I've just spent two weeks in a house with a 4 year old, a 6 year old, two very active parents and a cat, and I can say without offending said parents that there is clutter in that house. Even so I could relax. I came home on Saturday to mowed lawns (to please me), vacuumed carpets, an empty laundry basket, no washing up, and a fridge full of yoghurt. I am forever grateful that I live with a housekeeperly man (yes you, Dave!) but I was struck on arrival, yet again, by our clutter, and I'm not talking about the yogurt cartons.
Admittedly, Isaac and Wendy's house is bigger than ours, and the rooms are bigger, so the clutter doesn't take up so much visual space. But I don't think the size of anything is relevant: it's just that clutter in someone else's house doesn't annoy me, just as long as it doesn't get in my way. In a similar vein, doing the washing up in someone else's house can sometimes be pleasant, whereas at home it is always a chore.
I can see that clutter, the clearing of clutter, hoarding, and a superfluity of objets d'art on display are a continuing area of disagreement at Hepworth Towers. We have different views: there is no right or wrong, and there is no way out.
Here is Lux "giving Cece an eye test" in one sitting area of their open plan living space:
|photo by Isaac Hepworth|