The New York Times recently featured artist Doug Aitken’s home in Venice, California and I’m crushing on it so very hard.
Considering that it’s been a good long while since I’ve felt that deep gnawing tingle of a hardcore house crush, I had completely forgotten how creepy it feels to suddenly catch myself randomly daydreaming about a total strangers home.
Please stop seducing me, Doug Aitken’s house.
Also, please stop making me want piles of these Constance Holt Bolivian frasada pillows and all of Jamey Garza’s leather furniture so goddamn bad. I can’t afford this stuff. I CAN’T.
Despite being deeply obsessed with everything Bolivian textile now, I still haven’t woken up as a person who can afford to run over to Heath in LA and grab a shitload of $400 pillows. So, I’m spiraling into madness and spending dumb amounts of energy looking to source affordable Bolivian blankets and such. The reality of the sheer volume of time that’s been dedicated to this endeavor would terrify and concern folks.
Good thing all that concentrated effort has amounted in exactly squat.
On the bright side? At least I know what my next six months are dedicated to finding. Thanks again, crazy brain.
I need so much Garza Furniture in my life (to fill up that deep dark needy furniture shaped hole in my heart).
Go ahead and quit trying to tease me with that sassy little poppy leg and peek of perfect leather. I get it, chair. I like you.
Wood. Windows. Rails. Work it girl.
We just started moving ahead with some big landscaping projects (like a custom gate and steel planters and so much DG) and I keep returning back to this simple little outdoor area with it’s casual succulent and cacti plantings. I’m totally going to so casually plant desert type plants all over my yards. I’m going to do that so hard.
Hell yeah I am.
Also, did you know that this house is also a musical instrument? Yup. Apparently.