So, about this “modern rococo” stuff.
Yeah, I heard that phrase floating around. Sounded fancy, didn’t it? Like something you’d see in one of those glossy magazines I can’t afford. I figured, why not give it a whirl? See if I could make my boring old bookshelf look a bit less… well, boring.
First, I had to kinda figure out what “modern rococo” even meant. Rococo, I knew, was all swirly, gold, lots of shells and flowers, right? Super over the top. But then “modern”? Does that mean, like, clean lines? It felt like trying to mix oil and water in my head. Confusing, I tell ya.
I grabbed an old wooden photo frame. Plain, cheap, probably from that big Swedish store everyone goes to. My first genius idea was to just slather it with gold paint. Then I thought, ‘Rococo needs curves!’ So I tried to carve some into the wood with a kitchen knife. Bad idea. Nearly lost a finger and the frame looked like a dog had chewed on it.
Okay, plan B. I remembered I had some of that air-dry clay from when my niece visited. I thought, ‘Aha! I can sculpt some swirly bits!’ So I sat there, rolling out little clay snakes, trying to make them look like fancy flourishes. They mostly looked like, well, clay snakes. And sticking them onto the frame? They kept falling off or squishing into weird blobs.
I was about ready to chuck the whole mess in the bin. This “modern rococo” was beating me. But then, I was rummaging through my craft box – you know, the one where good intentions go to die – and I found some pearly nail polish I never used and a bunch of tiny, shiny plastic beads. Not exactly gold leaf and cherubs, but hey, it’s what I had.
So, I painted the frame with this pearly white polish. It was streaky, but I told myself it was “texture.” Then, very carefully, I started gluing on the tiny beads, trying to make some swirly patterns. Less carving, more sticking. I tried to keep it from getting too cluttered. Modern, right? Or at least, my version of it.
The end result? Well, it didn’t look like it belonged in a palace. Not even a modern one. It was a bit lopsided. Some beads were definitely not where I intended them to be. My husband took one look and asked if I was “feeling okay.” Thanks, dear.
But you know what? It wasn’t boring anymore. It was… something. It was my attempt at this fancy idea. Kinda like when you try a complicated recipe you saw online, and it doesn’t look like the picture, but it’s still edible, and you made it. That kind of feeling.
I stuck a picture of my cat in it. He’s a fluffy, slightly chaotic creature. I reckon he fits the “modern rococo” vibe of that frame pretty well. It’s still on the bookshelf. Every time I see it, I kinda chuckle. It’s a reminder that sometimes, just trying something new, even if you mess it up a bit, is the whole point.
