What Makes a House a Home
Designers, architects, and builders, plus the city’s poet laureate, a city councilor, a philosopher, and others weigh in on turning an adobe into an abode
“If I were asked to name the chief benefit of the house,” wrote French philosopher Gaston Bachelard, “I should say: the house shelters daydreaming.” It also shelters other things, obviously, but Bachelard realized—or at least seemed to imply—that daydreaming transformed the house into a home. What else, then, makes a house a home?
Robert Zachry
Robert Zachry Architect
I believe a house becomes a home after the owners apply their personal likes to an otherwise simple house. By simple, I mean a design that acts as a backdrop for the people and their favorite things. A truly elegant modern structure is simple and does not impose a particular “style” upon its people. I personally prefer modern furnishings, accessories, and art, but do not object to some traditional elements showing up in my designs. (Successful museums do this all day long and the building does not compete with the contents for attention.) I also believe people’s taste evolves and grows, and their homes should be able to accommodate those changes. I design houses, but the owners really make it their home.
Steffany Hollingsworth
Partner, HVL Interiors
There are so many mass-produced things at general retail stores that can fill up a space, but what makes a house a home is bringing things in that have meaning to you—things that are part of your past or someone else’s, or things you’ve collected that speak to you. It doesn’t have to be expensive art, but you want to find things that have some sort of soul to them. My husband and I have things that came from secondhand stores, or things we’ve traded for, or things we find and reuse and collect. None of it is very valuable, but these are things we appreciate and want to admire. They’re all things that are pleasing to us visually. I feel strongly about bringing elements of nature into a house as well—sticks or stones or old pieces of machinery can have wonderful texture. They help modern houses feel less cold.
Chris Calvert
Santa Fe City Councilor
Fundamentally, it’s the people who make a house a home. The people, their pets, and all the other stuff they bring to it that makes it theirs and the things they gather around themselves to make it feel comfortable: books, pictures of their family, things that personalize it and make it a home. It’s not all about the inside, either. People personalize their houses by the kind of plants they have, their yards, and what their yards contain.
Most people accumulate enough things over time, so it usually doesn’t take long to make a house a home. In Santa Fe, sometimes it’s different for people who have a second house here; what you often get there is more function—people have things they need in their house but not so much their personal possessions.
Victoria Price
Victoria Price Art & Design
My mother was an architectural designer, and from the time I was nine years old, we lived in her projects as she worked on them—moving every year. This could have been a hideous way to grow up, but it wasn’t, because my mother made each home feel like ours, even if we only lived in them briefly. First, she took me to the new place and showed me which room was going to be mine, and let me pick the color. Whatever I picked—for many years it was purple—she had my room painted and livable before we moved in. This taught me that it is important to set up at least one room right away. Setting it up, whether with new things or familiar old ones, is a question of transforming an empty space into a usable one that makes each person in the family feel as though they are “home” in some way. Home is never really about any of the material things that we put in it. It’s about creating a space that reflects who we are and how we love to live.
Judith Reeder
Co-owner, Allbright + Lockwood Tile + Lighting + Hardware + Bath Accessories + Fans.
Starting a design with something personal always creates a more home-like atmosphere. Having objects you love surrounding you, whether they relate to “decorating” or not, creates an environment that most people perceive as homey. You can walk into a well-designed space and know aesthetically that it’s a brilliant success, but no one necessarily wants to live there—it’s perceived as cold. So good design is only the beginning. Really, it’s creating a space for people that they love to be in. For me, that means being surrounded by beauty, books, the people and animals I love, and yes, a good kitchen. I love to cook!
In our own home, we surround ourselves with European antiques and American artwork collected over a lifetime, as well as our collection of Oriental carpets and books. Our color scheme, building scale, and wall massing are completely different from our previous homes, but some very idiosyncratic artwork and welcoming placement of furniture with framed views of the Galisteo Basin and Ortiz Mountains make our home definitely present in Santa Fe, and make it undeniably ours.
Sharon Woods
Woods Design Builders
Too often a home becomes the statement of the architect or designer. I believe a home can be, should be, and wants to be an extension and expression of its owner. As a designer, I try to facilitate this by questioning my clients to understand their priorities, needs, and, most importantly, their dreams.
