As a teen, I stuck those terribly greenie, luminous stars on the ceiling of my room. And at night, they’d shine. An inside-outside galaxy. The posters changed on my walls, but my stars still twinkled.
In the months coming up to exams, I’d draft massive posters and hang them all over my room. I’d pace and learn or simply sit still to gather my thoughts and drink them in. Always surrounded by posters. Surrounded by things that measured progress, taught me something new or told me where I came from.
In some ways, sticking to clean lines of conventional interior design robs us of marking life events. Makes it impossible to really live in rooms.
This month’s Creative Review has a piece on how modern composers are adopting colour and graphics in unconventional notation, with the roots of the article from The Rest is Noise by Alex Ross. The book charts the how classical music changed in the Twentieth Century moving from Viennese waltz twirlings to the Cage’s idiom that anything is music if you listen hard enough.
For as much as the unconventional notation tells the composer, conductor and musicians what to do and when, it’s also a tangible impression of where the creativity came from. How it was hewn out of the mind and onto white paper.
I used to paint quite a bit. The strange thing about painting I found was the remembrance of moments every time I came back to them. I’d remember the amazing strong cup of tea I’d made on that flower petal. Or perhaps, the tune and radio station I listened to on the sketch layout of that guitar.
How do you measure the space you live in? Are you teaching yourself new ways to measure and share outside Cookie Cutters?