What To Do With The Space For Art

The collection, selection and hanging of art places many homeowners into an anxious state of mind. Despite the extensive availability of top-notch galleries here on the East End, as well as major exhibitions at hand, it can be challenging to seek out the “perfect” piece that fits your wall that is just screaming for a major painting or photo.

I am a strong advocate of choosing and falling in love with art, then decorating the room around that art. But for those who have difficulty choosing a major piece, remember mirrors, clocks, barometers, architectural fragments, screens, textiles, quilts and even carpets can fill the space and become your perfect masterpiece.

Until the right thing comes along, here are a few lovely recommendations in choosing a decorative place filler.

The space above the mantel presents a nonstop discussion of what to do. A mirror is always an elegant solution. Whether choosing an elaborate baroque confection over a streamlined mantel, or a sleek, attenuated metal-framed mirror over a Victorian fire surround, contrast can be a successful companion in achieving your goal.

Over-scaled mirrors behind sofas produce a double-sized room and steal the stage from often overstuffed, ungainly upholstery. With antique mirrors, momentarily out of popularity, the pricing is as seductive as the effect they lend to the space. Small mirrors can be had for a song and a collection assembled closely and running up a staircase is quite alluring.

As beds are rather square and modern, a diminutive round mirror, starburst, bull’s-eye or otherwise shapely in-nature mirror is a winning juxtaposition, versus the expected rectangle above a rectangle. A clever designer I know balanced a tiny starburst mirror above a larger regency bull’s-eye, above a larger French empire octagonal glass, all aligned to the top of a wonderful upholstered camelback headboard sporting brass nail heads that repeated the gold glimmer of all the mirror frames.

Any room can use the sparkle and space-enhancing depth that a mirror lends, but particularly the guest bedrooms, entry halls and bedroom halls, where verifying one’s appearance becomes an essential daily habit. And if one cannot find the perfect size for the appropriate space, then all of our East End frame shops are stocked with appropriate frames, especially in bleached oaks, weathered ash and patinaed metals. Add a 1¼-inch bevel to the mirror glass itself and the entire effect can be sumptuous and purposeful.

Mirrors opposite each other can pleasure the symmetrical fetish in all of us. But remember the oft disconcerting infinity effect resulting in a dizzying curvature of descending mirrors.

The precious analogue clocks of yesteryear with their mesmerizing bells and chimes intoning the passage of time are lying fallow in under-attended antiques shops all over the country. I can only remember my great-aunt’s ebony grandfather clock at the base of her stairs that I used to stare at as the moon and sun made their slow passage across the top arc of the clock face.

Despite its telltale resemblance to Edgar Allen Poe’s clock in “The Masque of the Red Death,” I adored its deep sonorous chime, its polished ebony case and its glowing intricate dial emblazoned with etched Roman numerals. It was unforgettable.

In an unused corner of our guest room, I have placed my ancestral “grandmother’s” clock—a slender elegant case that gently reminds my guests of the weekend’s lapse. It always draws so much favorable comment that I have given up searching for the perfect artwork to fill the spot.

The Scandinavians, in particular, lavish great attention on wall-hung clocks, creating fanciful architectural fantasies in carved, gilded wood. Starbursts, supported by ionic columns, held fast by twisting, scaly dolphins are only an introduction to the eccentric, attractive clocks they have created. Small in scale, these creations hang beautifully between a pair of windows or above a tall chest of drawers.

Architectural fragments can fill those awkward spaces, such as the peak of a dormer. Odd stone scrolls, chiseled off a Wall Street building, a pair of shutters from a Charleston ocular window or the capital off a rotted pilaster give depth to a wall.

Textiles, quilts and carpets are textural art pieces in themselves and often deserve the rarefied spotlight of a position hanging in your home. You can’t give away Persian carpets nowadays, so collectors, perk up your pocketbooks and consider hanging one behind a console.

The once-popular abstraction of the Amish quilts (reminiscent of Rothko) never fall from fashion. And the marvelous Northern European textiles of the 1960s are always a pièce de résistance.

Still affordable and readily available are the glorious carved Chinese screens that render a sheetrock prison into an architectural wonder in the bat of an eye.

I encourage everyone to assemble their own personal collection from our unique cadre of local East End artists. But if you are momentarily indecisive and mentally exhausted, there exist less expensive options and less mentally challenging directions to creatively complete your space and fill the walls.