There was a moment, today, when I finally realized what it really was about the design of interiors that fascinated me for so long: making homes.
Homes that support children and parents and friends and a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush. Home where someone cares, someone who loves you best of all.
Home is not a cardboard cut-out replicated from a glossy catalog.
It's a place that reflects the souls who live within. It's not staged or perfect or spotless or empty. A home is a place you can walk into and feel loved.
That is what fascinates me. How do we create this place, maintain it, allow it to grow; how do we make a home that feeds and helps fulfill the longings of the souls within?
There are houses I walk into that immediately feel like home. They are never spotless, but often tidy. There is a warmth that pervades the atmosphere.
"Here," I think, "people are loved and cared for and welcome."
That is making home. It fascinates me still. I love this, and I love the art of it.
That is making home. It fascinates me still. I love this, and I love the art of it.
