Does Art Imitate Life, or Vice Versa? In Molly Kidd’s Oregon Living Room, the Answer Is Both

Where does life end and art begin? For most painters, the line blurs. For interior designers, it disappears entirely. If you’re building worlds for a living, what’s imitating what? In Molly Kidd's case, the question feels beside the point.

Her Oregon home – part family residence, part ‘living showroom’ – serves as both a manifesto of her soulful design philosophy and a reflection of the rugged landscape beyond its windows. Earthy, layered, and transportive, the 1980-built home sets the tone for her three ‘Kidds’ to roam and her Molly Kidd Studio clients to understand her world.

Nearly a year since its 2024 remodel, Molly reflects on the Design DNA of a living room that wears many hats – and shares five takeaways for creating one where design, memory, and meaning coexist.

Windows as Art

Apart from a single still life over the credenza, there’s little in the way of wall art in Molly’s living room, and that’s by design. With towering windows flanking a grand neutral fireplace, it’s immediately apparent why she resisted filling the walls. The view of the lush Oregon greenery, light filtering through the trees, does all the talking.

‘My windows are my art. I couldn’t cover them completely,’ explains the designer. Instead, she chose the softest possible veil: a set of drapery panels from Everhem that she describes as ‘“barely there” but enough to move in the breeze and create privacy from the deer.’ The effect is painterly, a whisper of movement against the stillness of the trees.

Let the architecture speak first. Coco Chanel once advised removing one piece of jewelry before leaving the house; if your living room has windows like these, you might not need any jewelry at all.

Texture as Color

‘Texture’ feels like the only acceptable answer to What’s your favorite color? in a room like this. Here, bespoke Venetian plaster walls, sustainable oak furniture, and natural limestone create contrast without visual noise.

‘Texture is the new color,’ Molly says. ‘To keep neutrals from falling flat, I relied on contrast: textured plaster against deep paint colors, linen against mohair, stone against glass.’

This way, the palette feels worn in, not washed out – nuanced and slightly salt-of-the-earth, like it's seen things; lived a little. The tactile layers are what keep the room from tipping into a more formulaic brand of minimalism. ‘The mood I was after was quiet abundance, art-forward but deeply livable, like a European country home left to age beautifully,' she muses.

Unexpected Scale

When it comes to styling a fireplace, the rule of thumb is generally the bigger, the better. Oversized mirrors that dwarf the mantel are the look du jour – which is precisely why Molly went the other way.

‘I chose a smaller, aged wood mirror because scale isn’t always about size,’ she says of the gem she uncovered locally, tucked behind a rack of vintage Levi’s (her other vice). ‘A smaller, more narrow piece gives the plaster mantel and surrounding textures room to breathe. It draws you closer with weight, which feels more personal.’

Our instinct to juxtapose still applies, just in reverse. Going smaller – rather than grander – brings levity and intimacy, aligning more with the ease of modern interiors. It invites you in rather than overwhelming.

Nature's Presence

This remodel wrapped in fall 2024, and now, one year later, its seasonality lingers. ‘I see how intentional that season was in shaping the space,’ says Molly. ‘The layered textiles, the glow of antique lighting against moody afternoons, the grounding weight of the floors with billowing sheer drapery everywhere. It all feels especially right as the air cools and our backyard forest turns gold.’

But beyond fall’s ephemera, the Pacific Northwest’s palette is the true muse. ‘Oregon’s landscape completely shaped it,’ she says. ‘The palette is built on reflections of the land: evergreen shadows, real stone, and nature’s hues – chocolate browns, putty neutrals, and plaster whites.’

So nature’s presence is literal, but it’s the emotional register that makes this living room feel alive. ‘Client work often begins with a floral arrangement; this home began with a feeling,’ Molly explains. ‘It had to feel grounded in the Pacific Northwest landscape – earthy, foggy, timeless – and filled with things that carry story.’

It's evidence that the most transportive rooms don’t mimic nature; they’re immersed in its rhythm.

