AT HOME W/ KRISTIN YEZZA

Words by Brienne Walsh

Photography by Kelley Shaffer

Florals by Kate Rutter

When Kristin Yezza moved into her house in Shaker Heights, Ohio, where she currently lives with her husband and three-year-old son, she knew she had to do a lot of work to make it a home. "The kitchen had to become a kitchen, and the bathrooms were basically falling apart," she laughs. So when she began searching for objects for the renovation, she realized that what she was envisioning was either too expensive for her budget or didn't exist. "I would look at these spaces that I was trying to create in our house and think, well, it needs to be this color or shape to complement whatever else is going on," she says.

"AND THEN, I WOULD JUST MAKE IT"

Yezza, who grew up in Ohio, but moved to Chicago to attend a graduate program in cognitive psychology at the University of Chicago, did not identify as an artist before becoming a mother. Prior to having her son, she worked on strategy for a hospitality group that opened restaurants around Chicago. Yezza's childhood had been full of creativity and material experimentation, however. Both of her parents are artists trained at the Cleveland Institute of Art — her father keeps four ceramic kilns in the basement to this day — and her twin sister is a graphic artist. Even still, Yezza never thought that a creative career was her destiny. "My sister was the creative one, and I was the smart one," she says. "When you're young, and people tell you what you're good at, you just kind of stick with it."

The new home in Shaker Heights, along with motherhood, changed Yezza's perception of herself. At home without a job for the first time in her adult life, she realized that the only person who can define who you are is yourself. "When you have a baby, it's not like you have to learn for a while how to become a mom, and then you get a badge that says you are a mother," she says. "You literally have your baby and become a mom; there's no gray area." Yezza realized the same could apply to becoming an artist. "Whatever you're practicing day in and day out, that's who you are," she says.

"IF YOU'RE MAKING THINGS, THEN YOU'RE AN ARTIST"

Yezza, who works in the brief intervals when her son is napping or asleep at night, learned how to make things by creating them for her own home. For example, a tent for her dining room ceiling made from folded Ikea linen curtains and PVC tubes; a cloud mirror from paper clay for her son's bedroom; and a sofa she bought on Facebook Marketplace and wrapped in an old Ikea Flokati rug. "I remember seeing a photograph of a giant artwork in someone's house," she says. "I knew that if I were to buy something like that, it would cost millions of dollars. So instead, I just tried to make something similar myself." Her first commercial collection was a series of Kokeshi pepper grinders she developed with a Japanese craftsman for her own kitchen and sold in editions on Etsy. The pandemic encouraged her to create a brand — she currently works under the moniker "oon," which is the phonetic reference to the French feminine article "une." She began selling creations such as lamps, collages, sculptures, vases, and candle holders to collectors through her website. She is now represented by LES Collection.

Yezza, who works in a variety of materials, including paper, clay, charcoal, and plaster, finds inspiration in her daily life as a mother. For example, on a recent outing with her son, she noticed the big wood beams on an old playground at a park. The arrangement of the beams made her recall a space in her house that she wanted to fill with a wall sculpture. The final piece, which she calls "petal pillar," is composed of canvas, wood, paint, putty, and thumbtacks. "I carry projects I want to work on in the back of my head, and when we're out, and I see something that reminds me of something else, I piece it all together," she says. She trusts that if she has a vision, she'll eventually be able to manifest it.

"I KNOW WHO I AM AND THAT I'LL FIGURE IT OUT"

Nature is a mirror for Yezza. "The beauty we see in a flower is the flower itself," she says. "I could never even attempt to replicate any of that because I'm not tapped in that way." Yezza instead relies on her instincts to come up with the forms she uses in her work — the visions and shapes she sees when she peers from one room of her house into the next. "If there are a lot of curves, then I want to make something sharp to contrast that," she says. Ultimately, she looks for a feeling in her gut that tells her something needs to be made.

"WHEN PEOPLE ARE REALLY, REALLY WHO THEY ARE, THAT'S WHAT INSPIRES ME THE MOST," she says. "THAT'S WHAT I TRY TO DO"

Yezza's work falls outside of easy categorization. Still, it is nevertheless redolent of the simple logic of drawings by Agnes Martin, the material strangeness of sculptures by Lee Bontecou, and the singular aesthetic of the interior designer Syrie Maugham, who also appropriated vintage furniture and made it her own. "No one came out of the womb a genius at what they do," Yezza says. "It's a process of trial and error. We're all on a path toward something, and I'm just grateful to get my visions out into the world." Her Shaker Heights home is still a work in progress. When she finishes the structural renovations, she plans on using the space as a playground to refine her style. "We bought it as a 'forever home,' but nothing is ever certain, so who knows, maybe the wind will blow us elsewhere someday," she says.