Prior to buying my house years ago, I used to have a recurring dream that would begin with me walking alone through an old house that was in a state of disrepair. In the dream it is clear I have just purchased the house and, after I am handed the keys, I stroll through, assessing the space I am about to make home. Occasionally I stop to make mental notes of the things I will need to fix or change—a cracked windowpane; peeling paint; stained, outdated wallpaper; a missing doorknob.
In her creative process, Stout created an alter ego named Fatima Mayfield—a seer, herbalist, and spiritual advisor—who has become an ongoing protagonist in her work. There is a room in her house and studio that features dried herbs in jars, fragrant oils, sequined Voodoo flags, Kongo power figures, hand-painted Russian icons, and other spiritual objects. The room serves as an environment for Fatima to research herbs, compose remedies, or simply sit as the spirits of Ancestors whisper to her. Photo by Renée Stout advisor—who has become an ongoing protagonist in her work.
There is a room in her house and studio that features dried herbs
in jars, fragrant oils, sequined Voodoo flags, Kongo power figures,
hand-painted Russian icons, and other spiritual objects. The room
serves as an environment for Fatima to research herbs, compose remedies, or simply sit as the spirits of Ancestors whisper to her. Photo by Renée Stout
I take in the space while I simultaneously move about it, observing myself, as if hovering outside my body. The most satisfying thing about the dream is the look of contentment on my face as I think to myself, “It’s not perfect, and there’s so much work to be done, but it’s mine.”
As the dream continues, I get so excited about the prospect of transforming the space and making it my own that I take a few more rounds. Suddenly, I come upon a closed door that I have not noticed before. I stand in front of it, feeling a combination of anxiety and exhilaration as I reach out and turn the knob. I open the door to discover three or four more large rooms that I did not know existed.
This is always the point when I would wake up.
I purchased my house in 1999 as a fixer-upper nobody wanted in a neglected neighborhood. My parents came from Pittsburgh to attend the closing. I held the keys in my hand as we walked through the house together. It was not perfect; plaster had fallen from the ceilings, some floors and windows were slanted, and the rooms were too small (the largest, 16 by 14 feet, would have to work as my “studio”), but it was mine. The contentment on my father’s face mirrored mine as he said to me, “You need this house, and it needs you.”
Excerpt from Making Home: Belonging, Memory, and Utopia in the 21st Century, (Cooper Hewitt | The MIT Press, 2025) published in companion with Making Home—Smithsonian Design Triennial (New York, Nov. 2024-Aug. 2025)
Near the front door, Stout created a wall collage that she has built over the years. The collage features favorite gallery announcements from various artists’ shows, antique tintype and sepia-toned photographs, and an assortment of talismans, such as milagros and a collection of dried wishbones. Photo by Renée Stout
A few doors around the interior of Stout’s house have knobs that look like huge diamonds. The elegance of the knobs is a stark contrast to the layers of paint, now brittle and cracked, that have been applied by previous inhabitants over the decades. Sometimes Stout ponders those surfaces and imagines the people before her who made this space a home. Photo by Renée Stout
Jars from A Room to Simply, BE installation, Blown hot-formed and found glass, organic materials, mixed media, 2024. Credit: Renée Stout