This is the area in the attic that is set up for TV. For you, that may be it. For me this whole house is filled with memories.
Charles Moore and his good friend Donlyn Lyndon wrote a lovely book, Chambers for a Memory Palace, all about how space shapes our perceptions, interactions, etc. I am not such an abstract thinker. This house is clearly becoming my memory palace. I will be able to take you around every room and tell you specifically why. I’ll try to keep it brief. I’ll avoid rooms you have already seen.
So here you see your basic complementary color scheme: red, green, yellow. I see a drive down Fillmore in San Francisco. “Stop, drop me off, park the car. I just found our sofa.” So Robert did; we had been looking for ages and were pretty desperate. I had found our sofa, with fold-out beds, even. We bought it on the spot and my aesthetc credibility went up a mile. I see Robert’s chair; I wish he were here to sit in it. There is a red rug we bought on our first trip to Istanbul and the tan one we bought on the last. The propaganda posters, not yet hung, are from a trip to Viet Nam. I remember our guide taking me off the luxury path that Robert enjoyed to this little shop where an indifferent sales clerk was clearly baffled by all these Americans wanting this stuff. Mathieu made the table. An ersatz Japanese young man dreams of Elvis, fries and a Harley. I bought it for a boyfriend, a bit of a dreamer himself, who later died.
And yes, it’s a pleasant place to watch TV.