Living with Art: Neon, Prints and Design Objects

Why the old rules no longer apply

For much of the twentieth century, collecting followed a fairly rigid script. Paintings belonged on the wall, sculpture was given its pedestal, and anything touched by popular culture or youth aesthetics was often treated as less serious. Interiors were expected to look tasteful in a narrow and highly predictable way.

That hierarchy now feels outdated. The most interesting interiors are shaped less by convention than by judgement, and they usually reveal far more about the person living in them. A work by Javier Calleja, or a piece such as Heads, can set the tone of a room far more convincingly than a generic decorative object ever could.

That does not mean everything belongs everywhere. Good interiors still depend on proportion, placement, and restraint. What has changed is that collectors now have a much wider range of objects through which to show that judgement.

A broader way of collecting

One reason contemporary collecting feels so at ease in domestic interiors is that collectors no longer think in neat categories. The same person may be drawn to an editioned print, a ceramic sculpture, a design object, and a vinyl figure without feeling the need to rank them. What links them is not the medium, but taste, curiosity, and a good eye.

That helps explain why works by KAWS now sit so comfortably within serious private collections. Their appeal does not depend on pretending to be anything other than what they are. They belong to a collecting culture in which art, design, and contemporary iconography overlap without self-consciousness, as much in the home as in the wider field of urban art.

Seen this way, the objects in a room stop feeling like accessories. They begin to shape the space more actively, and the relationship between wall, shelf, and floor becomes much more interesting.

The collector who understands that a vinyl figure and a lithograph can share the same visual field without one diminishing the other is already thinking beyond the old divide between fine art and collectible object.

When furniture enters the picture

Furniture has also become a more deliberate part of the conversation. Limited pieces by designers working between art, craft, and design are no longer treated as background. They are chosen for the same reasons a good work is chosen: authorship, material quality, and the sense that they can hold their own in a room.

When a strong artwork shares a space with furniture that has real character, the result is often better than a perfectly matched interior. A little tension between image and object, or between graphic force and quieter materials, gives a room texture. It feels considered without looking over-rehearsed.

Prints and objects in dialogue

One of the pleasures of arranging art at home lies in the relationship between what hangs on the wall and what occupies the space below it. A print gives you an image and a point of focus; a sculpture or object adds weight, rhythm, and interruption. Put the two together well and the whole room begins to feel different.

A lithograph by Takashi Murakami above a console creates one kind of effect. Add a sculptural piece beneath it, and the eye is pulled down into the room and back up again. That simple shift often turns a wall from a display surface into part of the space itself, which is one reason prints work so well in interior design.

Scale matters enormously here. An object that is too small will disappear, while one that is too emphatic may flatten everything around it. Colour matters too, though usually in a quieter way: when a surface below picks up a note from the work above, the pairing feels resolved without seeming too eager to prove the point.

Living with neon

Neon has a rather unusual place in a domestic interior because it is both artwork and source of light. It changes a room very quickly, but in the home it tends to work best when it is treated as art first and atmosphere second. That order matters.

The strongest neon works are not chosen simply because they glow well in the dark. They succeed because the image itself is strong enough to hold the wall. A piece such as Basquiat's The Crown has exactly that quality: direct, familiar, and strong enough to stand on its own. The same goes for Keith Haring's Barking Dog, which has so much snap and clarity that it reads almost like a drawn line in the air.

Warhol’s imagery also makes particular sense in neon because it already belongs to a world of repetition, packaging, and public display. Andy Warhol Campbell’s Soup Can feels especially at home in this format, sitting somewhere between Pop image, sign, and luminous object. In all three cases, the work benefits from a little distance and a little calm around it. Neon rarely improves when forced to compete with too many other visual claims.

Placement matters just as much as subject. One strong neon will usually do more for a room than several weaker points of light. It also needs space around it, because part of its effect lies in the halo it throws onto the wall. Used well, neon brings atmosphere, but also a certain edge.

Skate decks as wall works

The skate deck has become a remarkably effective support for contemporary imagery, not only because of its cultural associations but because of its shape, thickness, and physical presence. It offers something a framed print does not: a vertical format with real edges, real depth, and a stronger physical relationship to the wall.

That is why skate decks work so well at home. Hung in a tight grouping, they can give a wall real rhythm and structure. A selection featuring iconic images by Andy Warhol, Jean-Michel Basquiat, or Roy Lichtenstein shows just how naturally bold graphic language lends itself to this format. One good example is the Andy Warhol's Brillo Skate Deck, where Pop imagery and objecthood are especially well matched.

