Space

A load of crates and boxes arrived from the gallery in the afternoon. It was cast out of the basement room we were told wasn't in the lease, but which we'd filled up anyway. I was informed on Tuesday that it was coming Thursday, and that I had to get rid of "all my furniture" to accommodate it all. Goddamnit. So, in the 105 degree heat, I dismantled my Lounge; chotchkes into boxes, tables chairs and lamps dispersed like refugees to other studios in the building, and the sofa disassembled and hidden about these rooms as carefully as Anne Franke and her family. All my labors were unnecessary though, the load was hardly a big one, easily jammed in to the existing storage area. Now the sofa can be gathered up and reassembled ; it might be a little more work to get the cabinetmakers in the basement to surrender the Eames and Paul Mccobb chairs they've already made their own. The former site of the lounge is now luxuriously vacant, huge like the Chinese farmer's house after the Wise Man had him move the cows and carts claustrophobically in and then out again - like the sudden square footage of an unknown room revealed by moving a giant wardrobe away from the previously hidden door.

Now I can fill it up with something else.