Editorial

Nostos is a weekly newsletter about the intersection of art and life. Editor's Notes is a regular column introducing issues, themes, and frameworks from a personal perspective.

In the New Luxury Pyramid, the Ultra High End is defined by having kids and still being cool.

This graphic made the rounds in 2024 and, given my vocational interests in core values, came back to me over and over again. It comes from Edmond Lau, the strategist/ designer/ meme guy who mostly circulates on LinkedIn (which itself might make an entry somewhere in the diagram). Lau offers his own explanation:

The New Luxury Pyramid: In the time of the 'Oat Milk Elite', status signifiers can be difficult to decode. What once might have been a universal signal of wealth like a Rolex or a Chanel Bag, now can under certain circumstances instead ironically communicate the lack thereof. These days, it seems like we prefer signs that are harder to fake. Taking a photo with a Birkin? Easy. Maintaining your yuppie deluxe lifestyle with two kids and a mortgage? A little harder. Think caseless iPhones, 10.30am fitness classes, not having roommates.

I see his point about how these things signify an economic and social elite. Kids are expensive, but even more expensive is the bandwidth to continue living on one’s own terms while also caring for kids. The idea of status signaling is not so interesting for me, however. What I’m interested in is how this is framed as luxury, because that’s what this life is: it’s pure luxury. I’ve worked with a lot of luxury brands throughout my career, first in publishing and more recently in art fairs. What’s fascinating to me about their events and activations and communications with their clients in general is that so little of it is about the product. Much more of it is about the experience, the intangibles around everything. Luxury is care, attention, and intention.

Or there’s Derek Guy:

This line hits hard because I am so fond of referring to myself as a “Mrs.-Dalloway-said-she-would-buy-the-flowers-herself” kind of guy. Lauren Sands writes on her Substack that selling luxury involves defining what luxury means to you and then figuring out who else would define that as a luxury. She offers a list of her favorite luxuries:

A heated toilet seat (bonus if it automatically raises) / Jewelry made by a friend / A piece of clothing I have had for years and worn innumerable times / Reliable high-quality healthcare / Living amongst things that reflect my style / Site-specific artwork / TIME / Reading / A vintage coat that I spent months tracking down on eBay / Friends that I have had since childhood / A long lunch with an artist I admire / Happy children / A pair of shoes that look good with almost any outfit / A hand massage from my husband as I fall asleep / Help (with children, work, carrying a heavy bag, really anything) / Writing a substack newsletter / Hosting a dinner party / The right kind of vacation / A handmade piece of pottery / An obscure watch that is hard to find

Having kids and still being cool. The luxury in the lifestyle I’m talking about, I think, comes in through the excess of meaning. Working in art and culture it is easy, too easy, to feel fulfilled—to feel that we are creating something of value to the human experience. (And I will insist to the death that this is a feeling that everyone deserves, and should actively seek out.) And raising a child, it probably goes without saying, comes with an inbuilt sense of purpose, one that I would extend to caring for a loved one with intentionality regardless of whether he or she is a child, a parent, a romantic partner, or a dear friend. To have both at once—it’s often overwhelming.

This week I read Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico and laughed at myself for how accurately some of the signifiers of the millennial lifestyle he’s skewering describe my choices in furnishings, hobbies, and vacations. I haven’t read Perec’s Things but somehow suspect I would feel equally called out in those pages. And yet as ennui kicks in for our protagonists I can’t help therapizing them just a little bit. They aren’t able to find quite enough meaning in their work, but only because they aren’t really trying to. And they aren’t able to find it in their family configuration, but only because they haven’t looked it in the eye.

Between the New Luxury Pyramid and these meditations on lifestyle and meaning, there is clearly a difference between working for meaning and working for sustenance. We lead lives of wild privilege. To do work because it is a pleasure, to put something out into the world. Luxury.

With the conclusion of my six-part essay on “Real Paintings and Fictional Painters,” I hope I have shared a bit of the motivations and inspirations behind Nostos. Moving forward, I’ll continue to write once a week on Wednesdays. On a regular rotation, I’ll share letters from the culture: the books I’m reading, movies I’m watching, exhibitions I’m seeing, links I’m sharing. Once a month, I’ll also share a conversation with an artist or creative focused on how they position their professional practice in relation to their personal lives, particularly their families and friends. This will be the heart of this newsletter going forward, and over time will constitute an archive in support of what it’s all about: having kids and making culture is indeed the ultimate luxury.

Nostos is a weekly newsletter about the intersection of art and life. Editor's Notes is a regular column introducing issues, themes, and frameworks from a personal perspective.

Sometimes it happens: A couple years back I had a really hard year. I had to dig deep to find the drive to get up every day and survive it. I had to learn a lot to rebuild a foundation of what it could feel like to stay alive. Once I had the pillars in place—health, nature, connection, work—I looked around and took stock of the things I’ve done with my life, the projects, the research, the friendships, the communities, and realized that the thing I was proudest of was a little constellation of being, a pocket-sized device for turning an “I” into a “we.”

I made a home where there was none.

My friends and I, my daughter and our children, we live a pretty blessed life. We spend a lot of time in beautiful environments looking at art and talking about culture with brilliant people. I look around sometimes at the little world that we live in, surrounded by artists and writers and curators and designers and musicians and other creative people who have chosen to make homes in unlikely places and in compromised scenarios, balanced between private life and public practice, and see so many different ways of being in the world. I see so much to learn from all of them, things that I might hope to incorporate into my own life (at home, out in the world, and in the relationship between the two), and paths that I hope might somehow intersect with my own.

Nostos refers to the long road home—to the back half of the hero’s journey. It’s a recognition that there is no such thing as making it home; only making home. Never easy, never automatic. It’s a celebration of all of the ways that we can come together through or despite the traditions of kinship that we inherit, digest, and reconfigure. There is a damaging mythology of the artist that says one must choose between a life devoted to creativity and a life shared with anything or anyone else. I want to share stories of how commitment to the practice and commitment to the community can live alongside one another, and how they can sometimes be one and the same.

This will be a place to share stories of making home. I am reaching out to friends and friends of friends, creative people who choose to make homes in multicultural environments, people with unique configurations of chosen families and other intentional networks, people who operate family businesses and multi-generational studios, people who cultivate little cultural laboratories, and people who just generally do home life differently, blending work and play and sharing themselves with the world.

Nostos is a newsletter about the intersection of art and life, a place to share stories about how creative people think about their work and its relationship to everything else. This is about building creative families. We’re living the cultural moment of the family, and we want to make it the moment of the cultural family. We want to blur the boundaries between family and friends. Families can and should be safe harbors for wild creativity, little cultural laboratories where mistakes are encouraged and successes wildly celebrated. We want to expand the comfort zone of the family into the wide world beyond.

Many of us have kids and work in creative fields. We belong to a generation doing family differently, mixing work and play and letting our children see us as whole people, and watching them grow into the same. All of us want to share what it feels like to share culture across our family and friends. Family grows by reaching outward.

Over the next few weeks, publishing on Wednesdays, I’ll be sharing a personal essay on the lives and loves of some of the artists and writers who have given me the courage and inspiration to begin this work. In addition to personal essays, Nostos will include edited conversations with creative people and short takes on things happening in our culture.

For now, I borrow my sign-off from Cavafy:

As you set out for Ithaka,
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.

May your road home be a long one.