Before Hurricane/Super Storm Sandy hit, I had the pleasure of attending several studio tours in my new hometown of Warren, RI. Twice, I dropped in on the studio of Pat Warwick who creates one-of-a-kind ceramic surfaces.

If you're a New Englander, you may recognize Pat's embossed ceramic tiles which depict elegant sea creatures and insects set in simple white tiles. I did. A couple of years ago my sister-in-law picked up a fish tile by Pat in Woods Hole as a gift for us. Then, this fall we received the tiles shown here (on our kitchen counter) as a gift from our art-savvy realtor, Paula Silva. Just lovely.

So I jumped at the chance to drop in on Pat's studio during the recent Warren Walkabout and ART Night Bristol and Warren. The great thing about a studio tour is it shares much of the appeal of a house or garden tour. It offers a rare opportunity to glimpse how someone has shaped their environment to suit, reflect, and enhance who they are, who they want to become, and how they choose to interact with the greater world. Of course, the added advantage of the studio tour is that a piece of the artist's unique world, their work, is generally available for purchase.

I'm already scheming how to incorporate some of Pat's work into my own home, and how her work might make for a nice accent as a backsplash in a client's powder room.

Check out open studios in your area for insight into your local artists and their work. This weekend consider attending open studios at Holliston Mill, in Roslindale, and Waltham Mills. 

by Katie Hutchison for House Enthusiast

I can spot a winner. True, former winners often repeat, but still, I called this one early in the summer before it  blossomed into its full award-winning glory.

See all of this year's winners in the Salem Gazette (print edition), including the box above at 188 Derby Street created by Claire Bailey. Well done. I've featured the fruits of Claire's labor in previous years, as in this design snapshot from the House Enthusiast archives. Another stunning entry from a previous year resembles this year's third-place finisher in the Business Window Box category. (Not sure if they're the same location.)

Congrats to those who repeated and to those who secured first-time wins. Victory certainly smells sweet.

by Katie Hutchison for House Enthusiast

Crafted detail on the West Tisbury HouseMaine architect Will Winkelman writes in the August issue of Maine Home + Design about the essential collaboration between craftspeople and architects in creating well-crafted homes.

Winkelman notes that craft "can add an entirely new dimension." Indeed. He writes, "The addition of a layer of craft to a project furthers the project's narrative, giving more depth and character, furthering the story of its 'place'." How true.

It's well-crafted details and moments that speak to our desire to live a well-crafted life. This is the sentiment behind Alain de Botton's The Architecture of Happiness, too. Quality craftsmanship can be perceived as a form of beauty and as such can reflect back to us the kind of life we desire, where such care, thoughtfulness and artistry are at home. It's why the collaboration between craftsperson and architect is vital to creating a home that resonates with those who encounter it.

When a home sets my heart aflutter, it's often the craftsmanship of the architecture that's sparked my reaction. Let's continue to promote craft in the craft of architecture.

by Katie Hutchison for House Enthusiast

photo by Michael Piazza, courtesy of edibleBoston (rotated by KHS)In the spring 2012 issue of edibleBoston, I stumbled upon a mouth-watering photo (by Michael Piazza) of Necco Wafers. The very thought of Necco Wafers may be enough to transport you back to a simpler time. Seeing them, nearly life-size on the page, is sure to trigger your inner time machine. Somehow, I’d forgotten -- or never known – that NECCO stands for New England Confectionary Company. So, today, I write about an inspirational New England treasure of a different sort – not an antique building, a hardy pocket-garden, or a copse of crooked scrub oaks. No, today, I sing the praises of artificial food coloring.

Yup, those Necco Wafer colors are fantastic. I’d love to see them transformed into a paint palette of rich brown and stark white with accents of faux licorice and purple-blue. Or, maybe, tempting orange and stark white with accents of faux licorice and refreshing green. Or, perhaps, tangy yellow and stark white with accents of girlie pink and tempting orange.

In the edibleBoston article, Irene Costello writes that in 2009, NECCO “replaced the artificial colorings in the classic Necco Wafer with natural dyes. Their loyal customers hated the muted colors and vehemently demanded the vibrant albeit fake colored wafers back.” Sounds like the New Coke/Classic Coke debacle. Classic is generally best; it just depends what you mean by classic. I’m with the loyal customers. You?

by Katie Hutchison for House Enthusiast

Wicker in my parents' summerhouseAvery Corman’s “Moving Through Grief, Chair by Chair” in last weekend’s New York Times touches on our unique relationship to the furniture and furnishings of the lives we hold dear. Corman writes tenderly of his late wife’s talent for finding and selecting the things that outfit their country home, their New York apartment, their friends’ homes, and the homes of those who were patrons of her shop in Bridgehampton, N.Y.

Though Corman is the author of the novel Kramer vs. Kramer, he and his wife were happily married. She died in 2004. Corman “nearly remembers” where she acquired each piece of wicker furniture, quilt, and pillow. Each had a story, her and his story. Of course, we are more than our furniture and furnishings, but they do reflect the lives we’ve opted to embrace.

I remember when my husband and I were a young, unmarried couple, living together in Rhode Island. Money was tight and our budget for furniture and furnishings was minimal to non-existent. I had grown up with my mom’s favorite wicker furniture -- on the family porch in the summer and then in the family breakfast area off season. I’d taken a liking to the informality of wicker; plus, it was more economical than many other furniture options. When my then future-husband got wind of my intention to hunt for some wicker furniture, he informed me, in no uncertain terms, that there would be no wicker in our house. Since he was typically more concerned with boats and boat gear than domestic décor, and rarely one to declare a non-ironic rule, I found his no-wicker edict charming. It became one of our pet jokes. I would taunt him with catalogs depicting fussy white wicker dressed up with floral cushions, and tease that I was placing an order. But to this day, no wicker has darkened our home’s doorstep, and a reminder of its absence brings smiles to our faces.

Furniture and furnishings, those pieces we’ve intentionally selected or intentionally not selected, often reveal who we are.

by Katie Hutchison for House Enthusiast