Marriage of Poetry and Design

Let’s consider this thirsty Thursday installment an overdue foray into the “marriage of poetry and design” I reference from time to time. I’ll light briefly on where I’ve been, and I’ll light equally briefly on where I’m going. Perhaps where I’m hoping to go…

Often I’ve mused often on the idea of homeness. Where do we find it? What does it look like? How do we know when we have found it? Is it within a building? Or is it within ourselves? Why are we willing – and often able – to make exceptions and concessions when it comes to our homes — financial, practical, psychological, and aesthetic choices — that we might, consider frivolous or unnecessary in other aspects of our lives?

I don’t pretend to have answered any of these questions particularly well. The DNA of our own homes is likely as diverse as the inhabitants. In our case, Susan and my homeness DNA, at least some significant aspect of home is a marriage of poetry and design. So, this leads me to a hypothesis. Might our home be a package of poems or stories that we create and tell about our family sanctuary? What would that even mean?

Susan and I sometimes describe our collaboration… as the marriage of poetry and design. That sounds a little glossy and overblown. Perhaps. The reality is less glossy. Lots of stop and start. Lots of disagreement. Lots of slow-won consensus. (Source: Pirouettes & Silhouettes)

Part of our story is that Susan is a designer and I’m a poet. Ergo our collaboration (and our romance spanning almost a quarter century) is a marriage of poetry and design.

But the reality is not only a little less glossy, it’s blurrier. Susan also writes, reads, and appreciates poetry. In fact, during those early days when I was still living in Paris and Rome, and Susan was living in New York City, she frequently wrote me poems. They arrived by email triggering my longing and fertilizing my love. They catalyzed my deepening desire and respect for the penner of the poems, incrementally revealing to me Susan’s strong but sensitive, and nurturing but adventurous character.

Timeless time is indeed a puzzle. An enigma. A mysterious commingling of eras, a layered lifestyle, a marriage of poetry and design. (Source: Timeless Time)

Susan’s degree from the New York School of Interior Design proves that she is the design half of the equation. And in many respect she is. But in those Paris days when I was developing and launching Maison Margaux, I was discovering architectural and interior design in real time. No degree. But a ton of real world, experiential learning. Do I describe myself as a designer? No. Does Susan describe herself as a poet? No. But after two dozen years together the borders have blurred and the cross-pollination is complete. We’ve learned so much from each other, and that continues to this day as we collaborate on projects on the Adirondack Coast and Santa Fe.

Although Rosslyn was not our first collaboration, it was the most challenging and the most rewarding. It helped sketch out the contours of our dynamics, though the way we work together is ever-evolving.

My favorite Rosslyn moments memorialize a marriage of poetry and design that pieces the puzzle together, that joins patches into a quilt, fragments into a whole, scraps into a book. (Source: Fenestrated Refinishing)

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The complete restoration [of Rosslyn] is a marriage of poetry and design between writer and green designer owners. (Source: Selling Rosslyn?!)

I’ll continue to explore this marriage of poetry and design with an eye to better articulating what guides me and inspires me. Several topics I hope to explore include cohesive design and design integration as well as landscape design, the poetry of design, and wabi-sabi. Don’t hesitate to reach out with any other questions or suggestions!