by Tiffany Thompson
The street-view of the early twentieth-century structure I live in presents as a weathered red brick building surrounded by renovation equipment and a lingering scent of cement and sawdust. Yet step through a gate to my side of the duplex carriage house, and you enter another world: an English garden my landlords cultivated, where bamboo, hydrangeas, a fig tree, and Japanese maple line a pebble pathway to a forest green door.
Inside, white walls are laced with art and hats while the compact kitchen expands to hold knick-knacks I keep collecting. A metal spiral staircase draws the eye upward through the low ceiling to another floor, where walls of windows wash a daybed in everchanging light.
My home is 400 square feet and, to me, feels grand. I found it when I was lost and debating whether to stay in North Carolina. It whispered to me: “You could live a big life here…”
For two decades, I’d been trying to live a big life in small spaces, including a nanny suite in Virginia, attics in Tennessee, garage apartments around the country, and a tiny walk-up studio in New York City.
The spatial and the spiritual
Spatially, three principles help me expand these places. First, keep things off the floor with floating shelves, chairs with legs, and dressers with feet. Second, use mirrors because they create the illusion of depth and size. Finally, go all the way up the wall; so, on the top of every bookcase is a container.
Spiritually, I lean on two practices for expanding myself: imagination and intention. Perhaps the best example of all this in action is when I host dinner parties.
When guests arrive, they discover my workspace has been transformed into a tiny theater. The single-room design creates an energy and intimacy reminiscent of a cubby hole café. I imagine guests are entering an experience called “Teatime with Tiffany.” The countertop is my stage, and the stove is my instrument. I dance around the kitchen with tiny pivots from table to chair to sink, like a Robin popping around her nest. The script is improvised, but I place a small deck of conversation cards on the table and let them guide us into unexpected and meaningful territories.
The limited space requires a limited guest list, and I’m intentional with my combinations. I once invited three women I met individually at a conference. Our shared experience grounded us and our diverse backgrounds expanded our understanding about what we had experienced. Another time, I realized that two of my friends knew each other, but the three of us had never spent time together. And of course, there was a pancake breakfast event with my friends Lynn, Devon, and her two kids. My single griddle set-up meant we had about two pancakes ready at any given moment and everyone watched with delight as we took turns eating.
Between imagination and intention, every time I host there is at least one moment when I become self-conscious. Questioning whether people are having fun, if I made the right dish, if I’m too over the top in how much I love having friends over to play. I find this happens when you share your deepest joys with people: you suddenly become painfully aware of how particular you are. In those moments I remind myself: life is a gift, this moment is gift, don’t try to control it, just share it.
Grand hospitality
These reflections emerged for me during a recent stay at London’s Shangri-La hotel. While basking in the beauty of the sweeping city views, my mind kept returning to my carriage house and a simple truth took flight in my heart: the grandeur of any space comes from the imagination and intention of the host.
The Shangri-La is stunning because each square inch feels intentional, whimsical. The paper-flower tree with small note cards ready for guests to inscribe their initials. The dry ice sweeping over the table as a layered sponge cake is presented. The hospitality was grand not because of the size but because of the depth of intention and imagination. Just like my hospitality is grand, and yours can be too.
The depth of our imagination can transform any space into a place of grand welcome. The depth of our intention to really see people can shift any meeting into an encounter. And most mysteriously, a deep attunement to our inner landscape can open us to experiencing big, bold, beautiful lives wherever we are. Even in a tiny carriage house.
All work at The Commons is published under Creative Commons license CC BY-NC-ND 4.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/
Tiffany Thompson is a singer, songwriter, and founder of Artistic Leadership. Driven by curiosity, Tiffany weaves the analytic rigor of her early training as a CIA leadership analyst with the explorative creativity of her songwriting artistry. She is the founder of Artistic Leadership, a creative consultancy and team development company that uses the power of art to unlock the creative potential in teams and people. Learn more about her work and music at:
