"Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile"

— Shakespeare's Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act I Scene i, Spoken by Berowne
 
Remember that terrible chandelier hanging from our middle room? The scourge of the 70s-80s? The blinding glass shame? The fixture that would be great if I were hosting a reenactment of Empty Nest.

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Okay, actually that sounds like a really fun party plan, I might do it. Regardless, it felt like cocaine had been snorted off of every prism or we needed a vinyl tablecloth and get fabric striped wallpaper.

Let's revisit our poor chum.

If you looked straight into it, it was like looking into the heart of the TARDIS which we all know messes with your head and can be really bad for any resident Daleks.

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For months I pinned ideas and fantasized about the lighting in my dining room/library. This is the room that houses my favorite pieces; all of my bookcases, the mid-century dining table that belonged to my grandmother, and the Jon Hamm bar all live in there!

And then one day, the husband and I had a rough weekend financially. Sometimes these things happen, a check gets deposited three weeks late, and then another and then another. Which, yes, was poor planning on our part but that's a whole different kind of tale. The point is, it was a few days until payday so two poor newlyweds would not be embarking on any kind of expensive DIY. But I needed to do something productive, anything to pull myself out of the cavern of self-loathing.

I tried my first idea, a Chinese lantern. A plain old, white round lantern. There are no photos of these attempts, by the by, because they failed pretty spectacularly. I removed all the of the glass prisms, all 16 of them and then attempted to shimmy the lantern around. The skeleton of this light fixture is to spokes of rods which are just the right length to tear a whole through the paper of a lantern. Sigh. I pretty much knew that would happen, but I was trying to prove a glass half-full hope. So, into the recycling with the torn up lantern.

The fixture is wired in such a way that it would take a hell of a lot to remove it from the ceiling, if you're wondering why that never happened. The joys of home renter-ship.

The poor husband heard me curse for awhile and tried to watch the MLB network around it.

Then I decided to put all of the prisms back on, which has to be done in a methodical way or else it leans precariously to one side, scary! Then I pulled out a roll of drawing paper. I tried to circumnavigate the  fixture. This also resulted in many curses and a few wobbly moments on the step-ladder. Enter husband, Dining Room Left. We fought with the paper, trying to get a sense of the length it would take to enshrine it. I thought to myself, I will draw things on the paper and it will shine through like stained glass! But the paper ripped, again and again. And the foul language continued. I decided to go back to organizing our books into LCC as a distraction. I must do something! I muttered through gritted teeth.

I happened across a tattered copy of Romeo & Juliet. To be honest I'm not sure to whom it belonged, he or I. Because I have a gorgeous complete works tome that I treasure I was about to toss the paperback into the pile to go to The Book Thing (a decidedly small assemblage as you can imagine). As I handled it I realized it was a rather narrow book, compared to it's height, not unlike the blasted prisms from the chandelier. 

The lightbulb in my brain went off (har har). I reached up and grabbed on of the prisms. The page was just a little short, but not unappealingly so. If they were all at the same length, it might even look purposeful. I began to run around the house for supplies. Poor DH had no idea what was going on as roadrunner careened up and down the staircase. 

My collection of materials was slight, a utility knife and a smaller calligraphy pen. I do not have a single hole punch, which might seem like the way to go, but even if I did I fear the holes would be too large.

I began by removing as many pages from the binding as I needed. The book was, as I said, pretty beat up so holding it flat open was easy. The point of the knife I pushed into the glued binding and a nice steady straight cut. Boom! Freed pages. 

When I experimented with the first page I wanted to make sure I was comfortable with the hole being a in an easy place to replicate. I went with the first line of text, beneath the Running Head. So I skewered as many pages as need and hung them with care. 

Because I left the drops on the paper is safe isn't a fire hazard (I'm pretty neurotic as it is, the last thing I need is The Towering Inferno in my dining room).

Et, voila!

 

 

Total price of project: $0
Duration: 10 minutes (maybe)

We are having our housewarming party this weekend (A Hobbitous Housewarming) so I can unveil it to my friends and family, yipee!

I suppose I could have used a quote from R&J  to title this, but everyone already knows that one so where is the fun? I might end up using different pages, books, authors, etcetera but I'm loathe to tear apart another book.

Speaking of the play, DH ended up doing an interactive version of it at the Renaissance Festival this year. If he's good I will only upload it to Facebook...