Transformations

On HGTV, when a kitchen, front yard, or basement is remodeled by one of the telegenic designers hosting a makeover show, the climax of each show is the "reveal." We viewers are teased before every commercial break by micro-glimpses of the changes and statements like, "You won't want to miss the spectacular transformation!"

If I am listening to but not in the room with the TV set, cooking, cleaning or straightening up the house while the program unfolds, I stop what I am doing and make for the TV screen when the audio warns me that the reveal is about to take place. As the host rightly predicts, I don't want to miss the spectacular transformation.

What is it about seeing these makeover changes that is so compelling? Partly it is the satisfaction of seeing clutter and neglect removed from someone's living space. Partly it is the stimulation of seeing that color and design choices which I can afford are able to make a big impact. Partly it is the pleasant emotional appeal of the dramatic response that many homeowners have to seeing their dreams rightly understood and physically realized by the designer.

But I think that what draws me to these moments more than anything else is my love of transformation itself. Whether it is a style that I like or not, whether it is comparable in any way to my own needs or circumstances, whether it is for a family of eight or a single woman with a dog, the makeover exercises a fascination for me out of all proportion to its application to my own life.

I love vicarious experiences of transformation, like those I see on "Divine Design." I love to witness transformation. I love to contemplate transformation. I love to see transformation in others. But transforming myself is another story.

Although I sometimes think that I want to change (for the better, of course), in fact the process of transformation is usually difficult, uncomfortable, dusty, dirty, and traumatic. This is true whether the change is in a master bathroom or in the unfoldment of personality. Walls have to be demolished; out-of-date finishes have to be replaced; non-functional arrangements of elements have to be redesigned; what is underfoot has to be torn out; unexpected problems that manifest underneath the surface have to be addressed; old ways of doing things have to change; and traffic patterns get redirected. It's exhausting, discouraging, expensive, and disturbing. Halfway through, I think, "Why did I ever think this would be a good idea?"

I think that the HGTV design shows have the right idea. In these shows, expert help comes to the rescue. Whether the homeowner has a half-finished project, needs more hands on deck to get the job done, or simply needs fresh inspiration and a new pair of eyes to find a solution, the theme of the shows is that help is available. Sub-themes are that the helpers enjoy the process; transformation is clearly possible; and it is possible to communicate your dreams to other people in terms that allow them to help you realize them.

Most of these shows require the homeowner to do some of the work, both outer and inner. People who have never held a power tool go to town with a nail gun. Those who have procrastinated are handed a paintbrush and a can of paint. Doubtful beneficiaries are chaffed by a good-humored host into finding something positive to say about the process. Those who fear change are jollied into taking a chance on something new.

I like the idea of transformation teams. Instead of making changes in isolation, struggling alone with challenging ideals and looking in vain for encouragement, I am going to approach my next personal transformation as though I were a homeowner on "Design on a Dime." I am going to look for a couple of people to help me accomplish a transformation "for less than $500 in less than one day." From there I have hope of progressing to more sweeping changes where I am required to be more hands-on. Intentional transformation -- it's a beautiful thing.