Is your home telling the right story? - La Gazette #21
Art doesn’t just fill a space—it reflects who you are, and who you’ve been.
photo: Melissa Larsen. Art that tells her story.
You walk through the rooms, tracing the edges of old dreams. Some still fit. Some have faded. But the house remembers.
Hello dear friend,
There’s something strange about adulthood: we fill our homes with things, and yet they can still feel empty.
We buy furniture, hang cheap prints, arrange shelves. But sometimes, even with all the right pieces, the space feels… off. Like it’s missing something essential. Like it’s not quite us.
I’ve noticed this most clearly in the homes of close friends—those who live with art that speaks to them. Their walls are not just decorated; they’re expressive. When I’m invited in, I feel as though I’m entering a conversation already in progress. The paintings they’ve chosen reveal something intimate: a memory, a mood, a way of seeing the world. It’s not unlike scanning someone’s bookshelf and recognizing a kindred spirit. You begin to understand who they are—not just by what they say, but by what they live with.
Some of my own paintings live in those homes now. And when I see them nestled into someone’s life—above a dining table or a couch, catching the afternoon light—I feel a quiet joy. It’s not just about being collected. It’s about being understood. It’s about knowing that something I made is helping someone feel more at home in their own story.
Because that’s what art does.
It bridges the emotional gap between who we are and how our space feels.
It turns a house into a home—not by matching the couch, but by matching the soul.
“I was without doubt... Marion’s painting, ‘Summer caught in the branches’, was meant to be mine!
Now, as we sit around our table, gathering friends and family for meals and memory making, Marion’s sublime artwork delights, surprises and sparks curiosity and conversation.”
And then something even more beautiful happens.
The home, once a private nest, begins to open. It becomes a place of welcome, of shared stories. When a friend steps inside and sees the art on your walls, they’re not just admiring your taste—they’re witnessing your trust. You’ve let them in, fully. No sterile meeting ground, no curated performance. Just the quiet truth of who you are, offered without defence.
I’ve felt this deeply in the homes of those I love. Being invited in feels like entering someone’s memory, their rhythm, their emotional landscape. It’s generous. It’s vulnerable. And it’s how we know we’re truly friends.
If your home feels a little too quiet, a little too curated, a little too distant from who you really are—start with one piece. One painting that speaks in your voice. One image that remembers you.
Here’s how to choose it:
• Look for colours that feel like your seasons—your river walks, your childhood kitchen, your favourite hour of light.
• Choose a piece that makes you pause. Not because it’s trendy, but because it feels familiar in a way you can’t quite name.
• Ask yourself: Would I want it to whisper my story when I’m not there to tell it?
If you’re ready to let your home speak in your voice, you can explore my available works, or reach out to begin a commission that reflects your story.
Let your walls remember you.
Let them hold the warmth you’ve carried all these years.
And let them welcome the ones who matter most.
Thank you for reading.
Warm hugs,
Marion V-W.