Accessorize and Personalize

Years ago, a bearded man came to my parents’ house to show them his traveling gallery. Most of the works were Judaic or of Jerusalem landscapes, and my parents connected with a piece that depicted a Pesach Seder in autumnal tones. I connected with it too, in the form of a Bic pen and wobbly script — my name, quite large in the corner of the celebrated canvas, prior to purchasing. My first piece of art.

Fast-forward to bright-eyed newlyweds, jet-lagged and energized as we landed with our oversized duffle bags in our new Machal apartment… new for us, but not new in origin. As we surveyed the once-white walls and unironic terrazzo floors that first night, as we convinced ourselves that the stickiness of the vinyl couch was an initiatory item, we both knew we’d be finding ourselves at the paint store in Talpiot the next morning, trying to put a fresh spin on the walls of our first apartment.

I can still feel the soreness in my shoulders and back after we spent hours painting the apartment a warm taupe and traveling to IKEA in our tiny Getz, somehow fitting in lamps and beds and even a tree between the passenger and driver’s seats. It became home because it was ours, and each time I straightened the velvet throw pillows on that brown couch next to the brown coffee table, I felt pride in our team effort to make it feel personal.

Not much has changed over the years. The personalization continues to feel like an integral part of what enlivens my home — at one point a rogue autograph on a painting, and now marigold drapes that pull together a green room.