How to Hang Something Heavy on the Wall

When I see the hand-carved Victorian mantle piece for sale on Craigslist for $50, I know it will be perfect to hang above my bed like a headboard.

After sharing a bedroom with my partner for years, we've decided to set up separate sleeping spaces. We are actively practicing non-monogamy, and we need autonomous space. I am decorating a room that will be just mine.

I convince my partner to drive across the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin one night after work to pick up the mantle. When I see it in person, I fall in love.

Ornate and elaborate, four carved pillars center a wavy, aged mirror and bookend the rectangular piece. Carved by craftsmen hands long gone, two hand-wrought vases holding intricately designed wooden flowers flank each side of the watery silver. The previous owner tells me it was from a demolished brownstone in Brooklyn. She hauled it across the country.

It is big and heavy, weighing at least a hundred pounds. A monument to another time.

We tote it to the car, wrapping it in a blanket. He drives it back to our house in the City and helps me carry it to my bedroom. He states a boundary: he is done helping me decorate my room that will entertain lovers other than him.

It sits on my floor for a week. I like them big, but how do I hang this monster on the wall?

I go to the hardware store. The orange-smocked man points me to some special brackets that can bear the weight of heavy pieces. They disperse the weight across the length of the bracket. Physics.

The clerk insists the bracket must be installed into the studs. Drywall plaster will crumble, and I will destroy my wall if I don't install the mantle correctly. No pressure. He sells me a palm-sized device called a stud finder.

In that era of sluttiness, the name of the thingamajig makes me snicker like a 14-year-old. Stud finder. Yeah, I'll find the studs in my bedroom. Heh.

The other important advice is to ensure the bracket is hung level to the floor. It all sounds so easy when the hardware dude says it. 'Of course I'll install the bracket levelly,' I assure him. His eyebrows raise slightly when I say 'levelly.'

Back at home with tape measure and pencil in hand, I feel official. I draw some lines on the wall where the mantle will look good. I measure the middle of the blank wall where it will hang.

Lots of measuring. Line marking. I install one-half of the long steel bracket on the back of the mantle. So butch.

Stud finding proves slightly more complex. Partially because my Grindr app's quick staccato bamboo trill distracts me repeatedly.

I caress the wall with the palm pilot, seeking a pull of its magnet towards the steel shank of the nail plunged into the wood that is 'stud.'

When the magnet attracts its metal mate, there is a quickening. Then, a reverberating twang as the stud finder sinks its magnetism through the drywall to what waits beneath. The finder hangs on the wall like a gecko, allowing me to mark the stud's location. Got 'em!

Once the studs are located, the hanging commences.

The bracket is a long stretch of metal. It is the mate of the inverted V bar installed on the back of the mantle. The thing to do now is to slowly and accurately guide the top into the bottom. I promise here I am not being deliberately nasty.

Weight is an issue, I won't lie. Lifting the mantle high enough to easily insert itself would be better done by two, but sometimes you've just got to get the job done yourself. That's what hands are for.

I bend at the knee to get my body under the mantle's girth. Slowly, and from the knee, I hoist the wood higher and higher. Eventually, it clears the bracket. I settle it back towards the wall, nestling it into the groove. Once it's in, I'm afraid to let go. Will the studs hold up the piece?

Slowly, I back away, watching myself in the mirror the whole time.

---

If you’ve enjoyed this post, the best way to say thank you is to share the post! I’ll love you forever.