Painted white wood ceilings: White paint has been applied to the hardwood ceilings and large oak beams. Isn’t it a fantastic deal? I associate summer in the country with browsing through Vera Bradley catalogues. I’m sitting on my sofa… To keep my skull from bursting, I may need an Ace bandage. Why do you inquire if you don’t have to? You’re probably wondering why. I recommended to my better, wiser, and more beautiful half four years ago that we paint the ceilings white to fight the oppressive darkness, and she agreed.
My ceilings and beams are all rough-cut, dark wood. Despite the lack of windows, the natural light is pleasant and makes it difficult to see. There is very little light. The Master Bedroom, as seen in the now-famous “Ye Olde Sconces” picture and post, in which I complained that the stupid sconces I had installed didn’t function.
We thought that painting the walls a brighter, whiter shade of white would cure everything as soon as we realised we had a problem. The procedure was a shambles, yet it worked. I went into length about it in a blog post titled “Painting is no longer pleasurable.” Even though I’ve never liked painting, it’s never seemed like labour to me. We spent the most of our time painting the stucco going in and around all of the beams and wood. We kept telling ourselves that it would be simpler if we simply covered the floor with a sheet and sprayed the whole room.
The kitchen is like a black hole that drains all of your home’s positive energy. When you eventually discover the fridge after roaming aimlessly for a while, the food inside is terrible and tastes horrible. I may be exaggerating, but even with the large glass at one end, this room is rather gloomy.
My workplace is one of my favourite locations on the planet. It’s also where I attempted watercolour for the first time and failed miserably (“I’m learning a new talent”). In the room, I installed a classic Louis Poulsen PF5 light fixture. It looks fantastic, but it’s not very bright. (You read it correctly: stinks with a capital S.) It irritates me because you can’t tell it’s on unless you put a 200-watt light bulb in it (seriously).
Just looking at this hurts my back (and your eyes are probably hurting too…).
Should we begin painting the ceilings right away? It will make the place seem clean and new.
So, what happens if a hardwood ceiling is painted white?
…a dazzling white that like angel wings? When I put “white painted wood ceilings” into Google, I immediately discovered almost 12 million results that suited my requirements. But I didn’t need many to make my point.
Even if the windows allow in plenty of natural light and the view is lovely, you should focus your attention on the stunning ceiling. Even though the area lacks a dark ceiling, there is much to see and feel.
The image above reminds me of precise geometry, which I practise at home. The architect who designed my home was meticulous, as seen by the way the wood beams fit together and with the rest of the space. Yes, the ceiling must be painted out to make the most of the layout, which is now a weakness but might become a strength with enough effort.
Obviously, I miss the large windows and the setting directly on Montauk Lake. Even though I don’t have costly decorations or fine furnishings, I can see how painting my dark ceilings white might improve the appearance and feel of my house. Some may remark, “Your wood ceilings look fantastic; don’t paint them!” and I understand what they mean. From here, they seem fine, but when you go closer… I can tell you that they appear unclean, and that fifty or more hours of cleaning will not alter that. I tried using a feather duster once, but half of the feathers got stuck on the rough beams, so I had to start again.
Now I have another mess to clean up.
Who else has done anything like this before? …and tell me what I should do? I’ve painted a lot of ceilings between my house and other projects, so I suppose it was inevitable. Is it just me, or does painting a wood ceiling white make the space seem more open and airy? Yes, I’d want to see it.
