A gentle guide to creating a home that feels alive, not decorated.

Welcome to my first blogpost. In this post I want to introduce you to my world, my philosophy around slow living, and my thoughts around creating an intentional home.

There’s a distinct difference between a house filled with things and a home filled with presence.

A slow home breathes. It carries the fingerprints of the people who live inside it — their rituals, their silences, their laughter. It listens. It remembers. It asks for less, but it asks for meaning. 

In a slow home, art isn’t decoration — it’s relationship.

What a slow home really is

A slow home values atmosphere over abundance. It doesn’t rush to fill corners; it waits until something truly belongs there - I have moved a lot, and every time I give myself time to live in my new space before acquiring new things for it - A slow home welcomes the imperfect — the uneven edges of a handmade mug, and the softness of linen that has lived a little. 

A slow home isn’t curated for others, but composed for its inhabitants.

And on its walls, art is not hung to match the sofa — it’s chosen because it feels right in the body. Because it says something that can’t be said any other way.

Living with art, not objects

Objects fill space.
Art opens it.

Objects are chosen to coordinate; art is chosen to connect.
Objects are owned; art is befriended.

Art has presence — the quiet kind that doesn’t demand attention, but changes the air around it. The way a textured surface catches morning light, or the way colour breathes differently as seasons turn.

When we live with art instead of objects, our homes stop being backdrops and start being companions. They hold stories, emotions, and a soft kind of courage.

Remember that anything can be art when it is made with intention, care, and longevity in mind. My collection of hand-made ceramic cups I have collected over the years are little works of art in themselves, the table my father made for me is art, and my beloved architects ruler, I inherited from my grandfather, is art to me. 

Why slow homes need art that can be felt

Texture invites touch. It slows the eye.
In a world that asks us to scroll faster, art asks us to pause.

The slow home is a place where tactility matters — where we choose the woven, the raw, the honest over the polished and perfect. Where a hand-thrown bowl or an intentionally made rug can hold the same quiet power as a painting.

Texture reminds us that we belong to something real — that beauty can be soft and still be strong.

How to live with art

Let your art breathe with you. Watch how light moves across it through the day. Rearrange it with the seasons — not to redecorate, but to renew the relationship. Let imperfect frames and uneven walls tell their stories.

Choose pieces that move you before they impress you. Art that stirs something wordless. Art that belongs to your rhythm, not a magazine spread.

Living with art isn’t about collecting; it’s about conversing.

The slow home manifesto

A slow home is built from tenderness, not trends.
It’s a sanctuary for the senses — a place where art isn’t separate from life, but woven through it.

To live with art, not objects, is to remember that we are not separate from nature’s making. We, too, are textured, layered, imperfect — and that is our beauty.

If these words resonate with you, I invite you to linger a little longer in my world — explore the textured paintings and prints I create for those who care deeply and decorate boldly, or join my tribe to receive my intentional letters about living with art, texture, and meaning sent conveniently to your inbox.