Lately, I've been pondering....What is "home"?
Home can mean a house, an apartment, a car, a landscape. It evokes memories of times past and our dreams and desires. I still say I'm going "home" when I go to Montana, which I left in 1982.....
To me, my home is a container of warmth, memories, people who’ve visited, dined, grown up and loved. It has held some great parties, friends, food and children. It has held some hard times as well. My home has been a work in progress since I moved into it 22 years ago.
Most of all – my home is an expression of myself (and my husband). Not only does it contain memories, but It contains things – items chosen for color, texture, comfort. I choose each item I bring into with care, thought and careful consideration of expense, design, and purpose.
My most treasured things in my home are not the most practical. They are photos of my children, parents, sisters, ancestors. They exist in frames or on a digital frame. They sit on tables and on walls. They’re the measure of a long and meaningful life filled with blessings.
My obsession is color. I bring color into my home primarily through art. I used to find posters to frame at the National Gallery of Art, in Washington, DC, where I lived in my 20s and where I dated my husband. We would sit on the Capitol steps and walk around the National Gallery gazing in wonder at all the treasures our country contained – the seat of government in splendid surroundings, with free Smithsonian museums open to all.
But my favorite way to bring color into my home is through art, all of it created in my home state of Colorado. My favorite artist, Joyce Coco, showed me her home with huge works of art, color infusing the space thanks to her vivid imagination and paintbrush. One of my favorite early works of hers was a house, floating in a sea of color. No people, just the house. Her painting evoke her memories of being with her husband and raising their children.
That idea of home has obsessed me in recent years, as I grow older, lose a parent, my children becoming independent and moving far away. I hope they create their own version of home with someone to love, children, and meaning.
I yearn for items that are not mass produced in a factory, as most of our items once invented and produced (by hand) in this country are now made overseas. (My favorite holiday items are the stockings my grandmother knit for me, my husband and children from a 1949 pattern.) I yearn for the human touch, the imperfection of the weave, the wonkiness of a mug made on a wheel.
I invite you to bring into your home – or your friend’s or your child’s – something made with hands, not a machine. It will add richness to your life and will carry with it the memory of where it came from and from whose hands it was created.
Thanks again for supporting artisans around the globe!