As exhausted as I am this evening, I had to put this post together. Many people have often asked what my home is like. They figure that since I have a store and work as a decorator I must have a lavish spread filled with "such beautiful things." Not so much. I've lived in the same apartment for so long now that if bore a child upon moving in I'd be the parent of a ninth-grader. Fortunately, I'm barren. But I do have a small, two bedroom, rent-controlled, comfortable apartment that I wouldn't dream of giving up. This in spite of the fact that I don't have parking and on winter mornings I can actually see my own breath in the kitchen as my water kettle whistles long past being removed from the flame. It's so cold in this place that I promise myself every January that I'm moving to Palm Springs. (The up-side is that I walk to work and can practically fall out my door and land in Golden Gate Park.)
Above are the test shots for the photoshoot of my kitchen. These secured a feature in the San Francisco edition of a Japanese book series illustrating kitchens around the world. Miki from Zakka Publishing, whom I have previously worked with on a couple other projects, contacted me and asked if they could photograph my kitchen. I said,"of course," knowing full well my kitchen (and honestly, all the other rooms in my home) is a work in progress. I told Miki that I had intentions to fix the cracking plaster, paint, buy a new table and chairs, rip up the linoleum, put shutters in the windows (god, I hope my landlords aren't reading this!) and finally get this place pulled together. Well, precisely what I had every intention of changing was exactly what made my kitchen so "cute and charming" to her. All that imperfection, or wabi sabi in Japanese, I guess. Loosely, it translates to "imperfectly perfect in a natural state." So to my embarrassment Mieko, the photographer, took many close cropped pictures of the cracks in the plaster along with the Spackle spread willy-nilly on the walls by my landlord to correct seismic scarring. She also closed in on gashes in the moldings where at least thirty layers of paint could be detected and the original redwood trim revealed. After taking about fifty shots of the whole kitchen, they proceeded to use the linoleum floor as a backdrop for some product shots. This is when I about fainted. That floor is the bane of my existence; never looking clean despite the toil of mop and unsafe chemicals. But alas, here it is. My humble little kitchen, scars and all.
The book is due out in April. Unless you have a Japanese bookstore in your town, you probably will never see it. I flipped through the second Paris edition which is already in print and it's totally amazing. The French know how to live, c'est vrai?! The Zakka team also photographed my store to complement the feature. Although this wasn't the first time my apartment has been photographed for Japanese publications, it's still a little strange to hear "what is the concept for your style?" I still answer, "um, comfort." Check out a few of my peeps, the other "creatives" featured in San Francisco Kitchens by Zakka Publishing.
Jeanine Payer: jewelry designer beyond words