I shot a casual photo of Lucy in front of our house this afternoon. She was happy in the warm summer sunshine. And I liked the perspective of the house behind her. It made her seem like the world’s friendliest guard dog.
After I posted the photo in a couple of places, a friend called me to say how much she loved it. Then she asked if I could take the same sort of picture of her dog in front of her house. I hesitated.
My house is an inexpensive old home in a mixed neighborhood. It was built in 1927. It originally didn’t even have running water. (I don’t know when the kitchen and bathroom were added.) I bought it six years ago as a cheap foreclosure. It’s nothing fancy.
My friend’s home is in a high-end suburb in a much nicer part of town. It’s worth about half a million dollars. The house has all the features that modern consumers want. But to anyone who understands symmetry and principles of design beauty, her house is a monstrosity. It’s an ugly crime against design.
How could I explain to my friend that her fancy house would look terrible as a background for her dog? How could I say that without insulting her taste?

How can I make sense of a world that’s fundamentally nonsensical?
I want to live a life my kids will want to emulate as they grow up
Ghost from my past haunts me, but leaves me without answers
Donald Trump’s jingoistic tribalism marks him as a dangerous buffoon
For rest of my life, I’ll constantly re-interpret mother I didn’t know
Are you ready for chaos when fed shutdown turns your gravity off?
A bully picked a fight that night — and now I’m dreaming about it
What do U.S. colleges sell today? Knowledge or just access to jobs?
Promises from childhood don’t always serve our needs today