A curator of eclectic details. A collector of purposeful things. My father's mother.
A mid-century modernist at heart, Joyce paints with a palette of neutrals. She turns, for the most part, to brass, wood, black, and cream. But her true guiding rules are purpose and taste, not rubric or brand, so she never shies away from a pop of color where it fits.
Joyce appreciates the imperfections of hammered brass and speckled ceramics. A mirror should be tarnished by time; a basket, woven by hand. Imperfections add character, and Joyce’s home is a story—meant to be filled with originality, singularity, and spark.
Every object is a chance to be unique.
“I like to have space to spread my mind out in”
Joyce fills her home with tiny details (a brass bird here, a pressed flower there) because in those details, there is life.
Neutrals naturally declutter, freeing Joyce to fill her home with the common-yet-uncommon items she loves to collect. Joyce gravitates towards these simple objects because she sees beauty in the mundane. She listens to the story an object has to tell—Who owned it? Who sold it? Who made it?—and assembles these fragments of life into her own unique mosaic.
Joyce is a traveller. She lived in Saudi Arabia for ten years and spent much of her life adventuring throughout Asia. Like a true romantic, she subsumed its aesthetic into her soul. Arabesque patterns and small souvenirs wind their way through Joyce’s home. From Moroccan baskets to Japanese brass spoons, Joyce’s present space brims with stories from her past.
Joyce collects with intention, methodically gathering objects that tell uncommon stories and curating them with sophisticated ease. Joyce owns a bar of soap from every hotel she's visited and a broom from every country she's traveled to. She has a wall of rugs and a coffee table made of pottery shards. Joyce looks at the world differently and it influences her space. Where others might see mundanity, Joyce sees an opportunity for art.
Joyce is a ceramicist and gardener. Her home is full of artwork and living things. Unique vases and bursts of green brighten every shelf, and even the tools she uses appear curated. Joyce has always been drawn to hobbies that require patience and attention because she strives to live intentionally, with purpose and serene delight.
“The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) of which we have no inkling.”
This is what I want.
Here is who I am.
Joyce knows exactly who she is—and she isn’t afraid to make her personality or preferences known. She is blunt and straightforward in life, and she expresses her thoughts in both conversation and art. The rooms of her house hum, from every corner, “This is me. This is my story.”