Making A Home
DORIS DE PONT
Director, New Zealand Fashion Museum
We have a dining table — an old kauri library table that we have had since 1987 — that can seat 10 comfortably, more very cosily. We live at the table. It’s the preferred sitting place in the living space for reading the Herald, drinking coffee, meeting — and eating, of course. It comes into its own on Monday nights when the children, grandchildren and all-comers come home for “family dinner”. I have a special relationship to clothes — through my career but also very much personally. For years my clothes hung on racks in old villas that didn’t have built-in wardrobes, even in this house for too many years. Then, in 2002, our friend, architect Chris Fox designed a wardrobe for me. It is a red lacquer treasure box with brass-toned whorls that pops out into our bedroom space and the glossy surface acts as a mirror for the garden outside. The doors concertina open to give me access to two levels of storage space with enough room for my shoes — did I mention that I also have a thing about shoes?
DAN AHWA
Fashion director, Canvas
When I got married two years ago, it suddenly dawned on us that maybe we should start living in a space that didn’t feel like a generic flat. Like most young couples on a budget, we settled on the most boring grey couch we could find at Ikea and a coffee table from Nood. We suffer from Peter Pan syndrome and still feel like we have some growing up to do, so in the past year we focused on making our home feel a little less juvenile. So we took a risk. It all started with a questionable vintage couch — a scallop-shaped corner sofa in pink velvet zebra stripes, believe it or not. Restored from the 70s, it was a radical departure from the grey bore we had previously but is the essential piece of furniture that makes everything else make sense. It’s comfy, too. We figured life was too short to come home to a dull home.
The sofa anchors everything else we have surprisingly well. Atop a Persian rug and surrounded by books and chaos, we wouldn’t have it any other way. The last thing we bought during lockdown was a leadlight drinks cabinet from the 1930s and that seems to have taken things up a notch too. We’re still trying. We’re surrounded by a lot of plants at home, and I suppose it’s an element that we can’t do without because we both love nature and being outdoors. Plants seem to inspire a lot of creative thoughts for me. Our home is an extension of our personal style too — surprising, bad taste — yet making total sense to us.
Home is where the heart is — and also the dining table, the fridge and a comfortable bed. Twelve creatives tell Kim Knight about the essentials that make their house a home.
NICOLA MANNING
Interior designer, Nicola Manning Design
A really comfortable and luxurious bed!
So that when you collapse into bed after a busy day you just feel comfortable and cocooned by beautiful linen and pillows and a quality mattress. It transforms a room — an upholstered headboard, a quilted comforter or velvet — it’s texture and comfort and colour. It gives you a sense of security and safety and being “home”. There’s nothing like the comfort of your own bed.
What really changes a house into your home are the personal touches — photos, things you’ve bought when travelling, an antique from a parent or grandparent, a piece of art or something in your favourite colour. Often, as an interior designer, we’ll ask, “What are you wanting to keep?” and we can use that as a starting point. You can design a space but it’s those personal pieces that transform it into a house.
JADE TOWNSEND
Ngati Kahungunu, mixed media artist currently exhibiting Homesick/sickhome at Page Galleries, Wellington
Te Ao Maori (Maori world) is the essential element and practice in my whare. A Maori perspective allows me to find exchange, companionship and joy in all things living and non-living — it is my most powerful tool. I perform this belief through my mahi/my artwork which happens in domestic spaces
— I have artworks in all stages of completion splayed from the fridge, to the kitchen bench, to hanging from all the previous tenants’ hooks. For me, home is a set of relationships. For the most part I can build, carry and access those relationships wherever I go, but there are some relationships that are unique to my nature and environment. I learn about myself when I am away but I grow when I am home.
PHIL BROOKS
Ceramic artist, currently preparing for a solo show at Milford Galleries Dunedin
I admit it. I am someone who loves a bargain. I learned from the best, as my mother was a gold-medal haggler. My 1970s house in Avondale is home to some of her triumphs, where they rub shoulders with my own small victories, unearthed in charity shops and antique markets.
There is one piece that vies for top spot, a beaded panel that Mum found in a backstreet junk shop in Kuala Lumpur, where we once lived. At over 2m in length, it comprises around 200,000 miniscule glass beads and depicts a colourful riot of parrots and peonies. She kept it rolled up in a trunk under her bed for decades until the arrival of my own (now teenage) daughter, when it was carefully framed and hung in her bedroom.
The essence of my home is not static. It evolves as my collection of eclectic bargains grows; the stories it carries are shared and it in turn absorbs the life of my own family.
DARIUSH LOLAIY
Chef, co-owner of Dominion Rd restaurant Cazador with his wife and maitre d’ Rebecca Smidt
We work long days and nights and our couch is a beacon of leisure when we arrive home. It was custom-made by Rebecca’s cousin at Forma Design and is big enough to accommodate the whole family. It’s a startling bright mustard colour and it almost fills our tiny apartment. Sinking into the depths of its cushiony embrace is our greatest pleasure.
We inherited some paintings from Rebecca’s great-uncle. His uncle painted them in Holland, where we originally saw them. Many of them hung in Bex’s grandparents’ house and to have them in our place makes us feel connected to our family and makes our little concrete bunker feel like home.
EMMA OGILVIE
General manager, co-owner of Bar Celeste on Karangahape Rd with her partner and chef,
Nick Landsman
Since we’ve moved from France to New Zealand it’s been a bit chaotic. We keep moving houses. In Paris, we lived in the same apartment for four years ... it had a good kitchen and an island bench where we could host while still cooking. I really dislike having to cook everything in advance or to be stuck away at the back of the kitchen while your friends are sitting at the dining table. Having an island or a bench with stools that is connected to a good kitchen is what we look for in a house. You could go on and on about the dream entertainment home but I think that’s the start of it.
I’ve moved between France and here so many times, I’ve never really collected tonnes of stuff that I’ve been able to carry around with me. Having a full fridge of food is definitely the one thing that I think makes your house feel homely. We’ve been quite busy this year, we keep filling it up and then bringing it back to the restaurant and cooking, because we’re never at home. It’s really sad. We used to go to our chef friends’ houses and they’d have nothing in the fridge apart from ketchup or some pickles and we’d always say, “We’ll never be like that ... ”