When You Get Cast as a Tree . . .
Any drama nerd has heard the admonition that if you get cast as a tree, you have to be the best tree you possibly can. You have to crush it as a tree - make the audience believe they’re in a freaking forest listening to the wind in the leaves. Well, I wasn’t trying out for a play, but I did get an unexpected opportunity dropped into my lap to “do the bathrooms” for a craft beer/kitchen/bar that was about to open in my tiny town. The owner of this place is a risk taker - he had just opened the only free standing coffee shop in town and he was about to open the only craft beer joint our town had ever seen. In response to a picture of a centerpiece I made and posted on Facebook, he commented, “I have ideas circling around in my head. I need your help!” Someone wanted my help?! I was there for it. I thought we were just going to talk centerpieces, but the conversation quickly moved to a cabinet he wanted built that incorporated chicken wire the way I had in my craft show display. I was intimidated, but accepted. Finally he asked,"And how much to do the bathrooms?” Me?! Do the bathrooms? My heart leapt at being offered the chance for my first paid designing gig. I’ve helped several friends pretty up their spaces, but my services had always been pro bono. I felt deeply honored that someone was taking a risk to give me an opportunity. Until the critical voice in my head started piping up.
Me: I can’t believe it! Someone is actually willing to pay me to improve their space!
Also me: But it’s bathrooms . . . . in a baaaaarrrrr.
Me: Can’t you just let me have this one thing?!
Also me: Ok, bar bathroom girl.
Me: 🤦♀️*wimper*
Negative voices notwithstanding, I forged ahead. Even though I wasn’t designing for a residential living space (my dream gig), I decided I was going to give people the coolest gastropub (see, that sounds better already) bathroom experience I possibly could. I reminded myself that the owner had put a lot of love and work into his place and the bathrooms deserved a lot of love, too. And, as it turns out, this opportunity was more like being cast as a tree in the hottest play of the year.
Constraints: $300 for both bathrooms, they needed to have a subtle nautical theme (the bar is named Mudhook), the color scheme was navy, gray, and white with pops of red, and whatever I put in there had to work with the existing finishes. He didn’t set that budget, I did because I’m deeply and chronically terrified of overcharging anyone. And I tend to care more about other people’s financial solvency than my own. Probably gonna have to work on that.
My vision for the women’s bathroom included an over-sized willow wreath, a ship’s wheel, a large piece with mirrors to bounce the light around, and a huge piece of flow art. A quick perusal of OfferUp turned up a listing for a decorative ship’s wheel with net and anchor set. Jackpot! To turn these items into something more substantial, I had 2'x2’ pieces of high quality ply wood cut at Home Depot which I painted white and attached a red glossy frame to. I decided to use the anchor for the men’s room.
From the same 4’x8’ piece of plywood, I had two 2’x6’ pieces cut to use for the large scale pieces of flow art, one for each bathroom. Here they are, in all their primed potential.
These were the biggest pieces I had ever attempted and I was super nervous. My goal was to create the feeling of a stormy sea on each panel. Using gray, navy, white, and silver paint, I poured multiple layers of each color into 6 enormous plastic cups, then set out 3 cups per panel at equally spaced intervals and flipped the cups onto the wood. I tilted the panels and added pools of paint here and there until I got something I was happy with. Neither turned out exactly the way I hoped they would, but I still kinda like ‘em.
I searched for a mirror that I could turn into a faux window for the women’s bathroom, but couldn’t find anything exactly the size I needed that stayed within budget, so I was in a bit of a bind. If necessity is the mother of invention, then constraint is the mother of creativity. I came up with a plan to create something reminiscent of mirrored portals on the side of a ship using mirror effect spray paint, glass charger plates that I had on hand, rope, and pickets.
Once I had the piece assembled, though, it still needed a pop of red, so I found some starfish and gave them a couple of coats of the same glossy red I used on the wheel and anchor frames.
I whipped up the willow wreath and moved on to the final bit of decor for the men’s bathroom. My vision for the men’s bathroom involved lantern sconces on either side of the net. To make the sconces, I used reclaimed 2”x6” wood and branch brackets from Hobby Lobby. These might be my favorite creation to date. I snapped a couple of pictures to send to my client for approval.
Finally, it was time to install everything. Deep breaths. My Bear came with me partly because there was no way I could install the heavier pieces by myself and partly for moral support. I had worse butterflies than I ever did before a high school play. The portal piece went up first and fit perfectly.
Then we installed one of the flow art pieces. This was made a bit more challenging by toilets inconveniently placed where I needed to put the step ladder and my general lack of spacial reasoning, but in the end it looked exactly the way I had envisioned.
Compared to the other pieces, installing the wreath and ship’s wheel art felt like a breeze. We had developed a system and it felt like we were in the home stretch.
And then I opened the door to the men’s room. Oh, [insert appropriately poop-themed expletive here along with the sound of a 20 car pile up in my brain]. I don’t make a habit of frequenting men’s restrooms. I grew up with two sisters and no brothers. And even though I’m married, the idea of differing waste removal receptacles for men and women was not on my radar. I had assumed the men’s room would be the mirror image of the women’s. Observe, if you will, my janky drawing of how I had planned each bathroom.
Observe, if you will, my janky drawing of what I actually encountered upon opening that door for the first time.
I had to think fast, in spite of the chorus in my head screaming, “You irresponsible idiot! You never think anything through and you always let everyone down! Why do you ever think you can come through for people?!” The 2’x6’ painting wouldn’t fit across the back wall because of the way the stall was configured and I couldn’t put the lanterns on the wall between the sink and the stall because the owner pointed out that a drunk person opening the stall door would soon shatter the glass. The lantern and net configuration couldn’t go on the opposite wall because they were in the path of the entry door. Double poop-themed expletive. Once my panic attack subsided, I put the painting on the wall between the sink and the stall. Ok, one problem down.
With sinking heart, I abandoned my vision of lantern sconces on either side of the net and just put them up next to the sink in a staggered configuration so they would at least provide some visual interest.
The net was blissfully easy to hang, but without the lanterns on either side, it lacked something. That night, I whipped up a faux life preserver using rope, my glue gun, and paint. That provided the splash of red I needed to keep the eye moving around the room. Honestly, I go back and forth on how I feel about this. I love that it’s subtly sculptural, but there’s that naggy voice in my head that says it could be better. The client was happy, though, so I’ll take it.
And last, but not least, the anchor. Oh, that anchor. Given the configuration of the room, there was really only one place it could go. While making it, I had debated putting it on a diagonal vs straight up and down and the diagonal option won because it felt more whimsical. Now I feel like not putting it straight up and down was a bit of a missed opportunity for hilarity given it’s final location.
Looking at these pictures, I still feel like someone with more experience/talent/vision could have done a better job. It was definitely a great learning opportunity, though.
Oh, right, but the centerpieces that started it all. Those, I’m happy with. He had ordered small, plain tin tubs to hold napkins and condiments that he felt needed . . . something. I gave him several options and this is the one he chose.
Once again, jute twine FTW.