They refined very little. She was used to specifying every detail in her interior projects and wanted to respect what was already there. “How can I compliment and dance with it?” She wondered. Apart from the fact that they have whitewashed walls (which are reminiscent of the islands found on the Aegean), she kept the room humble and deliberately monastic.
Bolaño's section was gathered for over three years and surrounded himself with pieces that inspired creativity. Everything was either vintage, made by a friend or in Greece.
Notes on this creative process pepper the open living room. A simple coffee table, which was designed with a former partner, takes out two rock fragments inspired by walks along the acropolis arranged by Stone. A colorful collection of old glass (an obsession as she admits) takes the best of built -in shelves. A paddled bank from your studio has a handmade ceramic button with textures from nearby ruins – a tribute to the city on your doorstep.
“In every piece that I or the room I create, there is a link to historical references,” she says. “And of course that promotes your practice and lets you have a very special point of view – what we all want as creative.” This way of thinking carries consistently. Her office, in which she outlines new ideas, contains only a few objects, such as a ceramic of an artist Elina Belou, which is based between Athens and southern France. A small square painting floats over her headboard like a stamp on an empty wall and remembers a cross over the bed. The emptiness gives her space to think.
“Athens is really a sanctuary for me – a place where you can create, separate and find a slower rhythm that is tight at the ethos of the studio,” says Bolaño, who compares her time in NYC and Paris. “Athens justifies me.”