tropical punch

Did you ever watch Lamb Chops Play Along when you were a kid (or raising kids)?  Ugh, I can think of so many things I'd rather do than listen to that show's theme song.  But I can't help thinking of it as I write yet another post about what seems to be my endless list of Labor Day projects.  It's amazing how much a girl can accomplish when a crafty friend comes to help for the whole weekend.  (Thank you, Shelli, thank you!)

When I first decided to stick to just four colors in my living room--just four!--I thought I'd lean more toward the cool side of the blue, green, orange, and yellow palette.  Instead I find myself wildly attracted to the warm side, beaming with happiness as more citrusy brights enter my space.  Compelled by my newfound love of juicy color, I decided to rehabilitate some neutral frames I had lying about.

I armed Shelli with orange spray paint and let her go crazy.  (You shoulda seen her--I mean, really!)  Meanwhile I worked on a yellow project that isn't yet ready for its big reveal.  You know you'll see it eventually.

After a few thin coats--Sherry of Young House Love recommends shooting for coats the thickness of a piece of paper, a visual I find helpful--here's what we had:

Instantly more fun!  Time for a ho-hum wall to learn how to party.

I wanted to really take my time with this to get the spacing and arrangement right.  Accordingly, I laid each frame on a piece of newspaper and traced its size to create a little temporary template.

The extra space in the middle is for a small oval mirror I picked up during our weekend thrifting expedition.  See it perched on the silver phone-charging tray?  So in between contemplating each placement of my templates, I admired my shiny "new" frames:

So chipper!  I'm pretty sure the pull I'm experiencing toward the bright side of the color wheel is purely emotional.  There's just something about the energy and enthusiasm of orange that the sedateness of blue can't rival.  Right now I have a huge crush on this confident color.

When I finally quit staring, I measured the frames to find out how far from their edges the hanging nails would need to go.  After some thinking, pacing, and considering from various angles, I decided on a configuration and pulled out a hammer.  I drove a nail for each frame, positioned on the newspaper template in accordance with my earlier measurements.

Word to the wise: if you use this method, either don't use newsprint or don't use as heavy a hand as I did when pencil-marking.  The amount of pressure I used to mark the spacing transferred ink onto my wall, almost as if I had drawn right on the wall in the first place--the very effect I sought to avoid!  The damage may be minor (and difficult to see) but here it is anyway:

Thankfully it was nothing Mr. Clean couldn't handle.  He flexed a muscle and that pencil mark ran screaming.  Whew.  Disaster averted.  With my wall spic and span, my nails tidily placed, and my spiffy frames begging for a place to shine, I was almost finished.

And I've got to be honest: I'm still only almost finished.  I'm not postmodern enough to want empty frames on my wall.  I hunted for a beautiful nature photo my hubby took a while back, but in the post-move mess I couldn't figure out where that photo went.  Other possible frame-fillers include: ink sketches on parcel paper, small photos centered on green or blue scrapbook paper, or a textile of some sort.  (I've found a whimsical embroidered-bird fabric I'd love to bring home, but at $22 a yard that's going on a back burner for a bit.  Then again, if they'll sell me a really small piece it wouldn't be bad at all.  I wonder...)  I think for a while I'll just stare at my wall of potential.  Maybe inspiration will strike.