"Do You Know the Story Behind This Home?"
We closed on Birtha Friday morning, and by Sunday evening, we were sitting on our front porch, caked in plaster dust, dirt and sweat (and to be honest, there was probably some mouse poop in the mix, too - actually, there had to be because that shiz was everywhere). Our good friends, Matt and Tabitha, had helped us do demo the entire weekend, and we were taking a break (called dinner) with pizza and beer.
As we're getting our groove on (aka, too tired and sore to move, and Matt and Tabitha questioning just how much they want to be friends with us), an older, long-haired man is walking by with his tiny black and brown dog. He asks if we live here, and Clayton and I get up and cheerfully exclaim, "Yes, we just bought the house on Friday!" This man, wearing a straw hat, sunglasses and sandals, then asks us, "Do you know the story behind this home?"
Dear god, was someone murdered in our home?
Is it haunted?
What the hell have we done?
Who is this man and is he going to scare us to steal our pizza and beer?
I wonder if I can pet his dog before he leaves.
Thankfully, this man did not want to steal our pizza or our beer or tell us that someone was murdered in our home. Instead, he shared that our home used to be the art studio of Jacksonville-based artist Lee Adams.
Well, shut my mouth!
No, literally. It was probably agape with wonderment and surprise. (The fact that I, too, am an artist only added to my excitement.)
Bob and his sweet little dog, Lola, are our (awesome) neighbors from just a few houses down. Bob knew about Lee because Bob grew up in the same house he lives in now. As the youngest of five brothers, Lee came down to Bob's parents' house to say he had birds and rocks in his back yard that he didn't want any of the boys messing with (ha!). As a first impression, you would think Lee may have been a surly artist, but from all accounts from Bob and his brothers, he was a quite kind and good man who had an affinity for chocolate milkshakes. And we all know you can't be surly if you like chocolate milkshakes.
After not making our nightmares come true, Bob and Lola bid us adieu. I was on an our-house-keeps-getting-cooler-and-cooler high, and we began googling about Lee Adams. This guy wasn't a small-potatoes local artist. He painted for the 1964 World's Fair. His 31-foot-long painting of Jean Ribault landing on the Saint Johns River had a $10,000 restoration and is displayed in the Jacksonville Public Library. This guy was a world-renowned botanical painter who was described by Dr. David Fairchild as "...the man to do for tropical fruits what Audubon did for the birds." SAY WHAAAATTTTT?
And our home was his freaking art studio!
But then, panic set in.
Just the day before, we had demoed the master bathroom, going down to the studs. We uncovered what at the time we thought was philodendron wallpaper on some of the crumbling plaster behind the cleverly disguised red marble-tiled walls. Not only did I think the wallpaper was actually pretty and interesting, but it was just another coincidence as we had planned to have philodendron at our wedding. Appreciating the wallpaper but being the demo machines that we are, we continued the tear down to get to the studs.
Lee was a world-renowned botanical painter. Philodendron is botanical.
OH MY GOD, WHAT HAVE WE DONE?
I looked at Clayton. "I know we have like 50 bags of trash, but we have to go through them and find the philodendron."
Thankfully, Clayton was the thinking half of our partnership at that time (me being the grief-stricken artist), and said he thought there may still be very tiny pieces of the plaster at the top of the wall where it meets the ceiling that we could check.
So began the anticipatory walk up the stairs.
Do I want it to be his painting? That would be so cool! But then that means we will have destroyed his work! This world-renowned artist's work - GAH!
Followed by the anticipatory climb up the ladder to the see the tiny pieces of plaster.
But if it's not his painting, how disappointing - we could've had something really cool in our house! But then we wouldn't have destroyed his work that we can never undestroy because it's all a crumbly, plaster-y mess in our driveway of trash bags.
And then, AH-HA!
I could see little small dots - it wasn't a painting, it was in fact wallpaper like we first thought. You cannot image my relief (or maybe you can with that Frodo meme above).
So, to recap, our day could've been really bad.
Bob could've told us someone was murdered in our house. Super creepy.
Or that it was haunted. Well, there goes my sleep - forever.
Or that he wanted to steal our pizza and beer. Meh - we could've sprinkled mouse poop in it first.
Or that I couldn't pet his dog. Torture for a crazy dog lady.
Or we could have discovered that we destroyed the art of a well-known and respected painter. MY HEART.
Instead, we found out one of the coolest things possible for our home (or any home, really) - that we are lucky enough to share the same space that inspired Lee Adams so many years ago.
