The Narnia Desk

Sometimes, I get inspired.

About 10 years ago--when my parents were cleaning out their garage--they had an old desk. It was simple in design and not at all practical for a big box computer monitor.

I decided to refinish it as a writing desk for me. A place to compose letters--the old fashioned way--by hand.

I also decided to make it a piece unto itself--completely disconnected from any ideas about my decor. I started with a shade of blue that simply made me feel happy when I was looking at chip charts near the paint counter.

I knew I wanted a design on the front of the drawers, but didn't really feel up to painting it, so I found fabric with a subtle print--one that matched the paint color. I removed the hardware, dipped the fabric in starch, then smoothed it across the drawer fronts, stapling to the back to anchor. I punched a hole back through, then replaced the drawer knobs after painting them.

And that is where the whimsy began. When I finished the desk, it didn't seem right. After all, this was a writing desk. It was supposed to be about inspiration. I'm not sure what possessed me to cut up a beautifully illustrated book I had of the story of Narnia, but I did. I affixed the key moments in the story to the top of the desk, then began to embellish.

I went back to the store and found another fabric that was full of whimsey. I cut the angels out, dipped them in liquid starch--this was before I discovered Mod Podge--and anchored them to the desk. Then with a gold paint pen, I began adding beautiful words.

A bit of gold paint around the edges of the desktop and hardware, with a piece of glass to protect it all, completed the piece.

Ten years later, the "Narnia Desk" is still one of my favorite pieces of furniture. It is filled with paper, markers, ink pads, stamps and other inspirational toys. And though I haven't completed all the handwritten letters I had hoped, it does serve as the spot where I create and address every birthday card and thank you sentiment. In fact, I'm smiling now just thinking about it.
© Random Cathy
Maira Gall