As of Monday, John and I have been married seven years — or, as Clara jokingly insists, “a hand and two fingers” (“what’s seven?… A HAND AND TWO FINGERS!” *maniacal laughter*).
Getting married on 7/7/07 means our seventh anniversary felt especially meaningful — the golden birthday of anniversaries, if you will. For our fifth we went to Hawaii, and we’d always imagined celebrating seven with somewhere special (Australia is the big dream — maybe for our tenth — and the Caribbean felt perfect for lucky seven). But as summer neared, the idea of packing two kids onto a plane lost its appeal. We’re still adjusting to life with two little ones, so instead of risking a chaotic flight, we saved part of the trip money for next year when we might feel more settled and adventurous. The rest we spent on a painting.
At $850 it was a significant splurge for us, but buying an original painting of the beach felt like a way to give ourselves a mini-vacation at home — a lasting reminder of time away without the luggage, gate lines, and sleep-deprived aisle pacing. We hope it becomes part of our home for years — maybe even someday hanging in Clara’s house.
The piece is a 30 x 30″ original by Teil Duncan, an artist we’ve admired for a long time. We resisted grabbing a smaller, less expensive print and decided a large original would be the perfect seventh-anniversary gift. When it arrived it was even more stunning in person than online, and we had it up on the wall in about five minutes. Photos don’t capture half the richness of seeing it in real life.
It looks lovely next to our blue front door and is one of those scenes you can get lost in for ages.
The wall color behind it is our favorite neutral: Edgecomb Gray by Benjamin Moore. That soft tone gives the painting space to sing without competing for attention.
Every time I walk past the painting I notice something new. Clara has already stopped to admire it — “I like that pink chair! We need a pink beach chair!” — and Teddy’s eyes catch it when I carry him up the stairs. Burger hasn’t shown interest yet, but there’s still time.
Hanging the painting in our foyer made us realize we already had two other pieces there.
We have some smaller works by our friend Lesli, which share soft blues and bright whites that feel related without being too matchy. They feature things we love: the beach, John’s Granny’s house, and Burgdorf Goodman himself.
You might remember we originally had a Samantha French print hung in the hall by the door, so we moved that into the office and held it over the desk. We actually tried the anniversary painting there first, but the hall felt like the better spot, so swapping pieces was an easy fix. It’s nice to have art over the desk now too.
While hanging art in the office, we noticed a few more small paintings on the shelves — one from our last house, a pear I picked up for $4 at an estate sale, and a couple of bees from Etsy. We’ve always intended to build a small, meaningful collection, so it’s satisfying to see it come together slowly: inexpensive finds mixed with a splurge or two add up over time. Before we knew it, we had a hand-and-two-fingers’ worth of art.
And of course Clara’s creations cover the cork board above her desk — priceless, irreplaceable pieces that never need to be framed.
There’s something funny about how long people wait to hang art in a new house or a freshly painted room, even though nail holes are easy to patch. Call it Nail Hole Neurosis — we’re definitely guilty. It took us ten months to add some nail holes after painting our bedroom, despite knowing how much art transforms a room. Once the pieces were up, our bedroom felt so much more like us.
Seeing how much a few pieces changed our bedroom has inspired me to get more art up in the upstairs hallway and elsewhere. What are we waiting for?
And to everyone who celebrates a 7/7 anniversary — hope yours was a happy one!