more authentically me than anything that my meddling would create. I do understand that this is going to involve a certain amount of risk. There are going to be a lot of people who will not be happy with the end result. It is going to be different, unusual, perhaps even outlandish and will probably not blend in very well.

However, what it will be is a truly safe and comfortable place for me to be, and this in turn will make it a safer and more enriching place for the people who come and visit there. After all, what is the point of renovating if not to invite others in to share the space.