Exhibit A Through Z

The Gallery

photos, mostly damning, captions free of charge

Kitchen stencil horror

Documented in the field, mostly unwillingly. These are the photos I take while other people are proud. Every one of these walls was someone's idea, executed exactly as planned, which is the saddest part.

A kitchen wall with a repeated mushroom border stencil at chair-rail height

My kitchen, 2019–2026

The mushroom border that outlived a fern, a pandemic and my patience. Seven years of “getting to it.” Full obituary on the post.

A laundry room wall with a repeated bird-on-branch stencil

Ines's laundry room

Bird-on-branch, every 30 cm, for eleven feet. Even the birds look bored. Retired at the party, with honours.

A half mushroom stencil squashed against a cabinet edge

The half-mushroom

Where the border met the cabinet, the original stenciler just… squished it. The most honest moment in my house. I think about it daily.

A store shelf of identical carved wooden pumpkins

The craft aisle, every October

Identical wooden pumpkins as far as the eye can see. Not stencils, technically, but the same disease. Field report pending since 2025.

Freehand, before and after

The receipts. Every “before” in this section was painted by a person who thought they couldn't. Every “after” is fifty-ish repetitions later. The wobbles stay; they're load-bearing.

A wobbly, unevenly spaced hand-lettered lemon price sign

Before: lemon sign no. 1, 2021

Looks like a ransom note that gave up. Kept in the garage as a warning to me specifically.

A confidently hand-lettered lemon price sign with lively, slightly irregular letterforms

After: lemon sign no. ~400, 2026

Same word, same hand, 399 reps later. Todd calls it “the lemon thing.” It's the best thing I make.

A tired old mailbox with peeling paint

Before: the mailbox, 2025

Peeling since 2018. The neighbours had opinions before I even opened the paint.

A freshly repainted mailbox with hand-painted lettering

After: the mailbox, 2025

Final neighbour verdict: 6–3 in favour, which for this street is a landslide. The dissenters have been noted. In pencil.

The burn barrel of honours

Selections from four years of retirement ceremonies. Each stencil served, each was thanked, each was set on fire. It's a system.

Friends around a burn barrel at dusk retiring old stencils

Fourth annual, July 2026

Nineteen people, forty-one retirees, one barrel. Potato salad rated “fine” by one (1) witness. Full recap.

A large mandala stencil folded into a shoebox lined with tissue paper

Kayla's mandala, in state

Arrived in a lined shoebox like a casket for a very small bishop. Best eulogy of the night: “thanks for the chaos.”

A vintage brass alphabet stencil set on a paint-spattered workbench

The exception

The brass alphabet set, pulled back from the barrel at the last second and I would deny it under oath. Its story.

All photos mine unless noted (the party ones are my nephew's, thumb included, by policy). Colors are not color-managed, your mushrooms may vary. Want yours added to the wall of evidence? Send it in — kitchen horror and freehand triumphs equally welcome.