Moves feel like such milestones, and I tend to segment my memories by them, maybe because I’ve moved a lot in my adult life.
I found these old paintings in my attic, and they took me back, way back. I painted them when I was living in what I fondly call my “bachelorette apartment” in Boston, MA. The place had its issues, to put it mildly, but it was a good time in my life. I did a series of paintings of nearly every room in the apartment. Most of the crazy furniture we got off the street.
Sadly, I didn’t have enough foresight to spend more on my materials. These two were painted on discarded foam core. Note to self: even when low on funds, use quality materials. My current home is now almost completely empty and echo-y. I kind of like it this way except for the fact that I can’t find anything.