Interior: A Circle of Light

This sitting area belonged to a tattoo parlor with a clear sense of identity already stitched into its walls. The energy here was bold and creative, unapologetically modern, and carried a certain edge that asked you to take up space and own it. When I was invited to contribute to that story, they gave me just two guiding words: sunset and black. Oh, and somewhere—please, they said—there had to be hot pink neon.

I began with the walls, which were already dressed in a deep charcoal gray that somehow felt grounding despite its depth. The wood floors warmed it up, and from there, the direction became clear. I reached for two chairs I’d had tucked away for a while—industrial frames of brushed iron, wide wooden platforms holding leather cushions that were worn in all the right ways. There’s something honest about furniture that doesn’t ask to be perfect, only comfortable. I tossed on a couple of black linen pillows and one printed with a modern black-and-white eye design—just a touch of playfulness, a wink at the art on skin that would soon be made not far from where they sat.

A low table stood between them—concrete and black marble in a sharp triangle shape. It was simple and left just as it was. Because not every surface needs to hold something to say something.

But the heart of the room, the piece that brought it all together, lived on the back wall.

I painted a wide circle—magenta bleeding into orange like a sunset you don’t want to look away from. Then, inside that circle, I hung seven floating shelves, evenly spaced so they kissed the edges of the shape as they climbed. Around it all, a thick band of hot pink neon curved and glowed. It was soft and strong all at once.

On each shelf, I placed small pieces—sculptural objects in black, stacks of books, framed photographs of far-off beaches, a little skull planter with a succulent tucked inside. Each item had its place, balanced not only in shape but in story. Every detail intentional, like the lines of a tattoo that carry meaning far beneath the skin.

What I love most about this space is that it doesn’t apologize for being different. It doesn’t try to chase timelessness or tradition. Instead, it stands here, a little bright and a little moody, confident in its color and energy. And maybe there’s something to learn from that—that sometimes the most welcoming spaces are the ones that let themselves be a little wild, a little strange, and exactly what they are meant to be.