UPSTAIRS GUEST ROOM PASTEL
By William Mansfield
This drawing depicts my parent’s upstairs guest bedroom on the second floor of the house. In many ways I considered it the most beautiful room in the house. My parents wallpapered it with a delicate floral pattern of red and green flowers, with a purple floral band at the top. Each piece of furniture in the room was decorated with lovely vignettes, one being antique sewing materials with tiny scissors and old, silver thimbles tarnished with age and years of wear and tear. The large white pitcher and bowl in the drawing always stood out in the room, especially the way it reflected in the mirror behind it.
The feel in this drawing is actually much more austere than the room itself was at its best. There were more objects in the room than are depicted here. For compositional and aesthetic purposes I took some objects out. I attempted to put in the floral wallpaper pattern, but it did not translate well to the drawing so I left the walls plain. I think the more austere rendering captures my feeling of loss, and of the empty space left behind.
Because it was a guest room, and not a regular living space, this room does not have the intense memories of some of the other rooms. I remember it as a very pleasant place to stay, and I often slept in this room when I visited, rather than my own bedroom. It was a great place to take a nap or read a book, and easily could have been rented out as a bed and breakfast room if my parents had chosen to do so. It was on the second floor close to a couple of the tall hardwood trees, and I could always hear the breeze rustling in the leaves. When the wind blew stronger, the branches would scrape against the roof of the house.
During their last years my parents fell behind on home maintenance. The floral wallpaper began to peel away from the wall, and the plaster on the ceiling began to crack and crumble. Especially after my Father became incapacitated, my Mother was overwhelmed and unable to keep up with house repairs and maintenance. She was also too proud to accept or authorize the help my wife and I longed to give her. We would have loved to help out doing some work on the house, or hire contractors, but my mother would never authorize us to do it. As a result, the entire house fell into serious disrepair in their last years. The character of the upstairs guest room changed. As the wallpaper faded and peeled, and the ceiling plaster cracked, the ambiance changed from a quaint bed and breakfast to a more Southern Gothic feel of a crumbling mansion. But although the character changed, the room never lost its beauty, and I always enjoyed staying there until the end.
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By William Mansfield
This drawing depicts my parent’s upstairs guest bedroom on the second floor of the house. In many ways I considered it the most beautiful room in the house. My parents wallpapered it with a delicate floral pattern of red and green flowers, with a purple floral band at the top. Each piece of furniture in the room was decorated with lovely vignettes, one being antique sewing materials with tiny scissors and old, silver thimbles tarnished with age and years of wear and tear. The large white pitcher and bowl in the drawing always stood out in the room, especially the way it reflected in the mirror behind it.
The feel in this drawing is actually much more austere than the room itself was at its best. There were more objects in the room than are depicted here. For compositional and aesthetic purposes I took some objects out. I attempted to put in the floral wallpaper pattern, but it did not translate well to the drawing so I left the walls plain. I think the more austere rendering captures my feeling of loss, and of the empty space left behind.
Because it was a guest room, and not a regular living space, this room does not have the intense memories of some of the other rooms. I remember it as a very pleasant place to stay, and I often slept in this room when I visited, rather than my own bedroom. It was a great place to take a nap or read a book, and easily could have been rented out as a bed and breakfast room if my parents had chosen to do so. It was on the second floor close to a couple of the tall hardwood trees, and I could always hear the breeze rustling in the leaves. When the wind blew stronger, the branches would scrape against the roof of the house.
During their last years my parents fell behind on home maintenance. The floral wallpaper began to peel away from the wall, and the plaster on the ceiling began to crack and crumble. Especially after my Father became incapacitated, my Mother was overwhelmed and unable to keep up with house repairs and maintenance. She was also too proud to accept or authorize the help my wife and I longed to give her. We would have loved to help out doing some work on the house, or hire contractors, but my mother would never authorize us to do it. As a result, the entire house fell into serious disrepair in their last years. The character of the upstairs guest room changed. As the wallpaper faded and peeled, and the ceiling plaster cracked, the ambiance changed from a quaint bed and breakfast to a more Southern Gothic feel of a crumbling mansion. But although the character changed, the room never lost its beauty, and I always enjoyed staying there until the end.
ick here to edit.