The Maine House Book — A Reverie of Simplicity
The way I meet a book is often like the way I meet a room quietly, curiously. This one, The Maine House, appeared during a photo shoot in Brooklyn. I noticed it, moved it, used it as a prop, drawn to the image on its cover. I wondered who made it, who photographed it, who lived in these spaces.
It turns out this book is the result of years of searching — photographer Maura McEvoy and art director Basha Burwell traveled across Maine to find homes that hold the true character of the place. Not designer showcases, but homes shaped by the people who live in them — artists, fishermen, writers. Spaces that reflect originality, resourcefulness, and the kind of spirit no amount of money can buy.
Because for me, it’s not just the finished thing I love but more about the making. The making of design. The making of a book. The quiet decisions: which images stay, which details are left as they are. I’m endlessly curious about how things come into the world. How even a simple chair is made, where its wood came from, whose hands shaped it. I find myself wishing to know not just how to photograph these objects, but how to build them, how to honor the material, the process, the story.
In my own work as an interior photographer, I am often hired to present perfection to tidy, to style, to highlight the designer’s vision at its most intentional. But what I love in The Maine House is how it invites you to see beauty in what is already there. The lived-in, the layered, the quietly imperfect.
These are the ones that spoke to me most, even though I love them all.
The cottage with the buoys hanging from the trees
First I had to look for the English name, in France we call these bouées de pêche. There’s something so tender about how these bright buoys become almost like ornaments like a kind of coastal jewelry for the trees. The way the sun glows on the shingles, the grass, the water beyond , it feels like the house belongs here, as natural as the pines. In my own work, I might be asked to straighten, to clean, to refine… but this image reminds me that beauty often lives in what simply is.
The open door
This scene feels like an invitation. The chair is worn, the cushion slumped, the rug a little askew and yet, it’s perfect. The way the view is framed, the way the outdoors flows into the room, the quiet simplicity of it. I love how nothing tries too hard. It reminds me why I long not just to capture design, but to understand the making of chairs, of doors, of spaces that welcome the world in.
The kitchen of wood and warmth
This space glows, like it is holding all the stories of the people who cooked and laughed here. The mix of wood, the rugs that don’t match exactly, the art hung where it felt right, it is full of soul. It feels lived in, not staged.
The sloped ceiling with soft light
What stays with me is how the light simply lands on the wall, quiet and perfect just like that. No one moved it, no one forced it. The lobster trap as a table, the little red lamp nothing here feels arranged, yet it tells so much.
The window with the sea beyond
This image holds me, or maybe I should say, it calms me. I am always drawn to the ocean, to the promise of water and horizon. The sea is the first thing I see, but soon I feel the warmth of the wood, the way the color softens the blue. There is a pause here. A quiet. A simplicity that asks for nothing more.
It makes me think of Vilhelm Hammershøi. That stillness, that light that falls just so, the feeling of a room that could stay like this forever. The kind of view that belongs to no one and to everyone.
The daybed
I love the layers here. The fabrics, the textures, the old stool. It all feels like it came together slowly, through time. Not too perfect, and that is what makes it beautiful.
I snapped these images with my phone, just like that. Nothing fancy, nothing planned. I wanted you to feel how beautiful this book is, even through something so simple. The way it’s put together reminds me of Cabana, one of my favorite magazines, with the same love for texture, layers, and soul.
If it speaks to you too, you can order it through Cabana — which feels just right to me.
“The simple things are also the most extraordinary things, and only the wise can see them.” Paulo Coelho
xoxo,
If this resonates, I’d love to connect.
You can explore more of my photography work here, or get in touch here.
