A couple months back, I salvaged a basic coffee table my neighbors were throwing out. It was made of cheap, heavy pressboard covered in formica, with no interesting architectural details, but it was in decent shape. I already have a perfectly splendid coffee table, one which Boy-Morgan daringly rescued for me off of a construction site scrap heap during a recent visit and which I sanded and stained and varnished until it looked fresh and new.
Still, I thought there was probably something interesting which could be done with this other table.
Last night, I coated it in black acrylic paint. Then I decoupaged the top with a mixture of school glue, water, and twenty-one form rejection letters for Charlotte Dent that I've received from literary agents.
I coated the letters in varnish mixed with a drop of brown paint to bring the glaring whiteness down a notch. The effect isn't noticeable in these lousy photos (I'm still using the $20 Walgreens digital camera, and it's a good workhorse, especially outdoors, but indoor photos look pretty rough). Up close, it looks like they've been stained with coffee, or, in keeping with the struggling-author theme, with cheap whiskey and cigarettes and a thousand tears.
After the decoupage dried, I painted in a black border and coated it in varnish.
There's a possibility I spend too much time being self-amusing. I'm sure this also violates some rule of feng shui, as nothing says "bad energy" quite like keeping a whole bunch of form rejections always in sight.
Still, there was something heartening about getting some practical use out of those cursed letters. And it's a heck of a good conversation piece.
Comments
LOVE the coffee table. And I think there's something empowering about saying "this is what I think of your form rejection letters." Very cool!
I'm pretty sure you and I had been enjoying the fun drinks right before the legendary construction site scrap heap expedition. I still like the coffee table you rescued far more than this new one, by the way, but the new one has a certain perverse charm.
I wish I had better photos. Because in real life, it looks super-klassy.
My plastic animals need more friends, btw.
Now that Dan saw it there will be rejection letter furniture chic popping up all over Australia. Typical. (No one in that apartment is ever allowed to "half consume" a cup of coffee Dan. It's a nearly religious experience, I think.)
I'm hoping to start a wave of rejection letter furniture chic worldwide.
Glad to see the rejection letters going to good use...
And this is on a weekend. When mail services resume tomorrow, Australia Post predicts a complete breakdown in services and have called for the Emergency Royal Postal Kangaroos to be reinstated.
The major publishing houses have assured Australians that we will all be rejected, but have pleaded for patience. They have sought Government assistance in this time of crisis.
The Government sent them back a nice letter, thanking them for their submission, but explaining that their request doesn't fit in with their current aid plans. They wished them the best of luck with their future endeavours.
In the end, I think I'm just going to go with a simple yet eloquent LOL.
You'll be able to tell from the grinning corpse in the coffin.