Interior plaster is your home’s complexion. Skin, surface, and face. Texture and innerscape. It’s where your art will hang, those little hands will smudge, and your visions will appear when you have a fever. When considering plaster, are we going as upscale as possible or, like a soulful song, do we want it to hurt a bit?

For some, diamond (finish) is a home’s best friend. I’m coming up with a theory about plaster. I think men go for the high gloss and edge of the diamond finish, the Porsche of plaster, the three-coat finale, the pure smooth of it. For women, we’re happy with cozy, and so I think there is a gender politics to wall friendliness. Guys love the craft involved in the diamond finish, a measure of their expertise. I like the brave and the bold in walls as I do in men.

Recently at a party I eavesdropped on a discussion of the legendary diamond finish. One man felt it was too slick, went against the adobe credo—you know it by now: “I will right no angles. I will slick no surface. Imperfection is my goal, and mistakes are soul.” I was cheering in the background because I agreed. Let’s hear it for the downscale, the charm that charmed me away from the Back East, the simplicity of the realest state in the union. I want to preserve what wooed me in the first place and converted me into a card-carrying New Mexican.

Take our Rental Number Two. Our fabulous builder Chimayo Dave McCormick and his Loyal Crew were plastering inside, well on their way to a vision of diamond finish. I was thinking, “When in the hell will this ever end? Plastering is the slowest thing on earth. It makes needlepoint look frisky. The money is running out.” It was the dog days of summer and they were working their tails off in the heat, spraying themselves and the walls with a little spritzer about every five minutes.

To read the complete story, please find Su Casa at your local newsstand or order it online here or by phone at 505-344-1783 or toll-free 866-256-4925.