Being an inherently frightened person and having heard endless accounts of film induced terror, I never allowed myself to watch The Shining until probably five years ago when I decided I was missing out on an important piece of art in our culture and took the plunge. I don’t know what all the fuss was over; it is easily one of my favourite movies but it did not come close to scaring me, the easily scared. Not even a bit. There were no nightmares and no running-up-the-stairs-at-night-with-the-darkness-behind-me moments.
My favourite thing about this epic film: the pattern on the carpet in the hallway. I think about it at least once a week, I swear. Somebody reading this is probably snubbing me for not remarking on the obviously more notable triumphs of The Shining but my heart flutters for the interlocking honeycomb earth tone pattern adorning the floors; if we were chatting over drinks I’d ramble about how it provides a strong graphic visual ground against such intangible phantasmal subject matter, how this pattern is culturally revealing – providing a context of the society around this remote family lodge, and how it instills a strong sense of character to the lodge itself – particularly in juxtaposition to the previously existing older elements of the structure.
But that would be over analytical drunk art talk. The bottom line is that I am passionate about this carpet.