How a Society Photographer Fell in Love With an Unexpected Upstate Victorian Home

As her juicy new memoir hits the shelves this week, Jessica Craig-Martin unveils her Hudson Valley hideaway where the ridiculous meets the sublimeJessica Craig-Martin in the bedroom of her son, Finbar. To the right of a movie poster from Ghana is a photograph by Jason Noyes.I had no intention of buying the house on Willard Place. I only added it to the short list of Hudson properties I planned to visit out of sheer morbid curiosity. The house looked completely crazy online, with its wild colors and eccentric embellishments, inside and out—a confounding mix of hideous and fabulous. I felt compelled to check it out in person. Real estate agent extraordinaire Julia Crowley made the appointment at Willard the first stop on our house-hunting itinerary. The artist Helen Marden, a dear friend and owner of the nearby Hotel Tivoli, decided to come along for the ride. “What are we doing here?” she asked when we got out of the car. I’d forgotten to mention this purely voyeuristic side trip.The polychrome exterior of Craig-Martin's house in Hudson, New York. Craig-Martin on the front steps of her home with her beloved Roo, a whippet and chihuahua mix. Above the mantel hangs a painting by Haitian artist Ramphis Magloire. To the left is an etching by Brice Marden, a gift from the artist to Craig-Martin’s son on the occasion of his birth. To the right is a Fernand Léger print, a gift from the homeowner’s artist father, Michael Craig-Martin. A mix of Indian, Moroccan, Italian, Chinese, and Indonesian art and furnishings testifies to a well-traveled life. "I Regret I Am Able to Attend: A Life Among Artists" by Jessica Craig-MartinI was fully expecting the polychrome Victorian house to be crammed full of furniture, as seen in the online listing. But when Helen, Julia, and I stepped in, it was breathtakingly empty, save for shafts of winter sunlight that illuminated the generous rooms and old wood floors. It became clear that the grotesque furniture I’d seen in the photos was virtual—a terrifying misuse of AI. We sat on the old iron radiators, quietly absorbing the beautiful proportions and unexpected calm. It was fabulous—that was undeniable—but with five bedrooms, it was far more house than I was looking for, and seemed daunting for one person. Helen disagreed. At the next stop, she took one look at the house from the car and didn’t bother to get out.Craig-Martin seated on a chaise on the terrace off the dining room. A painting by Joe Brainard hangs above a vase from Regan & Smith in Hudson, New York. George Nakashima chairs surround a table from India made of dismantled boat parts. An Indonesian stool sits beside a rattan chaise beneath an Indian elephant mobile on the terrace. A barracuda sculpture by Dalwa Donoffre rests on an Aalto stool in the window bay of the dining room. Beside it, an Ashley Bickerton sculpture sits on a marble pedestal from Rajasthan, surrounded by Stone Age tools, a whale vertebra, and a turquoise bowl by Mary Heilmann. In the entry hall, a Josef Albers print is installed above a rustic table with a Cameroonian fertility figure. Over the following months I continued looking in the area, but nothing struck a chord. “You should be thinking about Willard,” Helen kept saying. “It’s a good house.” Completed in 1875, the classic Victorian was built during the whaling boom that enriched Hudson and dotted the town with other equally eccentric Victorian homes replete with multiple bow windows, terraces, and turrets. It had been standing empty and neglected for years, but a thorough assessment did not threaten any looming “old house” disasters. Unable to get the beauty of the place out of my mind, I made an offer.An ant sculpture from Deyrolle in Paris joins an array of copper pans in the kitchen. A pastel drawing by Finbar Craig-Martin hangs above a Chinese console table with bagel sculptures by Hanna Liden. I enlisted a friend to help me move in, though furniture would have to come later. We drove up from the city in a rented van filled with Moroccan rugs and two inflatable mattresses, and ate pizza on the floor in front of a roaring fire. Two years later, I can’t imagine living without the house’s spaciousness and light, or its grand old-world flourishes. Frankly, I don’t know how I coped for so many years without a Norma Desmond staircase. It seems unrealistic now to imagine life without one, which confirms my suspicion that luxury is a one-way trip.Artworks in the primary bedroom include (clockwise from far left) a painting by Michael Craig-Martin, a painting by Charlie Lucas (above mantel), a light sculpture by Theo Rosenblum (on mantel), a Jessica Craig-Martin photograph of Fran Lebowitz (floor), and a round painting on glass by Finbar Craig-Martin. A crayon drawing of the homeowner at age two by her mother, Jan Hashey, sits on a Balinese child’s chair in the bathroom. Jessica Craig-Martin in the bedroom of her son, Finbar. To the right of a movie poster from Ghana is a photograph by Jason Noyes. Craig-Martin’s son’s room has a Paul McCobb desk, an Eames chair modified by artists Eric Wesley and Piero Golia. and a poster of Ursula Andress from the movie Dr. No above a rustic kitchen cabinet. In Finbar’s room, a Nate Lowman pizza painting hangs beside a foam-core cutout of David Bowie. I added a red refrigerator and stove to match the kitchen’s vintage red Formica countertops, and a lifetime’s worth of art and ephemera, from artwork by my parents and friends to artifacts, textiles, and natural oddities collected on various travels. There are unnatural oddities, too. For example, I have a weakness for cheap Japanese plushy cushions, my favorite being a huge pink peach that, when viewed from a certain angle, morphs unmistakably into a huge pink ass. It is also evident that I favor crocodiles and alligators in any form, though if you asked me why, I couldn’t say. One thing is certain: We are a very long way from “form follows function.” Fortunately, at least to my eye, the house absorbed my proclivity for both the ridiculous and the sublime with grace. Helen was right. It is a good house, and it has welcomed me, perhaps recognizing in me a madness that in some way matches its own.The home office/library features an Alvar Aalto chair and stool, a low alligator table Craig-Martin found on the street in New York City, and a totem from the Solomon Islands displayed beside the fireplace. On the mantel, a Michael Craig-Martin hammer sculpture is surmounted by a Brice Marden etching. A tower of Hermès boxes holds a corner of the room. Detail of the Hermès box tower. Behind it is an etching by Joel Shapiro, a gift from the artist. A King Kong moment on the Hermès tower. Exterior view of Willard House and its eccentric, polychromatic Victorian façade. Jessica Craig-Martin’s memoir, I Regret I Am Able to Attend, publishes November 10, 2026.Not a subscriber? 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