The 50/50 Rule

There was a time when a beautifully designed room could get away with being entirely new. Year by year, though, the pendulum has swung toward patina. ‘I have a 50/50 promise to all of my projects that 50% of the home will be vintage to honor sustainability and the footprint of MKS,’ says Molly. For her own home, that ratio leans even further: ‘My home is one of the few that is nearly 80% vintage!’

The carved sideboard, for instance, is a mid-century Danish piece by Henning Kjærnulf, which is soulful in spirit, practical in form. ‘It hides the unglamorous – games, candles, family photos, remotes, chargers,’ Molly admits. On top, she layers vintage on vintage: hand-thrown Scandinavian vessels, a stack of garden and art books, an antique oil painting with, as she says, ‘all the right colors,’ and a 1930s bronze sculptural lamp (quota, met).

It’s not about adding old for the illusion of interest. ‘The mix of height, material, and patina keeps the composition alive,’ says Molly. Vintage only lands when it earns its place, be it through color, contrast, texture, or a story worth keeping.

The Edit

What are the key elements of a well-designed living room?

‘A well-designed living room has a deeply personal rhythm – a balance of comfort, proportion, imperfection that perfectly resembles you,’ notes Molly. ‘It’s not about everything matching; it’s about everything belonging.’

That belonging isn’t about symmetry so much as conversation. ‘To me, that means pieces that tell a story together: a structured sofa paired with something handmade, a lamp that casts a flattering, amber light, art hung just a bit lower than you’d expect so it feels intimate.’

It’s more natural that way. You can tell when a room has actually been lived in. There’s air between the objects, light that falls gently, warmth that can’t be staged. That’s part of why Molly invites her clients into her own home – it’s proof of concept.

How do you create a balanced living room?

Much of the beauty in this living room lies in its juxtapositions, offsetting pristine elements with texture or quirks. Take, for instance, the impossibly cozy shearling accent chair, obviously off-kilter candlestick, or the seating arrangement that refuses to play by the rules: a sofa, one chair on one side, two on the other.

‘Asymmetry felt right here, more human,' says Molly. 'The seating arrangement works because it encourages movement and conversation from every angle; no seat feels “left out.”’

Molly likens it to composing a piece of music: ‘you need highs and lows, but the rhythm has to hold,’ she explains. ‘When something looks a little unexpected yet entirely at ease, that’s when a room starts to hum.’

Balance, in Molly's world, has little to do with mirroring.

What design choices make this room timeless?

You can buy every so-called “timeless” piece on the market and still end up with a space that feels frozen in time. The problem isn’t actually the decor; it’s the approach. Rooms assembled all at once tend to age all at once, too.

‘A timeless living room feels collected, not decorated,’ says Molly. Like layers of sediment in rock, it’s built gradually. ‘Avoid anything too “of the moment,”’ she adds. ‘Patina, craftsmanship, and comfort never age.’

True timelessness, in other words, isn’t about resisting change – it’s about evolving slowly, and with intention.

What should every living room include?

As both the designer of the space and the person who lives – and occasionally works – there, Molly’s answer isn’t a luxury candle or a perfectly scaled rug. It’s simpler, and harder to fake. Every living room, she says, should have soul.

And no, you don’t need to abide by her studio’s 50/50 vintage rule or commission Venetian plaster walls to find it. Soul looks different for everyone. ‘Whether it’s a handmade chair, a mismatched lamp, or the scent of wood after it rains,’ notes Molly, that energy exists in the item that reminds you: this is home.

What gives this room its DNA isn’t the furniture or finishes, but the feeling behind them. Molly designs by instinct, attuned to how life should feel inside and what nature whispers outside. Be it a showroom, living room, or otherwise, that’s the secret to soul: story first, design second.

Design DNA is the Homes & Gardens series that breaks down beautiful rooms into their essential elements. Each installment dissects one interior and shows readers exactly what makes it work, from the anchor furniture and layout choices to color, lighting, and styling details.