Posted: Mon, 22 Mar 2010 10:51 AM - 8,231 Readers
By: Becca Hensley
Walking into Sara Hickman's house is like taking a magical mystery tour.
A vibrant active work in progress, the house is a flurry of energy, an
enchanted refuge of peace and a multifaceted manifestation of hotwired
creativity. Hickman, who will become Official State Musician of Texas in
May and is playing this weekend during SXSW, revels in it.
"This house reflects our desire to live life to the fullest. It's a
place to create memories, to expand on the love we share, to interact
artistically and to grow."
A modest South Austin bungalow, not far from the madness of SoCo,
Hickman's three-bedroom house sits on a quiet cul-de-sac. She bought it a
decade ago. Though it needed remodeling and was being oddly used by the
sellers ("there was a sink in every room — among other things"), and
though it was drab décor-wise by Hickman's standards ("white walls and
parquet flooring") she knew instantly this was the house for her.
A single mother at the time, she had brought along her toddler, Lily,
who jumped from her stroller with glee and ran about the house. "She was
my barometer; I knew we would be happy here." Not long afterward, in
2000, Hickman married Lance Schriner; together, they had a daughter,
Iolana, and the family began to meld into the house. Or vice versa.
Over the years, a family room was added where a screened-in porch had
been; the sinks were removed; walls were repainted throughout and
windows added to make the house the family's own. Antiques, family
heirlooms, vintage furniture and cool finds from IKEA in various
combinations mark every room, from children's bedrooms to the piano
room. In some cases, unconventional and unexpected use of space — such
as the shared family office that sits in the front of the house where
some might have put a living room — drives home the point that this
house marches to its own drummer — er, guitarist, in the case of
Hickman.
Lived-in, cozy, bursting with a palpable life force, the house eschews
any generic look. Items are placed due to Hickman's artistic
sensibility, or, alternatively, because it works for the family. Not
fancy or luxe, this place is authentically about living life with people
you love. In this way, it evokes the idyllic dwelling owned by Elrond
in "The Hobbit": "It was perfect, whether you liked food, or sleep, or
work or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best or a
pleasant mixture of them all." Hickman's house makes you want to
snuggle up and stay awhile.
Hickman herself grew up in a creative house. "My mother was a weaver and
my father was a painting professor. My sense of wonder was always
engaged. This is the gift I want to give my children." Hickman talks
about how musical instruments and art supplies were available and
abundant during her childhood. Likewise, she provides materials — and
they can be found in every room — for the family to create art on the
spot.
Paints, crayons, sculpting materials line various shelves in the family
room and in the children's rooms. An upright piano begs to be played in
an emerald green room adjacent to the dining area. Next to it, a set of
African drums beckon. Guitars are found in various rooms of the house.
Everyone's artistic expression is celebrated. Hickman hangs art by some
friends, but mostly the house is adorned with work created by her
children. She talks about the house being an ongoing gallery — someone
gives her something, she keeps it for awhile, then passes it on. But one
gets the sense the girls' work will stay forever. As will Hickman's own
creations, which are often tied to her family — such as collage frames
she created for each daughters to surround photos of their lives thus
far.
Collections are important to the family, too. Neatly arranged in myriad
cabinetry, they draw the eye in their abundance. Mad about manga, the
family has quite a collection of Keroppi, the big-eyed green frog. And
Hickman loves her vintage statues of the red-checkered-pants icon from
Bob's Big Boy. A room full of dollhouses, actually an alcove off the
master bedroom, features both vintage doll houses and one painstakingly
built by Hickman and her daughters.
Photos hang in profusion throughout the house. In the office, there are
music posters and advertisements, mostly of Hickman in various phases of
her career.
Throughout the house, photos cover surfaces and line walls depicting the
history of the family. One cabinet in the family room holds heaps of
journals, stuffed into its shelves. Journal keeping, a favorite
Hickman-Schriner clan activity, records nearly every aspect of their
lives. They have movie journals, trip journals, a family meeting journal
— even a love journal in which Schriner asked Hickman to marry him.
The family room Hickman added to the original house has become the heart of the place. It's a comfortable space with a shiny oak floor, awash with light. Here, cozy sitting areas, boldly asymmetrical, invite tête à tête conversation. Blue walls, their color matched by Hickman from a photo taken of a swimming pool at Lake Austin Resort and Spa, promote quietude while stirring the spirit at the same time. Connected, the yellow-walled dining room feels like an extension of the family space. A solid oak table with wings large enough to include a crowd is the room's anchor. "This is where we hang — here, there, all together. Friends, family all gather here — this table's a symbol of that. It makes me feel blessed."
The kitchen, too, promotes gathering. Hickman designed a breakfast bar that looks something like plump red lips. "I wanted a place for people to sit and talk to me while I cook," she says. "But I wanted them to be comfortable — I wanted the bar to embrace them." This led her to design something her builder and team called the "swarvey bar." With the curlicue edges of a lasagna noodle, only bright red, it wraps the kitchen, dividing it from the family and dining area.
Hip pendant lights hang down, but not in a perfect row. Instead, on Hickman's bidding, the contractor hung them at different lengths.
Hickman says she drew inspiration for her house from the wacky world of Pee-wee Herman, whose TV show featured a cartoonlike fantasy house with bright colors, unconventional oversized shapes and anthropomorphic objects. "Anything goes at Pee-wee Herman's," she said, noting that this is what she would like her house to represent.
This house, says Hickman, is meant to be a place of joy. She says she wants the floor, the ceiling, the walls — the very beams and foundations — to soak up warm loving energy and to embrace all who need it. Friends know they will be welcomed at all times; anyone needing to rest here will find a refueling spot.
In the end, just as Hickman's music teems with imagery and intention, so does her house. She allows the house to be an expression of its inhabitants, including her children.
She says: "I am like Virginia Woolfe: I believe in a room of one's own."
