We are working on photographing our work for a forthcoming book monograph titled American Decoration, to be published this October. The day we started to organize the shoots with a series of scouting visits to consider angles, flowers, timing and the like was also William Cullum’s first day on the job at Jayne Design Studio. He literally walked into four of our most handsome projects. He has written a guest blog about that day….

My first week in New York City was a whirlwind experience of the most rewarding variety. Navigating subways, finding alternative routes around a parade that made escaping from our office at 210 5th Avenue almost impossible, and sifting through the thousands of variations of cream colored linen in the D&D Building left me exhausted, intimidated, and overwhelmed.
After one final frantic journey on the subway, a brisk jog in brown suede spectators down Park Avenue, and a cramped elevator ride I found myself staring out of a window.
The view?
A silvery-gray pool of water known as the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir framed by a mosaic of crimson, sienna, marigold, and chartreuse foliage.
The room I was standing in?
Impeccable. Casual. Surprisingly livable.
I was in a home I had only ever seen in photographs or in magazines. Painted cranes on metallic Chinese papered walls in the entrance hall stared back at me, a gridded ceiling with ingenious cube-like brass sconces and ceiling fixtures illuminated the dining room, and sculptures by many well known artists of the last few decades casually lounged about the rooms.
This was the first home of four I saw that afternoon.
The next residence almost brought me to tears. There should have been a warning at the front door flashing: “You are not prepared for this.” After traveling up a few floors in an elevator, which I can only assume, has its own New York City Landmark status, we entered a carved limestone entrance hall. To the left was a hall with a faux bronze and glass ceiling that lead into one of the most beautiful salons I have ever seen. It was massive, but the multiple groupings of furniture introduced a human scale that made you feel comfortable. A couple of bronze ballerina statues ignored me as I wandered about the room, laughing nervously when I was told the French boiserie was installed by Stephanie Boudin of Maison Jansen sometime in the 1960s. This home had a pedigree that would intimidate most, but its interior finishes and furnishings warmed it and made it inviting and livable. (A taste of the room is seen in the top image.)
As the next front door opened a few blocks east, large-scale hand blocked wallpaper shook me out of my Gilded Age-meets-Jansen inspired dream (in this scenario I’m the Shah of Iran and we’re creating and decorating a Titanic-scale ocean liner, however the length of the cab ride didn’t allow me to completely finish my plans). A pair of Duncan Phyfe chairs with hairy paw feet stood obediently on either side of a console table topped by a gilt mirror. The home was traditional, but the unsuspected colors and patterns made it clear that this family lives in the 21stcentury. It was a veritable pantheon of American furniture; the finest examples of their kind waited to be noticed and discussed.

I was in a state of sensory overload. Years of studying the decorative arts had not prepared me for this plunge into these remarkable interiors all in one afternoon. This was like trying to see Rome in a weekend; running from a Renaissance palazzo, to the Forum, to visiting Antinous and Hadrian in their marble splendor at the Vatican, and then trying to squeeze in that one final jewel-box of a Baroque church just to glimpse Saint Theresa in her state of ecstasy before the bronze doors are locked for the evening.
Finally we arrived at the fourth apartment and after a less than glamorous ascent on the service elevator we entered the unfinished kitchen and I impatiently made my into the formal entrance hall. Paintings by the masters of the 20th century hung from every richly hued wall of the home (the gilded grass cloth of the downstairs powder room was my favorite finish). These paintings were as much residents of this home as the actual clients and you could tell they all felt comfortable in their new surroundings; they felt natural and almost expected. It was not until you accidentally noticed the rushed signatures of the artists that I fully understood the importance of the paintings. This home was clearly about displaying an amazing collection of art, but not at the expense of comfort.

The four properties were each very different examples of interior design. I traveled from casual livability, to nuanced elegance, to updated traditionalism, and finally landed in a warm, timeless environment that showcased artwork without being obvious in its method. This was my first experience with this level of interior design, and like any first experience, the magic of it is that it is the first. It will be filed away in my memory in a special folder marked “Can you believe you saw that?” where it will fade and stretch, allowing these rooms to become more fantastical and legendary as the years pass.
That Friday my world expanded infinitely.
























