The Perks of Being Drywall

It turns out, the perks are few. This post details one of the messiest and crumbliest projects these old eyes have ever seen.

The material: Drywall.

The source: An around-the-corner-construction-site-recycling-bin.

The story: I have been making coasters in the style seen in the backsplash project for years and years, always with procured bathroom tiles. These coasters are great, and I have sold something like 900 jillion of them between the Hodgepodgery, Mantis Collective craft fairs, blah blah blah. Hilariously, we began noticing water rings on the trunk in our living room because we weren't actually in possession of any. YET. And while I knew ready-made bathroom tiles would work, I didn't have any on hand. But I did have an elusive and growing stack of scrap drywall, so I tried to be the Mother of Invention or the Necessity of A Mother or the Invention of Necessity or something.

The How To Do It:

1. Measure out a standard coaster size directly onto the drywall.

2. Using a straight edge and a utility knife, score the drywall as deeply and safely as you can. The drywall should snap easily along the cut. I made six coasters and three cuts on my hand.

3. Those edges will be BEAT, homegirl. Sand and scrape the edges. I had to peel the base cardboard off as well. The inexactness of it all meant that each square was unique and imperfect. Some people will like that, and some people won't. OH WELL.

4. Prime those suckers. Drywall won't stand up to moisture as it is, so I used the same primer as I did for the table map project to prepare them. This was difficult, actually. The drywall was pretty crumbly, and I am pretty impatient, so I ended up doing a lot of breathing exercises.

5. While they're drying, make some Aesthetic Decisions. I knew that I wanted these coasters to be straightforward and unironic, unlike most of my crafts. But at the same time, I wanted them to be innovative, distinct, and bitchin. I ended up using some scrap wallpaper pieces that the cerealously lovely Aly Lehman had given me. I picked my colors based mostly on the old-time-stripey gold sofa that Betsy Claar had given me.

6. Drench the (dry)wallpaper in modpodge, smear onto the drywall tiles, and let dry(wall).

7 Spray with clear acrylic finish.

8. Reinforce the backs with cork or whathaveyou. (I recommend the sheet cork as opposed to actual corkS. But you are very smart and will make a good choice either way.)

9. Display on your windowsill next to the old-time-stripey gold sofa that Betsy Claar gave you.

The cost: $0 (scrap drywall) + $0 (scrap wallpaper) +$0 (scrap cork) + $.50 (the combined cost of the Modpodge and Acrylic Finish I used) = $.50

And now welcome to a segment we call This Person Has Surpassed Me, in which I catch wind of someone doing excellent work and would like to tell you about them. Today's guest is Benjamin Thorpe, one of my most good friends and an intimidation to each facet of my creativity. His work is studied and quiet. I am compelled by this in particular. You can see Ben's work this July at the Midtown Scholar's Yellow Wall Gallery (they are letting him show his work even though he doesn't even live in this town).

oh, say say say (the yeah yeah yeahs)

the item: kitchen table
the story: i have, at last, finished the kitchen table. (and when i say finished, i mean i still need to paint over a few mistakes and then seal it to protect from the underside of the cup of tea you will sip with me soon. also to come: i am inscribing the poem what we need is here along the outside rim when i get home from work today.)

to make your own strange, aslant map, i'd recommend a rough draft first.

then, tape out the streets so that you can get a healthy grid. (i centered the map on my house.)

also, feel free to measure proportions with your protractor from third grade.

i decided to draw a vastly incomplete map of harrisburg, as disproportionate as most bodies, and as strangely colored as my selection of paint would allow (the street color matches the mugs hanging from the door). it has some of my friends' houses (because lots of my friends live in houses i don't know about) and some of my favorite places to go. it's also the sort of scene that can be added to. while we're sipping tea, i'll hand you a sharpie, and you can help fill in the blanks.

the cost: $0 (kitchen table donated from favorite Roxy's waitress) +$17 (primer from the man who looks like benjamin franklin to allow for painting on crappy, verneer wood) + $0 (donated paint) + $3 (protractor and ruler set from the grocery store) = $20

and now, welcome to a segment we call These Persons Have Surpassed Me in which i catch wind of someone doing excellent work, and i want to tell you about them. today's guest is tributary, the combined efforts of my co-baristas-and-worthy-adversaries beth and kinsey rice. the Rice Style is very intentionally reminiscent of the soft folds of cabin life, irreparably nature-centered, and whimsical. you can see their work at local craft fairs and currently at the employee art show at the midtown scholar (next to mine!) this is my favorite design.