LIEBABY: At LIEBABY, we say: “Build the world. Be that bitch.” It’s basically my belief that we’re building ourselves through what we wear, watch, where we go, who we let in, and what we obsess over. So tell me: when did you decide what you wanted your life to look like, and what did you change to start making it your reality?
COURTNEY: I don't think there was ever some defining moment. I get bored incredibly easily, which is probably responsible for most of my life choices. But I'm also endlessly curious. I love being challenged, and I love figuring out why I'm attracted to something, especially when it makes absolutely no sense. I've always wanted to live with my art, to be completely immersed in a world where the work takes center stage. Everything in our home exists around the paintings and sculptures. I'm constantly rearranging things, sometimes weekly, but especially whenever a new piece is finished. I'm also notoriously lazy about updating my available works catalog, so inevitably the paintings end up living in the loft for a while before they leave.
At some point I stopped buying things just because they were affordable or practical. I realized I'd rather have nothing than something I didn't really love. Unfortunately, my taste and my bank account have rarely been on speaking terms, so I've had to get creative. I discovered I could barter a painting for furniture, which opened up an entirely new world of questionable financial decisions. I think my life has come together less through some grand vision and more through a series of obsessions, trades, and an inability to leave well enough alone.
LIEBABY: When I started curating my home, I wanted it to feel part Palm Springs, part ’70s porn set, with a dash of The Flintstones. So I made one rule: if it doesn’t turn me on, it doesn’t enter the house. Do you have a rule for deciding which pieces make the cut in your space?
COURTNEY:Absolutely no rules. I think that's the old punk rock in me. It's entirely instinctual. I'm always looking for something that makes me giggle or stop and think, "Why the fuck did someone make this?" That's a pretty high bar, actually. Most things don't get that reaction out of me anymore, but when something does, it's coming home with me. And if I can't find it or afford it, I'll probably end up making my own version. I'm not particularly interested in whether things go together. We can always figure that out once they're in the house.
LIEBABY: I think everyone should have at least one obsession that makes other people question their judgment. What’s yours, and how deep are you in? Are we talking casual fixation or should we be concerned?
COURTNEY: French silver. I've developed a slightly concerning obsession with collecting it, which has naturally evolved into a weekly tea service at home and an ongoing collection of Christofle MOOD eggs filled with both necessary and completely unnecessary cutlery. I'd prefer the tea service to be daily, but apparently I have other responsibilities. Who doesn't love a cunty little moment at home with a great art book and a bitchy tea set? Just lying on the sofa like a Renaissance painting, surrounded by silver, asking the universe what any of this actually means. Some people meditate. I polish silver and have an existential crisis in excellent company.
LIEBABY: Show me three objects from your world. One that you’d save first in a fire, one that nobody else understands, and one that tells me something about you I’d never guess.
COURTNEY: This is a surprisingly difficult question for me because, despite being completely obsessed with objects, I'm not particularly attached to any of them. I've been burglarized and moved across the country enough times to learn that pretty much everything is replaceable. It's a strange thing to love beautiful objects as much as I do while having absolutely no problem letting them go. I think I'm more attached to the thrill of finding something than the actual business of owning it. So in a fire, I'm grabbing my husband and getting the hell out. The silver and art can fend for themselves. The Gaetano Pesce Vases — The ones I'd save in a fire, hypothetically. I've been collecting Gaetano Pesce's work for years. I'm a little bummed that he's become so popular, but alas, what can you do? I love how playful and strange his work is. Nothing feels too precious or overly concerned with being beautiful. His objects have personalities, and I think that's what I'm always drawn to. The Ceramic Sculptural Floor Lamp — The one nobody quite understands. I commissioned this piece from artist Debbie O'Hara in Palm Beach. I wanted something sculptural and strange that would live in the room almost like another character. Something that looked as though it might get up and walk away at any moment. I love the idea of furniture and objects having a life of their own. The Pussy Riot Mask — Something you might not guess about me.I've always collected ephemera alongside my library and art books. Little pieces of cultural history that I find just as interesting as the books themselves. I went to see Nadya Tolokonnikova of Pussy Riot perform at the MCA in Chicago, and when I discovered that a selection of masks she'd created were available, naturally one had to find its way into my collection.Mine is bright pink with a teddy bear on it. I suppose underneath all the French silver, silk kimonos, and ridiculous domestic rituals, there's still a punk rock girl in there somewhere. Although I'm not sure she's particularly well hidden.
LIEBABY: My man keeps our house freezing, so I have a designated indoor fur coat. At this point, it’s practically my uniform. What’s the one thing you’re always wearing around the house?
