Frames from our grandmothers houses

Many frames, for that matter. It’s part of our childhood, but it’s also part of the rest of our lives. There are moments that will always prevail in our memories and places that will never change, even when they do. The stories are there. The frames are clear, with vivid images, sounds and scents of that time. And that’s good, because it’s what we want, to go back and feel those moments once again, every time we return to our grandmothers’ houses.

Those frames are preserved in rooms, but also in corners. Many corners. Some of which were the main stage for simple play times. A set of stairs, for example, can shape so many sceneries. It can be a mountain, for foot soldiers or a studio for a photoshoot. Or a simple shelf to organize dolls in a specific order: just because. Those stairs are now modernized, yet they remain the same: a wood herringbone staircase. Same feeling, different time, same play time moment. It doesn’t change, ever.

Just like in our grandmother’s house, the room is always full. Gatherings are the key to nurture friends and family. Because that was the way back then, big meals and gatherings and conversations. Kids running, grownups talking and, somewhere in between, memories where being staked up in organized frames. They were organized throughout the stairs, or staked facing the walls that now have a bright wood paneling, making a smooth contrast with so many types of toys, from dolls to blocks.

But it’s not all fun and games. There are still frames that we all remember. Maybe we were standing still, observing. Or maybe there was a meaningful memory that made it that way: frozen in time. And those frames are made of the simplest things: before bed, when we brushed our teeth and stared blank to the patterns all over the tiles on the wall, now converted in wood textures that have the same effect on the eye; or the times when we sat at the kitchen bench and simply stood there watching carefully how she cooked, baked or thoroughly separated or shaped something for a cake or meal, and that bench is now a kitchen island with plenty of space to do exactly the same thing: just observe from a high (higher now) level.

The interesting thing about this project was its design. Because, when designing the whole house, from each room mood to every little detail, it was like designing something that was already there in my memory. A frame that I’ve known for my whole life, bringing back all those memories, those life frames that every grandmother shared with us, that can feel exactly the same, despite diverse experiences. Life frames that we all share, because of our grandmothers. Because we all have, at least, one special frame that preserves her memory. Until next time, Granny.

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