Have you ever had a "Do you know the story behind this home?" moment?
As we're getting our groove on (aka, too tired and sore to move, and Matt and Tabitha questioning just how much they want to be friends with us), an older, long-haired man is walking by with his tiny black and brown dog. He asks if we live here, and Clayton and I get up and cheerfully exclaim, "Yes, we just bought the house on Friday!" This man, wearing a straw hat, sunglasses and sandals, then asks us, "Do you know the story behind this home?"
Dear god, was someone murdered in our home?
Is it haunted?
What the hell have we done?
Who is this man and is he going to scare us to steal our pizza and beer?
I wonder if I can pet his dog before he leaves.
Thankfully, this man did not want to steal our pizza or our beer or tell us that someone was murdered in our home. Instead, he shared that our home used to be the art studio of Jacksonville-based artist Lee Adams.
 |
| Lee Adams - that handsome man - IN OUR LIVING ROOM! |
Well, shut my mouth!
No, literally. It was probably agape with wonderment and surprise. (The fact that I, too, am an artist only added to my excitement.)
Bob and his sweet little dog, Lola, are our (awesome) neighbors from just a few houses down. Bob knew about Lee because Bob grew up in the same house he lives in now. As the youngest of five brothers, Lee came down to Bob's parents' house to say he had birds and rocks in his back yard that he didn't want any of the boys messing with (ha!). As a first impression, you would think Lee may have been a surly artist, but from all accounts from Bob and his brothers, he was a quite kind and good man who had an affinity for chocolate milkshakes. And we all know you can't be surly if you like chocolate milkshakes.
After not making our nightmares come true, Bob and Lola bid us adieu. I was on an our-house-keeps-getting-cooler-and-cooler high, and we began googling about Lee Adams. This guy wasn't a small-potatoes local artist. He painted for the 1964 World's Fair. His 31-foot-long painting of Jean Ribault landing on the Saint Johns River had a $10,000 restoration and is displayed in the Jacksonville Public Library. This guy was a world-renowned botanical painter who was described by Dr. David Fairchild as "...the man to do for tropical fruits what Audubon did for the birds." SAY WHAAAATTTTT?
And our home was his freaking art studio!
 |
| Lee Adams surrounded by his paintings. We've tried to figure out where this photo could be in our home, and our best guest is in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs. |
But then, panic set in.
Just the day before, we had demoed the master bathroom, going down to the studs. We uncovered what at the time we thought was philodendron wallpaper on some of the crumbling plaster behind the cleverly disguised red marble-tiled walls. Not only did I think the wallpaper was actually pretty and interesting, but it was just another coincidence as we had planned to have philodendron at our wedding. Appreciating the wallpaper but being the demo machines that we are, we continued the tear down to get to the studs.
Lee was a world-renowned botanical painter. Philodendron is botanical.
OH MY GOD, WHAT HAVE WE DONE?
 |
| Ah, the foreshadowing. Clayton knew exactly what we had done. |
Thankfully, Clayton was the thinking half of our partnership at that time (me being the grief-stricken artist), and said he thought there may still be very tiny pieces of the plaster at the top of the wall where it meets the ceiling that we could check.
So began the anticipatory walk up the stairs.
Do I want it to be his painting? That would be so cool! But then that means we will have destroyed his work! This world-renowned artist's work - GAH!
Followed by the anticipatory climb up the ladder to the see the tiny pieces of plaster.
But if it's not his painting, how disappointing - we could've had something really cool in our house! But then we wouldn't have destroyed his work that we can never undestroy because it's all a crumbly, plaster-y mess in our driveway of trash bags.
And then, AH-HA!
I could see little small dots - it wasn't a painting, it was in fact wallpaper like we first thought. You cannot image my relief (or maybe you can with that Frodo meme above).
So, to recap, our day could've been really bad.
Bob could've told us someone was murdered in our house. Super creepy.
Or that it was haunted. Well, there goes my sleep - forever.
Or that he wanted to steal our pizza and beer. Meh - we could've sprinkled mouse poop in it first.
Or that I couldn't pet his dog. Torture for a crazy dog lady.
Or we could have discovered that we destroyed the art of a well-known and respected painter. MY HEART.
Instead, we found out one of the coolest things possible for our home (or any home, really) - that we are lucky enough to share the same space that inspired Lee Adams so many years ago.
Have you ever had a "Do you know the story behind this home?" moment?
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