EDITOR’S LETTER

Slipped in the thick envelope of newspaper articles and magazine tear sheets I receive weekly from my mum was a handwritten quote attributed to Orson Welles. The enemy of art is the absence of limitations, it read.

Welles probably didn't have in mind four walls and a roof when he uttered this sentiment, but those planes serve as unrelenting boundaries for interior designers and architects. This is where residential design and other arts diverge—architects, decorators can be as creative as they want so long as they don't tinker with the formula—making a home in which to live well.

Welles argues that being tethered to these strictures is exactly what allows creativity to flourish. Give most artists scores of pigments and unlimited canvas and many are crippled by the possibilities. We've all been there. Architect Cary Tamarkin, whose home is featured in "The Sweet & Lowdown" (pg. 66), drove his wife Mindy bonkers while he was drawing plans for their beach house. Cary agreed, saying that when an architect designs his own house, he's not under the usual constraints of time and money—which means he can tinker all he likes. (Mindy's catch phrase became "just do it.") He did have a couple limitations though, namely not to nettle his neighbors by obscuring their water view. The ultimate plan ended up being literally—and physically—elevated by that parameter. (And the neighbors remain friendly.)

Like most people, my limitation is time. Ideas—many for this magazine—arrive in idle moments, such as cruising the long expanse of road past Amagansett or in the window between my morning alarm beeping and the onset of panic about running late. But it's difficult to be idle in the era of Twitter and Facebook. It's hard to make time to ponder when there's WiFi on the Luxury Liner (thank goodness). The upside is the flurry of ideas and pictures and commentary that's flung around online. Indulge me, won't you—and become a fan or follower of HC&G?

SOPHIE DONELSON
Editor in Chief