illustrator nick dewar was born in scotland, where he grew up in a small fishing village on the east coast. he’s since lived in glasgow, prague, london, new york and now finds him self in sunny southern california and is thankful to have a place which is large enough he no longer has to bathe in his kitchen (ha!). i’m loving his home for all the graphic elements and signs that have made their way inside. click here for more images from nick’s home, and check out more of his work here (you may recognize the cover illustration for the devil wears prada). stay tuned for two more knock-out sneak peeks coming up soon! [thanks, nick!] –anne
[above: The American trailer is from Hatch print in Nashville. Apparently the print shop was once owned by a man who also owned a trailer park. He forced the poor artists to make giant woodblock prints of trailers to advertise his park. The cushion is the ubiquitous Jonathan Adler cushion. Ownership of which signifies membership in the menacing secret society of freelance designers. The pot is from Santorini and I dragged it back as hand luggage when you could still do those sort of things.]
Our living area. As you can see we have lots of fancy books that have been optimistically placed in such a way that they may be readily to hand for an evening of thoughtful discussion while sipping Pinot Noir and eating eclectic cheese. They are certainly not conducive to flopping down and watching Stephen Colbert on Hulu, which is what we actually do. I replaced all the phones with old rotary phones from the 1970’s. This was much to the bemusement of the cable guy we thought I was either an electronic eccentric or conspiracy theory nut. Now my phones make a loud “BRIIING” noise and you have to sit down and actually pay attention to the person on the other end and not wander around annoying the cats or watching videos of gerbils on youtube. The cushions on the couches are repurposed flour sacks from Etsy. The subway sign serves as both a wistful reminder of the ten great years we spent in New York and how much we don’t miss New York in August.
The table (from Green River Woods) is made from reclaimed bits of lumber from a house in
Pennsylvania North Carolina. I screwed it onto an old Eames table base. Outside you can see the tops of our tomato plants peeking up.
On the left is our dresser. This dresser may appear serene on the outside but inside the dresser contains a vast cornucopia of mismatched socks, handkerchiefs in disquieting colours and homeless buttons. The wooden things on top are blocks that are used to print patterns on Sari fabric. We picked them up in a street market in Jaipur. To the right are some crudely tacked objects of inspiration in my studio. There is a poster of Kali, a Prague tram sign, an old boiler warning sign and a badge from a Yoko Ono art show.
On Saturday we lumber back from the farmers market with a sack of oranges. So every morning we have fresh juice from our wonderful manual squeezer. I have not yet caught my thumbs in the lever but it is just a matter of time before this happens. Lurking in the background we see can my Cornishware bread bin. I am particularly proud of this bin as I found it in the back of a Scottish hardware store among faded boxes of rusty screws and antediluvian plumbing supplies. The chopping boardis one the best purchases I have ever made. Having a large expanse on which to chop vegetables on is one of the most luxurious things you can do.
The figs are from my aunts garden in Palm Springs and the bowl they are sitting in was made by my friend Rebecca Callis. We are lucky enough to also have some of her cups and bowls. They make me happy every time I use them. Through the window you can see our struggling herb garden. Damn that Cilantro.
The shaving mirror is from a South London flea market.
I found this washed up on a beach near where I grew up in Scotland. It was covered in thick black paint and resembled a sink clog. For years I dutifully carried from home to home (much to my wife’s chagrin). Recently I stripped off all the gunk, rubbed linseed oil into it and repainted in the letters and now I am allowed to put it in the living room. We think it says “Fruitful Bounty”.
Our earthquake preparedness. I plan to live on marmite and custard. The plan being that when the big one comes the world will be divided into two warring tribes: those who love Marmite and those who hate it. It will be like “The Road” but with sandwich spreads. The small knives are a result of getting lost when driving in New Zealand and winding up at the end of a road where a knife maker lived. They are made from old bits of tractor and some wood he dug out of a bog.
I always planned to illustrate this book as it contains such gems as: “Ge dubh am fitheach is geal leis isean” which translates as “Black as is the raven he thinks his chicken fair” and “Is miosa na an uireasbhuidh tuille’s a choir” which apparently means “’Tis’ worse than poverty to have more than enough”. Wise words indeed. On the right is an elephant hook from the hook lady.
My studio. On the wall are some photos from my travels and a screenprint by Chris Ware. The floor is littered with reference books.
Wood. The outdoor beer opener. I assume that most people have this.