How one-of-kind artwork turned an Ohio kitchen into a personal museum
Last summer, my home received a one-of-a-kind installation. When I was traveling out West for my son Hugo's wedding, and the house was empty of all creatures save for two cats, an artist set up shop in my kitchen.
I've written many times how home projects can morph from a singular improvement to a full-scale remodel, as was the case with my kitchen. But even after the stovetop necessitated a new backsplash, which itself necessitated a new countertop — all of which I shared here previously — the "Farmer and the Dell" saga continued.
As can happen, the paint I chose for my kitchen cabinets and soffits did not look as I expected. The color's name is "light blue" and it is supposed to coordinate with the deep, bluish-purple of the kitchen walls. The only window in my kitchen, however, is on the north side of the house, which means the sunlight entering the room is indirect and dim. The 18" soffits looked like the vast sides of a grey battleship.
Because repainting was too costly, I felt something off-the-charts fun was needed to break up all that drab grey. Off I went to Facebook Marketplace where I found the perfect item — a white porcelain Capodimonte chandelier with flying cherubs and dangling rosettes.
Full disclosure: I had never heard of Capodimonte Italian porcelain art, which I've come to learn is famous, like Hummel figurines, but Capodimonte items come in greater variety, scale and imagination. Once the chandelier was hung, friends raved about it while my eldest son, Claude, told me I have developed old-lady taste. Whatever. I soon found a Capodimonte clock to hang over the kitchen sink.
"You know what those soffits need?" my friend Jim asked as he admired the chandelier. He was over for dinner one evening while his husband was off in Europe painting plein air landscapes. I took the bait and asked what, to which he replied, "A Stebner original."
And that's how Bruce Stebner came to work in my kitchen while I traveled out West. He showed me photos of foliage he'd painted on the ceilings of a mansion. I loved it and told him to do as he saw fit. Just before he began, Bruce texted me to see if I wanted anything specific. I told him to take full artistic license.
The results could not be more personalized, nor fabulous. Like the Palace of Versailles outside Paris, stylized dauphins (dolphins) and plants frame portraits of my three dogs and my son Claude's two white cats (who've been waiting over two years to be retrieved by their owner). The painting of the female cat fondly reminds me of the Disney animated film "The Aristocats," which I first saw in the theater with my daycare provider when I was four.
The Capodimonte clock, with its central location above the sink, is now flanked not by one, but two images of my Yorkipoo, Henry (the only thing that could be better than my Henry would be two of my Henrys). My Sheltie, Angus, sits attentively over the stovetop while my German shepherd, Otto, does the same over the refrigerator.
When I first entered the kitchen after my trip, I couldn't believe my good fortune. I now cook in a room fit for a museum. Where my soffits had been dull, they became actively whimsical and the Capodimonte clock fits right in. However, the chandelier did not. While others disagreed, I felt its frolicking busyness didn't complement the artwork.
Back to Facebook Marketplace I went with something specific in mind. I wanted another chandelier, but one in darker colors that evoke the design of the Stebner paintings. Clearance for my tall boys' noggins eliminated multiple options that fit my visual goal, but were too large.
Five months after I started looking, I found the perfect fixture. Even friends who thought the cheeky cherubs looked splendid agree the new chandelier is better. The metal is reddish brown and rather than dangle, crystals are held upright around the fixture's arms in a manner that resembles the foliage of the Stebner paintings. Once the new chandelier was installed, it felt like putting the final pieces of a difficult jigsaw puzzle into place. Sublime.
As for the Capodimonte chandelier? It is currently resting on a cushion under my Buddhist shrine. I vaguely see it each morning when I meditate. It's hinged arms are stacked three on each side of the base, not unlike a beautiful octopus minus two arms. It is waiting to hang in my office, which has dusky pink walls and a golden floor, where it will look heavenly.
Contact Holly Christensen at whoopsiepiggle@gmail.com.
This article originally appeared on Akron Beacon Journal: How unique artwork can turn your kitchen renovation into a statement