In designing my own house, I am well aware of the unique elements that make it my home. First and foremost is light. I want my home to be full of light and draw the outside in. My home is my sanctuary and I want it to feel serene. I accomplish this by balancing its proportion and its palette. I want one space to flow easily into the next yet have definition.
William Little
Associate professor of French, Humanities, and Spanish, Santa Fe Community College
A “house” is just a building or physical structure. A “home” is the person or people who live in that structure. Years ago I was struck by the fact that in Europe—where, traditionally, people didn’t for the most part live in what we Americans think of as a standard house but rather lived in a “flat” or what we would think was an apartment or nowadays a condo—in many countries Europeans used the word in their language for “house” for where they lived. It took me a while to wrap my mind around the fact that a “casa” or a “maison” (for two examples) weren’t stand-alone “houses.” In other words, a person or persons settle into an abode of whatever sort and make it a home. How? It takes time and intentionality and habit and the will to express personal style either individually or as a live-in unit or family.
Katherine Blagden
Associate Broker, Sotheby’s International Realty
For my house, it’s a home instead of a house because it’s the accumulation of several generations of furniture and collections and it all has some special significance and meaning. I find it comforting to be surrounded by the vibrations and aura of these old possessions and collections of our ancestors (family portraits, photos, Grandma’s bell collection, old silver and wedding treasures, etc.). But what really makes my house a home is the heart that I cannot help but put into it—all the love I feel for my family and friends, and wanting to have and to make for them a special, comforting, and aesthetically pleasing space in which to retreat and recover from the world. As my husband Jody said, “It’s your enormous heart that makes our house a home.” Maybe that’s it in a nutshell.
Edy Keeler
Core Value Inc.
People who love each other is a good start. Beyond that basic tenet, a house becoming a home is fostered by design to support who the individuals and the family are, as well as who they want to be. Surroundings that don’t have to be perfect all the time to be beautiful. The creation is guided by their input, but with the designer’s resources and ability to weave it all together.
Kim D. White
Owner, Statements in Tile/Lighting/Kitchens/Flooring
Home is a sanctuary. When you step through the door from travel, work, or play—ahhhh, you’re home. Each of us creates a home differently. Some keep it simple or sparse, some fill it with treasures from across the globe. But in each case, the things that resonate with our soul define the look and feel of home.
Michael Zimber
President, Stone Forest
Making a house a home has to do with the people who are part of that home—and the ways their accumulated moments build into memories. We have three young kids, so our home is built around family life and what we like to do together. We love stone, so we have quite a bit of stone around the house.
As humans, we have a primal relationship with the natural world and natural materials in general. For whatever reason, they seem to have a calming effect on living spaces for people. Bringing natural elements like water and stone into the house and garden tends to enhance them as places of sanctuary.
Pamela Duncan
Founder, Wiseman, Gale & Duncan Interiors
To make a house a home you need comfort—and some degree of intimacy in the space. There has to be some place or places in the house where one feels enfolded, cuddled. Sometimes people are too quick to say they want a great big space, and then they never feel comfortable or at home there because it’s kind of overwhelming. If not the architect, it’s up to the designer to somehow create that intimacy, and there is no specific formula for that. How you get there depends upon the client.
My own home doesn’t happen to have vast spaces, except for the living room, which is large and has a high ceiling. To create comfort and a feeling of enclosure, I use soft fabrics, cushions, and colors. Colors like grays and beiges always feel soft. And then it’s nice to add color as an accent—what color depends on what people already have. I always try to work with collections or possessions that people love. But in Santa Fe, I like strong colors. Somehow the light seems to take color away from color, almost bleaching it. So people find that as they live here longer, they feel the need for more color.
Valerie Martinez
Santa Fe’s poet laureate
Loved ones, laughter, and books (especially poetry) make a home. I have lived in a variety of minuscule dorm rooms, a tiny ninth floor walk-up in Boston, a freezing-cold duplex in Lake Tahoe, a two-room concrete house in Big Bend, Swaziland, and my comparatively spacious homes in New Mexico. As long as these homes have been inhabited (for moments or days) by those I love, by the sounds of their belly laughs, and by the poetry books that have comforted me through every joy and tragedy of my life, I feel at home. Really, everything else is secondary.
