Melancolia I, Albrecht Dürer (A visual ode to a hammer)

 

Demolition is over.

The sore part of me is glad. I made it without major incidents:

Sledgehammer slipped and my index finger got crushed against a beam (today is not so purplish looking anymore).

Crowbar slipped from the crevice and I stuck the end of it to my belly.

Right foot welcomed a huge chunk of plaster I was pulling from the ceiling (I remembered all the curse words in Spanish AND English). 

And finally, the famous hammer on top of the ladder that always falls on the head, big bump, little stars and birds, no blood.

But truly I managed to stay relatively safe. Many rusty nails on the soles of my boots tried to prove this wrong. I conquered small moments of claustrophobia in the attic and what kept me going was the fact I was creating open spaces for the house to breathe. The rush you get from hitting moldy plaster ceilings while standing on the beams (which are your best friends up there) is amazing. For a few seconds you visually lose (the usually relied upon) ground and plaster crashes on the floor. It made me think there's always a way out, you're always able to create open spaces even when it seems there's none. Beautiful.

Yesterday was the end of it all. After sweeping the house from top to bottom I'm happy I was involved in my friend's project, that I was fortunate enough to get paid in the process and that it has helped me to go places I would had never been to otherwise within the inner structure of a house.

This was a good break from my projects, practice and why not, myself. Today brings me back to the question of finding other options in making a steadier income, to financing more projects, to have healthier relationships and I really really hope, almost wish I can find a way to tumble down walls and look for ways to walk out, bruises and all.