The material contributes to that effect. Maple has warmth, density, and a tactile honesty that becomes even more noticeable when the decks are placed near polished stone, lacquered surfaces, or quieter works on paper.

Vinyl figures and art toys

The art toy market has matured to the point where its best pieces can now work very convincingly as collectible sculpture. Their roots in toy culture remain part of the charm, but what makes them genuinely useful in an interior is that they bring humour, character, and cultural memory without losing formal presence.

They do, however, need careful placement. Scattered loosely around a room, they can begin to look accidental. Grouped with intention, they gain far more clarity, and a shelf starts to feel less like storage and more like a considered display. A combination such as BE@RBRICK Keith Haring 10 1000%, BE@RBRICK Andy Warhol Marilyn, and BE@RBRICK Jean-Michel Basquiat V6 works because the pieces speak to one another through scale, surface, and iconography.

What matters is not simply owning a recognisable figure, but understanding how it sits in space. Vinyl pieces benefit from clean sightlines, enough height to avoid being swallowed by the things around them, and a setting that gives shape to their silhouette. A work by KAWS, for example, reads very differently when isolated against a plain background than when squeezed between books, lamps, and clutter. For collectors interested in that crossover between sculpture, icon, and object, KAWS’s evolution as an icon offers a useful point of reference.

There is also a tonal advantage to these works. A piece such as KAWS BFF Black or KAWS Companion Grey can take the edge off a room that has started to feel a little too solemn. Used well, that note of wit makes a collection feel more alive and much less self-important.

Grouped with intent, vinyl figures read as a display. Dispersed without thought, they read as clutter. The difference lies entirely in the quality of the arrangement.

Ceramic, porcelain, and quieter materials

In interiors that include neon, vinyl, or strongly graphic works, ceramic and porcelain often play a balancing role. They slow the room down. Their surfaces hold light differently, and their material history introduces a different pace into the arrangement.

That is especially true of works that sit somewhere between sculpture and domestic object. Ai Weiwei's Coca-Cola Glass Vase and Javier Calleja Pot Pop Top Flower Vase are compelling partly because they preserve that ambiguity. They are not merely useful forms, but neither do they turn their backs on the language of use.

Ceramic also asks something different of the eye. Where neon projects outward and vinyl tends to announce its contour immediately, ceramic draws attention through surface, finish, and weight. It often works best where it can be seen at closer range — on a console, pedestal, or low shelf — so that glaze, shadow, and proportion have a chance to register properly.

Placed beside a more graphic or playful work, ceramic pieces often bring a necessary stillness. That contrast can be more effective than obvious harmony, because it allows each object to sharpen the reading of the other. In a mixed interior, these quieter works are often what stop the room from trying a little too hard.

Looking after the collection

A domestic collection also has practical needs, and those are rarely the glamorous part of the story. Light remains one of the biggest risks, especially for works on paper, prints, and other sensitive surfaces. Direct sunlight is best avoided altogether, and UV-filtering glazing can add an extra layer of protection for framed works. Museums and conservators also stress the importance of keeping light levels low for paper-based works and of avoiding strong artificial light where possible.

Environmental stability matters just as much. Paper and wood are especially vulnerable to fluctuations in temperature and relative humidity, which is why a cool, stable room is usually far better than a dramatic one. In practice, that means keeping works away from radiators, heating vents, damp spots, and walls that receive prolonged sun or condensation.

Hanging systems and supports deserve equal care. A work that is poorly installed is not simply badly presented; it is at risk. In that sense, looking after a collection properly is part of collecting well, however unromantic that may sound. For collectors who want to go further, our guides to print framing, storage and display, and preserving fine art prints offer a more detailed starting point.

Living with the collection

What makes a collection memorable is rarely the number of works it contains. More often, it is the sense that each object has been given the right conditions in which to speak. A room becomes convincing not when every surface is activated, but when scale, spacing, and contrast have been judged with care.

That is why contemporary collecting works so well in domestic interiors when it is approached with patience. A neon, a ceramic piece, a deck, or a vinyl figure can each transform a room, but they do so in different ways. The real skill lies in knowing what kind of presence each one brings, and in resisting the temptation to make every piece perform at once.

At its best, a home collection does more than display taste. It creates a visual rhythm, moving the eye from wall to shelf and from object to object, until the room feels more deliberate, more personal, and much more alive.