COURTNEY: I'm almost always in a kimono or a kaftan. I've amassed a pretty ridiculous collection of both. I love having yards of fabric flowing behind me as I walk around the loft, as though I'm making some grand entrance when really I'm just going to the kitchen for more tea. I even have a pair of marabou feather mules that you can hear click-clacking across the hardwood floors. Apparently, I require a soundtrack just to move from one room to another.
LIEBABY: I’m convinced everyone has a very specific recipe for feeling alive. Mine requires a ridiculous amount of visual stimulation and a dash of beautiful chaos. What’s yours?
COURTNEY: A steady supply of green tea, a healthy amount of sarcasm, really good art, and friends who can actually hold their own in a conversation. I love people with strong opinions, especially when they disagree with mine and can make a compelling argument for why I'm wrong. Which, admittedly, isn't that often.Intellectual conversation that goes on for hours, preferably with a few inappropriate jokes thrown in. And the love of my husband, who somehow manages to live inside this circus and still wants to come home every day.
LIEBABY: What’s something you saw once that permanently raised your standards?
COURTNEY: Villa d'Este on Lake Como. Years ago, I went to Milan with Marc Jacobs (the company, not the man, unfortunately) for a party, and they put us up there for one night. I remember arriving and thinking, damn, this ain't Chicago no more. I think what really stayed with me was realizing just how far that world was from the one I'd grown up in. Not just geographically, but in every possible sense. There's something quite extraordinary about discovering an entirely different level of living exists, especially when you didn't grow up anywhere near it. Unfortunately, once you've seen it, you can't unsee it. One night was all it took to completely ruin me. I've been trying to get back to that tax bracket ever since.
Lee F. Mindel captures the magic of Villa d’Este, a legendary hotel on Italy’s Lake Como
LIEBABY: I’ve been manifesting my dream night for some time now. Think delicious food, dancing, and cocktails with a monk, a nun, a sumo wrestler, and a mad scientist turned artist. Now imagine you could have absolutely anyone over to your house for one night. Dead, alive, fictional, completely inappropriate company. Who’s coming, how are you setting the scene, and how out of hand does the night get?
COURTNEY: Cy Twombly, Ernest Hemingway, and my late grandmother, Lee. Cy is my favorite artist of all time, and I've always been more fascinated by the myth of Hemingway than the actual man. There's something about someone so committed to their own mythology that I find fascinating. As someone who's spent far too much time worrying about what other people think, I have to admire the audacity. And then there's my grandmother. A tough, sophisticated, working-class woman from the South Side of Chicago who raised seven kids and didn't give a shit about hurting anyone's feelings. This is the same woman who once asked my high school boyfriend Andy why he was dating me because I looked like a man. I had a mohawk at the time, so fair enough. I'd spend the entire day cooking, naturally. The silver would come out, the wine would be flowing, and within twenty minutes both my grandmother and Hemingway would be criticizing the food. Hemingway would be getting progressively drunker and more insufferable, and Cy, bless him, would be desperately trying to steer the conversation toward something civilized. Maybe mythology. Hemingway would perk up for a second, thinking we were finally getting somewhere intellectually, until my grandmother called them both a couple of pussies and asked Cy why the hell anyone would pay money for his paintings. I'd be sitting there drinking wine, trying to defend my favorite artist while laughing my ass off, wondering why I'd spent eight hours cooking for these assholes. And honestly, I'd give anything to have her sitting at my table again, even if she spent the entire night insulting everyone I invited and me. Which probably says a lot about me and my unresolved trauma.
LIEBABY: One of my biggest muses is Luisa Casati, an eccentric Italian heiress who decided her entire life should be a work of art. The clothes, the house, the company she kept, the spectacle of it all. Granted, she had a ridiculous amount of money to play with, which certainly helps. But I believe you can create an interesting life without a ridiculous bank account. So, what’s one thing you think anyone could start doing tomorrow to make their life feel a little more like a work of art?
COURTNEY: Develop your own fucking taste. Seriously. I'm so bored with everyone regurgitating the same references, the same interiors, the same supposedly interesting cultural discoveries. It's like we're all looking at the same five things and congratulating each other for being so incredibly original. And now apparently we need someone on Instagram to explain culture to us in a sixty-second Reel. It's exhausting. Get curious. Find something that nobody's told you is cool yet. Make something terrible. Make something beautiful. Get your hands dirty. I've made plenty of things that probably should have never seen the light of day, but at least I made them. There's something incredibly satisfying about following an idea without knowing whether it's going to turn into something brilliant or an absolute disaster. And for the love of God, stop worrying whether everything goes together. Your home, your clothes, your interests, your life. None of it needs to make sense to anyone else.I think people have become so obsessed with appearing interesting that they've forgotten to actually be interested in anything. And there's a massive difference.