art

Over many years of decorating apartments (and now a house), my husband and I have moved away from movie posters and inexpensive prints (though we still have some around the house!) in favor of funkier art that reflects shared memories, travels, and cultural tastes. We’ve collected original art created by friends, paintings by my dad, prints from Etsy artists, and family photos.

Today, I’m sharing seven tips for how to start an art collection and add more personal elements to your home. I’ve certainly bought pieces from big-box stores and websites, but now when I look around my house, I see years worth of memories and personal connections. Here’s what I’ve learned along the way:

Shop local: Coffee shops. Art fairs and street festivals. Open houses at art studios. Antique shops and thrift stores. Art is all around us, when you start looking for it. I’m partial to hipster craft markets and antique malls. Our favorite coffee shop in Chicago had a rotating selection of local artists’ work on the walls, and we found many pieces we loved, including the big piece from our friend Shira Ballon below.
Make it personal: If your dad is a hobby painter (which is true, in my case), ask for a piece of his work to put in your home. If your cousin makes lovely watercolor paintings, commission a piece for your dining room. If a friend posts pictures of their art portfolio, make an offer to buy some of their work. You should always pay your friends for their work, OF COURSE.
Do it yourself: There are tons of tutorials for how to create abstract art, oversized prints, string art, or other custom art for your home. If you’re even slightly crafty, try your hand at making your own art. Add your kids’ (very messy) paintings, and let them select some obnoxious decals for their bedroom walls.
Collect pieces while traveling and exploring: On our honeymoon, we bought a small drawing at an art market in London. On a cross-country train trip to the Grand Canyon, we snapped lots of photos of American landscapes. On a family trip to Ireland, we shot photos of funny signs, gorgeous misty landscapes, castles, and cliffs. Now we have art peppered throughout our house that reminds us of some of our favorite trips.
Go vintage: If you know you like a certain theme, subject matter, or style, search eBay and Etsy for vintage art that you might like. Or scour thrift shops, antique shops, flea markets, and auctions.
Redefine “art.” Abstract sculptural pieces, sentimental objects, kids’ finger paintings… If you like something visually and you can figure out a way to mount it to your wall, IT’S ART. My husband found some giant, rusty gears at an auction for about $10 and mounted them on some rustic wood panels. Voila! Art!
Take your time! We have pieces we love that we printed from photos in the last few months, and we have pieces we bought eight years ago on our honeymoon. If you tweak your collection over time, slowly and thoughtfully, you’ll discover your preferences with styles, colors, and more. This amazing narwhal piece below came from our friend Rebecca, who sells her work on Etsy. We bought it several years ago in Chicago, but I love seeing it in our house now.

When I look at the art on my walls now, I see stories, connections, and memories. But more than that, our art is about what we like, no matter whether it’s trendy or “normal.” I’ll add one more bonus tip: Get weird, and keep it weird. Art should be fun, and weird, and personal.

What are the stories behind your artwork and collections? And where’s your favorite place to shop for art? Tell us in the comments!

By Katie Colt

As an adult, I’ve moved a lot. I don’t mean a couple of times—we’re talking ten moves in ten years. Ten moves from permanent dwelling to permanent dwelling, with “permanent” to me clearly meaning “temporary.” These moves do not include transitional stays at family members’ houses, in hotels, or a month’s summer study abroad program. My twenties were nomadic.

Though there have been good, compelling reasons for each move (Cohabitation! Bigger place! BATS!), the amount of mental, physical, and emotional schlepping required to complete each transition really takes its toll on my well-being. This is most likely why, no matter where I end up, the following art takes up residence on the wall of the most central room in my dwelling: Don Quixote at home

There he is: Don Quixote, naked, on a ghostly horse, in all his semi-cubist glory.

He’s quite the conversation starter. Why he is naked—and why my grandmother chose to paint him naked—is a mystery for the ages. But his presence in my home(s) has come to represent an appreciation for goofiness, familiarity, and a connection to family that allows every place I’ve lived to feel like I belong there.

My grandmother Miriam was many things: a college-educated woman at a time when many were not; a marriage and family therapist; a beloved mother and aunt; a talented cook, baker, and hostess; and a skilled artist, taking classes at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago during the mid-20th century. Having loved Picasso and cubism, she started painting and emulated him, later creating gorgeous and bright abstract collages, which hung proudly in her homes and in the homes of those she loved.

As a child, Grandma Miriam toted me along to the Art Institute innumerable times, showing me Monet, Degas, Van Gogh, Cassatt, and Picasso. She took me to the theatre, painstakingly tried to teach me how to knit (it never quite stuck), and allowed me to practice all my ice skating jumps and spins on her parquet floors (as long as I didn’t crash-land into her glass coffee table or indigenous clay sculptures). Spending time with her proved to be the earliest, most immersive cultural and creative education I never intended to receive.

I’ve made choices that have taken me in multiple different directions, both in physical location and career path. Along the way, I’ve struggled to feel confident in my creative abilities, which were always at the center of my person. However my self-esteem has suffered, at least my sense of humor has not.

Every time I walk into my living room, whichever living room it may be at the time, I can’t help but smile at the painting’s colors, its boldness, and its brazen embrace of the absurd. And I think of Miriam, and her artistic vision, her priorities, her love, and the importance of pursuing creative expression. No matter how nomadic my future, it is comforting that Don Quixote will follow, nakedness and all.

Katie Colt is a daydreamer, a diaper-changer, a writer, a baby-wrangler, a composer, and a carry-out queen. You can follow her on Instagram and Twitter @katiebabyhorse for a mix of the magical and the mundane.

We’re asking some friends to share their answers to one question: What makes a house feel like a home? If you’d like to contribute to this series, email thesmartdomestic@gmail.com.