Squidgewood Manor

Originally a 900 sq ft bungalow in a somnolent, blue-collar neighborhood made up of folks who worked in the maintenace departments of Sandia National Laboratories or the University, it's slowly deteriorated into a marginal hodge-podge of minor criminals with pitbulls, retired children of parents-long-dead, and a few leftovers, like us, from days of yore when those who chose to remain childless and were satisfied with saving our money for other purposes besides bigger & better stayed on despite the influx of hoi-polloi. 

Self-designated as "Squidges," the interior, besides pragmatism, functions as an extension of our aesthetic and a museum of our lives. We each have a display case that protects some of our treasures.

Mine is somewhat "compromised" by one of Michelle's tableaus on top, but the ceramic rhinocerous and poodle-lamp were my purchases.

To the right is Aunt Ree-Ree's hi-fi. It's a rudimentary model, nothing fancy, a radio and record player. But the RCA Victor logo with the dog listening at the "megaphone" makes it a keeper.

On top, another collection. Let no flat surface go unused.

Michelle's contains some of her childhood stuffed animals. I rescued the descending leopard from a dumpster outside a private zoo.

I found the 1920s J.C. Penny chair in tatters in the student ghetto and had it rebuilt by the now-deceased Mr. Foster of Foster's Upholstery. Mr. Foster, along with his staff of two Native American men, were the restorers to the stars of Albuquerque. His inventory of exotic fabrics and incredible level of expertise -- he was in his late 70s then -- meant all the rich and famous brought their heirloom Louis IVX and other furniture to him.

The chair was restored with mohair wool at $125.00/yd, resprung, with its cushion newly stuffed and covers for the ends of the arms for a mere $500.00, at least 2/3 of which was fabric. It's hard to imagine how the man made a living. A bean pole, he wore denim overalls and looked for all the world like the gentleman in the picture below. 

American Gothic by Grant Wood

The purple cushion was a gift from architect-builder Erica Enyart, a collector of Michelle's serigraphs, one of which, Raised In Captivity, is next to Little Weasel.

Little Weasel, the painting above the chair, is by Vince Distasio. Michelle "discovered" Vince at the 1992 Southwest Arts & Crafts Fair where she too was exhibiting. The black sheep of a well-to-do East Coast family, he had an undergraduate degree in biology and a Masters in Political Science, both from the University of Notre Dame. After a year in Europe, he married a German woman and moved to Cuba, New Mexico where, in ca. 1976, when White people had to be out of town by sundown, Vince taught highschool biology and cowboyed during the summers.