Home Matters: How Our Homes Shape Us, and We Shape Them

by Penny Wincer

As an interiors photographer, Penny Wincer found that walking through a stranger’s home, listening to them explaining the history of the space, and the meaning of precious objects, was one of most joyful aspects of her work. And in Home Matters Penny does exactly that, taking us through the houses of 13 artists, designers and writers, inspiring us to reflect on how we want our own homes to feel.

Through beautiful photographs, interviews and Penny’s own reflections on the homes that she has lived in over the years, Home Matters brings together multiple perspectives, all centred on how we create homes to meet our needs. Looking at an eclectic range of spaces that are not often included in these conversations, each chapter of Home Matters considers a different aspect of what goes into creating a home, inviting the reader to reflect on their own memories, needs and constraints.

This book is for those who want to think deeply about their homes, as well as be inspired by the beauty and joy that others have created within their own spaces. Through asking us to consider our pasts, our current needs and to examine the values we want our homes to reflect, Home Matters shows what is possible when we look within ourselves to turn a house into a home. And when we let go of the idea of the perfect home – one that can never be achieved – we can embrace the home that works for our lives as they are.

Genres: Nonfiction, Architecture

237 pages, Kindle Edition

Published August 29, 2024

Reviews

[Dani]

I came across this book at exactly the right time, just as we’ve decided to make our current house work (instead of buying a bigger one). I loved the variety of homes featured and the creative ways each family adapted the house to their needs - fresh inspiration to add more function and more joy to our spaces.

[Jenny · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a gem. 💛

Deeply moving and beautiful — I felt so seen and understood, like words (and allowance) were being given to feelings I have harbored for years. A real balm for whatever shame I had internalized for being sensitive to aesthetics/color/meaning in a space that feels so private and (mostly) self-serving.

Will return to this many times for companionship and insight

[Bex · Rating 5 out of 5]

A moving read

I really loved this book. So thoughtful and thought-provoking. A hugely interesting mix of homes and homeowners. I was so moved by many of the descriptions of home and what a home means. Ultimately, hugely comforting and inspiring.

[Joy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautiful book.

[Liz · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this book. I work in the mental health care field and have never thought about the impact of home design. This was a beautiful, captivating and inspiring read.

[Grace · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rare five stars from me. I read this book because I saw it at my local library, and borrowed it out of curiosity as I’ve written a fair bit about homes myself. At first I thought Wincer was not saying anything new but as the book progressed, I became completely persuaded by the cogent chapter structure, the beautiful calm photographs Wincer has taken to richly illustrate every other page, and most of all, her conviction that we should think deeply about what homes mean, and write about that. It’s not an easy thing to achieve, and certainly not easy to do without pretension. Wincer’s moving book makes the case beautifully. My one criticism is that she kept coming back to her own, sprawling, childhood home in ways that didn’t always make it clear that she is aware of her privilege, and her friends’ houses, which form the focus on the book alongside Wincer’s own homes, also evidence abundant cultural capital, if not always the economic sort. However, the key themes spoken through the chapters, and the lessons learned about articulating the deepest meanings of home, transcend my concerns. This is a lovely book *****

[Manivannan Devendran · Rating 4 out of 5]

At a time when I'm just starting to think about renovations for my new home, this book was perfect timing. A reminder to make a house your home by choosing things not because they are trendy but how they speak to you. Somehow almost everyone she spoke to for this book either lost something or someone and found peace in the space of homes.

[Aija Vanaga · Rating 3 out of 5]

Listened to it as an audiobook, it was an impulse to reimagine and rethink my relationship with home and what it means.

[Ryan Harris · Rating 5 out of 5]

The moment I sat down in the chair, I knew. I’ve gotten better at recognizing this certainty.

It sits at the right price, above cheap and below luxury, so that it hurts just enough to feel right. It tells me to put my arm over the edge and cross my legs in a way that feels like me. I feel its comfort.

Two of these for the balcony. They are displayed with a pot between them. Yes, the baby blue eucalyptus I admired at the garden centre yesterday could go right there.

Jasmine up the concrete side walls. Gardenias and licorice plants by the privacy screens. Keep the balustrades clear for egress and the view of the figs below.

Online shopping wasn’t cutting it. I had to venture to Enfield and Alexandria to touch and photograph and reality-check.

What are you like to sit on? What do you smell like?

I delete the art BlueThumb wants me to buy on sale. I don’t like the feeling of urgency.

I mentally commit to the torso sculpture and small brushstroke painting I saw in Woolloomooloo. They represent health and summer.

Over coffee, I tell my friend the dining table in Bondi Junction was perfect the moment I saw it. The bed was wrong though, upholstered as if by a child. The rattan one I overlooked online was the obvious choice in person. I lust over the leather sling wood-framed lounge chair I don’t need, with its perfect amount of give and curved arms that demand to be caressed.

My friend tells me art should have stories. Like when my neighbours gave me a guided tour of their collection on New Year’s Eve, recounting each piece. The same neighbours who prompted my decision to move to this new apartment, in the same building, with a balcony on the top floor overlooking the neighbourhood I love. Because I wanted to host them as they hosted me. Because I had planned it for years but never committed. Because I needed the balcony for a dog.

This space will be my gallery for them. My small bar and restaurant. A sanctuary for me to read, play guitar, and dance on the wooden floorboards. I don't really need a rug, do I? The space is so open and clean without it.

I need this space to be free from clutter. I need it to cook and bathe and wash and sleep and loaf.

I do not want it to be so complete though that a woman sees no room for herself; to make adjustments and assert her environmental will.

A bookcase? To delete Goodreads and live completely in the physical world. I read in a book, this one, that books are art objects that tell stories of transformation.

Would my friend who became a photographer when I became an urban planner do a print for me? His work embodies his sardonic humour and calm stillness. I want my walls to make me smile. Perhaps the one of the minimalist childcare centre.

I play with the idea of purchasing an item from every store in Summer Hill. Pillows, throws, glassware, candles, tea towels, a lemon juicer, a whittled wood sparrow from the kids’ toy store, a Batman figurine from the adult toy store. Strewn about for guests to guess.

Even the songs I write have started to take on a new tone. As airy as having the sliding doors completely open.

This is my project now. A process of materializing the self. A space for the people I love and might come to love.