I read recently that chalkboard paint is a trend that is now past its prime when it comes to interiors. Sorry trend-watchers, but I beg to differ. Chalkboard paint is here to stay. It has all the right elements: vaguely bohemian, chic-ly black, and best of all, totally functional. An entire wall of our kitchen is dedicated to chalkboard paint, including the space between the refrigerator and the wall, though no one has managed to squeeze into the 6-inch space to write anything there (of course it’s just a matter of time before my 2011 resolution-related diet does the trick and I make my way into the space). The rest of the wall is put to good use. It even functions as a wordless message board. This is the image greeting me a few weeks ago when I returned home:
Translation: I have taken your two sons into the woods to look for a Christmas tree.
My husband does not leave me notes detailing his whereabouts as a general rule – I think he finds it too confining, too domestic – but the chalkboard wall is just compelling enough for him to actually be motivated, however crudely, toward communication. I think it stirs in him some latent genetic connection to his cavemen brethren, to those glorious days of clubbing and spearing and roasting over a fire, recording anything of note with a chunk of fire-blackened wood and a wall to write on.
I was gratified to see that, in spite of what others may say, chalkboard walls are still haute enough for the beautiful people, as chronicled in that self-conscious arbiter of style, T Magazine. (Yes, that is only the letter “T” in the magazine’s title.) A recent issue featured a fine-featured Russian model creating works of art on her own personal chalkboard wall. I know what you’re thinking, and no, that is not me in the following photo. It’s the Russian model. Who could no doubt fit into the six-inch space between our refrigerator and the chalkboard wall in our kitchen. Maybe I’ll invite her over, and we could have an art-off on my chalkboard wall.
See how this works? Chalkboard walls are the stuff of dreams, inspiring hope where none had been before. And I’m hanging on to mine, no matter what the whims of the decorating gods dictate.