Worldly possessions
Two artists show off their love of artifacts from travels abroad in a cozy Andersonville abode.
“Bless this mess.” That was the subject line of Ashley Alexander’s e-mail, responding to my inquiry to write about her home, which, according to our mutual friend, was amazing. “I don’t know if I’d call it amazing,” she wrote. “It’s just my stuff.”
“Bless this mess.” That was the subject line of Ashley Alexander’s e-mail, responding to my inquiry to write about her home, which, according to our mutual friend, was amazing. “I don’t know if I’d call it amazing,” she wrote. “It’s just my stuff.”
When I walked into her home, it was just a bunch of stuff. The key difference, however, between her “bunch of stuff” and your average Chicago apartment-dweller’s was that hers tells a story of a woman who chose to spend her midtwenties as a teacher in Oman and Budapest before finding her way to Andersonville as a thirtysomething artist and teacher.
I’m immediately drawn to the multicolored stack of suitcases topped with two shadow boxes filled with toy birds: a miniature version that Alexander made for her roommate/fiancé Mark Furrow and a larger version that Furrow made for her in return.
Given her penchant for both establishing roots in faraway cities and traveling all over the world, it’s not surprising that suitcases double as functional decor all over the apartment. Similarly, globes adorn the shelves, and a sprawling map of the U.S. hangs in the kitchen. “I’m geographically challenged because I lived overseas [as a kid],” she explains.
Every artifact comes with a story; the most impressive in appearance is the stunning teakwood bed from Colonial India which she purchased at an antique store in Oman. A cream-colored canopy drapes over the top, and two small paintings of horses running through fields decorate the head and foot boards. Two ornate pairs of slippers from India and Dubai—one that she wore every day as a teacher in Budapest—rest on a side table in the living room. A sign that she purchased from a market vendor in Oman hangs in the kitchen; it’s inscribed with charmingly misspelled words, such as chilly peppers and green piece.
“It’s kind of heartbreaking, but I’ll bring weird stuff home and then you can go to Cost Plus and they just have that stuff there,” she says, gesturing to a zebra mask she picked up in Africa while on assignment as a photographer with Kenya Airways.
That’s not to say that all of the treasures are purchased at a high price abroad. Easily as many of their items that have been carried home were found. “I’m a total scavenger,” she says. Collections of seashells, pinecones and dried sea urchin shells are showcased in tall glass canisters in the living room. She mentions packaging and postcards she found while digging in the trash in Amsterdam and in an abandoned home in the Middle East.
There’s a sentiment attached to nearly everything in the house. “We’re like serial monogamists,” she says, referencing her and Furrow’s tendency to hold onto their possessions—from his grandfather’s globe to her nursery-room dresser. “We’re keepers.”
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