Years ago, when I was a hopelessly romantic teenager who watched way too much TV, I dreamed of meeting the perfect man (which I did: you're on his art website now) and that we would wear matching, knitted, aqua sweaters. In public.

You know -- Matchie Matchie.

Well, that was an immediate no-go as my Norwegian Artist, like many reasonable men, was horrified at the thought of being Tweedledum to my Tweedledee. Matchie matchie repelled him, not only in clothing choices but in home decor as well, and what he wanted regarding the latter was a reasonably clean environment (we wound up having four kids) that was comfortable and filled with items of meaning to us -- my Polish teapot, which doesn't match anything; an old oak buffet table that, unlike box store furniture, improves with time; and, because he's an artist, paintings of beautiful places and scenes, the kind of art you enter into and make a story about, one that features you as a central character.

It's Normal to Be Different

Fortunately, because I was raised by normal, unpretentious people and my television addiction ended long before HGTV, I saw the sense in this. Over the course of 35 years, the Norwegian and I have not worried about establishing a strict neutral palette with an approved Pop! of color here and there. (By the way, this Fashie-fashie Colorless Crush was not in vogue 35 years ago, the mandated hues then being blue, I believe, which will eventually come back "into fashion" when the Home Interior Design Industry decrees that it is so. Of course, if people spent less time absorbing TV dictates on what their homes should look like, and more time actually living in their homes, then they would not feel obligated to constantly renovate their personal environment to mimic staged studio shots in a magazine.)

Nothing really matches in our home, but neither is the decor oddly out of sync -- a Victorian fainting couch next to a director's chair, say. (Although if that's what makes someone happy, then for God's sake, let them be happy.) Most importantly, our home is not the reflection of somebody else's tastes -- featuring the full line of their home decor products -- with seasonal variations -- as seen on TV.

Our house is our home, unapologetically reflecting who and what we are.

Surround Yourself with Meaningful Items

The image to the left is Steve's painting, Polish Pottery, which features that teapot I mentioned.  Now if our home "colors" were cobalt blue and white, it would fit in perfectly according to Home Decor Industry standards (except for the fact that it's colorful, which does NOT fit into the present day rules), but whatever home colors we have circulate around sage green and warm terra cottas, which we just sort of fell into because we liked them.

And so it should be with any home -- surround yourself with the things you like, recognizing that they are far less important than the people you love -- and everything falls into place. (Polish Pottery, the artwork, is available as an original painting on this website, as well as a print, and image on products, at Steve Henderson Collections.)

Normally, I enjoy staying in hotels - it's fun to pretend to be pampered because someone else cleans the bathroom. But a recent hospitality stay left me questioning the experience.

The place was new -- crisp and "modern" -- its businesslike facade hiding that behind the contemporary aura is an essential cheapness.

The turned-down beds, consisting of white sheets, undersized pillows and a flimsy layer of dark fabric pretending to be a comforter, exuded an air of austere sternness. The black resin desk and end tables -- you see these at box stores, marketed toward college students --  reinforced that this room was no place like home, at least no home I want to live in. (Sadly, judging from design magazines circulated through the licensing industry, it's the type of home we're being prepared -- through TV, through movies, through advertising, through peer pressure -- to accept. Will we?)

The color palette was dark blue, charcoal, and slate grey, and the "artwork," true to the dictates of the home design industry, matched the rug. If they had cut out a rectangle of carpet and put it behind glass, they couldn't have done better.

In short, whoever designed the place did a remarkable job of replicating the office cubicle. Which makes me wonder, who designs this stuff, and why? And more important, why would anyone pay money to sleep in an office cubicle?

Minimalist, impersonal, stark, cold, lacking any sense of texture, warmth, color, or personality, the decor of the corporate world is not designed for human beings, but drones.

It's something to think about.

Artwork Is So Much More Than Decor

Because we live in a corporate global economy with a religious fervor to sell us stuff, all the time, artwork is reduced to its lowest state, that of a decoration or knickknack that happens to hang on the wall. And because it's just a knickknack, its principal purpose is to match the rest of the room, which is where we get that tiresome maxim of the home design industry, "Match the artwork to the rug!"

But art does so much more than that, when we look for work that is painted with emotion and soul, by an artist with emotion, soul, and skill. Art invites us into a world of beauty, and by encouraging us to view that beauty, reflect upon that beauty, and dream about things that could be as we walk away from the lies and seek out the truth, art shows us something that we're in danger of forgetting: life is not meant to be lived in an office cubicle.

(The image to the left is Light of Zion -- take a moment to pause, and gently let your eyes run over it. Join the woman in the image as she walks -- almost floats -- through an incredibly beautiful, rugged landscape, amazingly, with heels. How does she do this? My own story sees her as walking through life, transcending its difficulties by grace and a dependence upon a higher power who is the Father of all mankind. Your own story will be different -- but the painting, unlike a movie in which everything is set up for you to follow and accept, invites you to ponder, wonder, dream, imagine, and think. Light of Zion is available both as an original painting at Steve Henderson Fine Art as well as a print, and image on products  -- like coffee cups, yoga mats, and phone cases --  at Steve Henderson Collections.)

This post is linked to Family Fun Friday, Share Your Style, and Sharefest.