With all this pesky home improvement I have seriously neglected my awesome day job: being an artist. I don't normally take time off my work like this, but we needed to get this old house liveable, move our gallery into new premises Chez Nous, and get married in Finland. The house is in order now, somewhat, and we are hitched, so it was about time to get the studio sorted out.
Luckily, as most of you know by now, N°21 used to be a crèmerie and has a neat little boutique downstairs, just itching to be turned into an atelier d'art. We loved our old rental atelier artichoc which had enough space for a big studio space and a huge gallery but those premises had serious downfalls: even after we got proper lighting installed, there were never enough wall sockets, no heating nor hot water. All rather essential for an all-year-round event- and work space. Even with a great landlord and good visibility, we felt like it was time to move on.
Before setting up shop Chez Nous, there was this teeny-tiny little detail to fix: a floor full of gorgeous turn of the century cement tiles dirtier than a loo at a lorry stop. Dominantly white cement tiles. Oh boy. After the closure of the crèmerie, sometime in the late 50’s to early 60’s, the shop front was used as a garage. Neglected and barely sealed, the porous tiles absorbed all the grease, grime and dirt for decades and were in a pretty grim condition when we got here.
We came to view this house on a warm autumn day and the light filtering though the frosted glass was just amazing. Even under a layer of dirt and grime, these century old encaustic tiles steal the show.
Normally, antique cement tiles would not be my material of choice for an artist studio for an array of reasons: they stain easily, are incredibly expensive to replace if damaged and difficult to keep clean if not sealed properly. But frankly, they were here before me, and if restoring and keeping these tiles would mean needing to take better care while working... so be it. Paint spills and drips are a daily occurrence in a working studio, but with a proper sealant and a never ending supply of wet-wipes, I should be able to manage any destructive bursts of creativity.
Having had next to no bother cleaning and sealing the other encaustic tiles in this house, I thought sorting this room would be a piece of cake.
Remind me never to be so naïve again.
These types of cement tiles do not really loose colour due to wear and tear as the pigment sits in the cement itself, but they do, however, loose their protective finish. After the sealant is lost, the porous cement is receptive to dirt that can be incredibly difficult to lift by using your regular household products. Take my word for it, Mr. Propre was a complete waste of time. In fact, any off-the-shelf cleaning product, no matter how specialised, had little to no effect on the greasy marks embedded deep in the pores of these concrete tiles.
Heck, even the old de-greasing agent made no visible progress, although it clearly got rid of something as all I was left after a good couple hours of serious scrubbin' was a pair of matching blisters on both palms and water as dirty as a sailors smile. The clearest results were visible on the border tiles that still had their original sealant. The centre tiles with a nice burgundy and grey pattern on cream white background remained stained and dull.
The tiles after a somewhat unsuccessful attempt in de-greasing them: the border tiles on the left cleaned out a bit whereas the tiles on the right did not react much at all to the scrubbing nor the de-greasing cleaner.
This is where a lesser (to be read: smart) home improver would call the professionals, but not me. No. I did, however, bully James to call a few friends for advice and soon had another product to try: a professional grade cleaner for cement tiles and marble. This stuff was PH neutral, smelled like lemons and came in a reassuringly boring plastic jug. By design, you were to brush the product on with water, creating a soapy foam that would sit on the tiles without drying for 10-20 minutes. In that time the foam would penetrate the pores of the tiles and lift up any dirt and grease before being brushed up and rinsed with plenty of water.
In reality this meant half an hour of intense brushing, letting the stuff sink in from anything between 30 to 60 minutes, followed by more rage-brushing, tears, and some more brushing and rinsing. I repeated the treatment twice and hated every single second of it. Although I could see the foam turn into a satisfying shade of Yuk! on each rinse, the achieved difference was near invisible to the naked eye after each wash. Needless to say, I may have been a bit underwhelmed.
I did spy some results once the floor had dried. The weather, although nice and mild for most parts of the year was not quite so warm and dry as it is now, thus prolonging the time it took for everything to stabilise. It seemed I had managed to remove some of the worst stains as well as parts of the old sealant that had yellowed over time. And this is where I decided to call it. More brushing was only going to start damaging these tiles and the dirty ones were clearly beyond rescuing, so I went to my local hardware store and bought myself a big bad roll of wood-effect vinyl.
Kidding. God… just kidding!
I decided to live with it. These tiles have been in place since 1910 and I don’t really need them to look now. A few are cracked slightly and others still bare the marks of the space being used as a garage… but that is fine. I never wanted this floor to look new, just less grotty and this is exactly what I think I have achieved here. After three coats of fresh sealant, my studio tiles certainly have got their mojo back, and in a way, so have I. After all, what is a cowboy without their horse, an artist without a studio?
|These tiles are not new but they got a century's worth of character to compensate.|
TO BE CONTINUED… Next time on the same atelier time, on the same atelier channel, I’ll be ranting on about painting ceilings as a shorty, French neighbours and dog hair.