All of Our Art

Adam here…

A home without art is like a fair visit without funnel cake. Unremarkable. Lacking joie de vivre.

One of my fondest sibling memories is with my sister when, home from college, she would impart upon me her art-school wisdom. We would sit at our kitchen table and paint, her correcting my line or teaching me that mixing blue and brown was a far superior way to create a rich black. Art has always played a role in my life. My parents have art everywhere and consistently collected new works on vacation. They put me in art lessons from a young age — an anomaly for boys in our small, rural-America town. I would go as far as saying that my art background is the single factor that most prepared me for my work as a designer.

We are in the process of some pretty major home renovation planning — more to come on that. We only buy art we love. Here is some of the art we have sourced thus far — before demo ever begins.

I screenshotted this abstract from John Born and filed it away in my memory palace — what Amber calls my almost photographic memory — in 2023. John mostly works in ceramics. Painted on unfolded paper bags — I appreciate the role of texture. We will frame it floating to showcase the raw edges.

Mari Andrew’s “Zipper” has lived on my “I would be happy with…” list since I first saw it in 2020. Six years later, I finally pulled the trigger for our all-wood, Swedish-informed mudroom. Composed of metal and wire, a little bit of sculpture goes a long way in giving a home life.

For Christmas 2025, Amber commissioned a snail sculpture for me from Chris Condon. On his docket for this winter (commissioning requires fortitude), it will perch on the top shelf of an antique 19th C. French apothecary cabinet at the back of our living room.

Our son’s daycare art. When it comes to arts and crafts, our son applies himself minimally. In this instance, it panned out. Not too much, just enough. I plan to frame it by floating it on a large white matte. Should probably spray with a clear sealant to protect the color as I’m sure it was slopped on with cheap paint.

A pair of tiny Clark Derbes. Perfect to prop on a desk, in a window, or nested in a gallery wall. Hand for reference. I am ready for my gig in hand modeling if you are hiring.

Cynthia Greig’s phone looks like a painting but is actually a photograph of a phone that she white washes with paint before photographing. It lives, and will continue to live, in our daughter’s room. Particularly enjoy that the phone is disconnected.

Leslie Wortmann’s box ball also lives in our daughter’s room. In person, the detail is exquisite. Can you find the hiding praying mantis? Big fans of some adult pieces of art in kids rooms and then more juvenile works or their own art situated in tandem.

When Michael Swaney released these clay figures he made based on drawings his grandmother did from his own childhood imaginings, I was likely the first to inquire about international purchasing to the store in Spain. They said no. Story of my life. I politely asked that they let me know if they changed their mind. A week later, I received a note saying I could now purchase. I bought two from the store and two more from Mike directly — all equally and wonderfully weird. I am open to some of them finding other homes, but the owl stays with us.

W. Tucker does some quirky stuff. This airplane drawing is very small (about 4x6) and, after framing with a large mat to create negative space, will live in our son’s room above his new “big boy bed.” Why is airplane crossed out? Unknown. That’s the allure.

“SPF Gossip” by Ty Williams. Our son has named the trio Frankie, Peggy, and Margaret, but I think the middle one is more of a Lisa. This is a cool piece to nest in a bookcase or in a gallery wall.

The Museum of Infinite Outcomes in Knoxville just put these dream posters up around town — essentially a hotline to call and tell them about your dreams. It's the kind of thing that's just odd enough to frame and hang on a gallery wall. I DM'd them and snagged a copy.

A rock painted like a tennis ball. The ideal paperweight. By genius Elizabeth Saloka. Did you guys see the brilliant rocks she did in collaboration with Alex Mill yesterday?

This photo won the National Geographic photo contest back in 2015. This would usually be the kind of thing that would turn me off from purchasing the work — out of fear it would become ubiquitous or, worse, a grown-up version of a Lisa Frank folder. I would have been wrong. I bought this in college, and we never tire of it. It’s mesmerizing and everyone who visits comments on it.

Also going in our son’s room, we finally snagged this from Frankie Gardiner. The work feels light and humorous to me — the spirit of youth in painting form. Big fans of our kids taking these art works into their own homes some day.

Family photos are personal. For me, I prefer them used sparingly. I like a grouping on a table (a singular table) or an odd framed photo here or there. I prefer family photos to be a little less “on the nose”. More of an allusion to family rather than a literal representation.

Our son’s middle name, Porter, comes from his great-grandmother Porter Harris. She was a spitfire, full of life, and the room lights up when anyone tells a story about “Po.” When my grandmother died, we got a copy of this killer photo — Po, dressed in a fur-lined jacket and a bowler hat while smoking a cigarette on my grandmother’s back patio. Baller. It’s small — 3x5 — and we framed it in a double cream matte and a subtle white frame. We were adamant that the framing juxtapose a square aspect ratio on top of the rectangular photo. The result is quiet and heirloom-like.

For Valentine’s, I framed these photo strips all together from our trip to New York where we had just gotten our first round of ultrasounds back for our daughter Enid. I asked that the framer call once the matting was complete for me to write a hand-written message right on the matte prior to adding the frame. Framing hand-writing of any kind is a favorite.

A friend took this on a basic Fujifilm disposable camera last summer and just got them developed. Our friend group swimming in the mountains, it’s not a posed, literal representation of family. It’s a vibe. Thinking a tight frame with a thin matte. Overall dimensions no more than 5x7.

Now that I have two kids, “we don’t hit” may as well be our official family slogan. Part of the gentle parenting starter-pack, I wonder if a giant pink piece proclaiming “Mama Said Knock You Out” sends a subconscious message of aggression. I’m still mad it’s not mine.

Take a picture of each piece as you get it. Create a Pinterest board (ideally a subsection) under your home’s primary board and name it “Art.” Once complete, pin them to the board. For each piece you upload, add in the following in the description:

Name of work

Artist

Dimensions L x W

You then have a reference and gallery of sorts and can see all your art at-a-glance. Also saves you from the headache of pulling the piece every time you need dimensions.