When you’re alone in this space, what’s the thing you do that no one else knows about?
I’m a chronic re-arranger. If I sit and stare long enough, something will move. Nothing is in the same place it was when these photos were taken. There is no piece of furniture I won’t move by myself because my toxic trait is never asking for help. Ever.
If you could live as one of your objects. Which one and why?
My disco ball in the kitchen. I won it at an auction, hung it, and had it wired to spin. It isn’t perfect - there are broken bits - but old disco balls have a patina you can’t fake. In the morning, sunlight pours through the skylights and turns the room into an early-morning nature disco. It feels alive.