When society photographer Jessica Craig-Martin first added the house on Willard Place to her real estate itinerary in Hudson, New York, she had zero intention of buying it. Drawn in by sheer morbid curiosity, she included the historic structure simply because it looked entirely wild online. Boasting eccentric embellishments and vibrant, unconventional colors both inside and out, the property presented a confounding mix of the hideous and the fabulous that demanded an in-person investigation.
Real estate agent Julia Crowley scheduled the Willard Place property as the very first stop on their house-hunting tour. Accompanying them for the ride was artist Helen Marden, a close friend and the owner of the nearby Hotel Tivoli. As they stepped out of the vehicle and stared at the whimsical façade, Marden immediately voiced what they were all thinking. "What are we doing here?" she asked, catching Craig-Martin off guard, as the photographer had completely forgotten to mention this purely voyeuristic side trip.
Expecting a cramped interior matching the chaotic online listing, Craig-Martin, Crowley, and Marden were instead met with a breathtakingly empty interior. Shafts of winter sunlight illuminated the generous, well-proportioned rooms and gleaming old wood floors. It quickly became apparent that the bizarre and grotesque furniture featured in the online marketing photos was entirely virtual—a jarring and misleading casualty of AI-generated real estate staging.
Finding themselves charmed, the trio sat quietly on the old iron radiators, absorbing the home’s striking architecture and unexpected calm. While the five-bedroom layout was undeniably fabulous, it represented far more space than Craig-Martin had initially envisioned for herself, making the prospect of maintaining it alone somewhat daunting. Marden, however, held a starkly different perspective, refusing to even step out of the car at their subsequent property stops as the Willard Place Victorian lingered in their thoughts.
Over the ensuing months, Craig-Martin continued touring properties across the region, but nothing managed to strike a meaningful chord. Throughout the search, Marden’s advice remained a constant refrain: "You should be thinking about Willard. It’s a good house."
Completed in 1875, the classic Victorian structure dates back to the local whaling boom that historically enriched Hudson and endowed the town with an array of architecturally eccentric homes defined by multiple bow windows, sweeping terraces, and striking turrets. Although the Willard Place property had stood empty and neglected for years, a comprehensive structural assessment revealed no lurking "old house" disasters waiting to drain a prospective buyer’s finances. Unable to shake the lingering allure of the historic building, Craig-Martin finally submitted an offer.
Moving day arrived with a rented van driven up from New York City, accompanied by a friend, a stack of Moroccan rugs, and a pair of inflatable mattresses. Lacking conventional furniture at the start, they dined on pizza served directly on the floor in front of a roaring fireplace. Two years later, Craig-Martin finds herself unable to imagine life without the home’s abundant natural light, sweeping spatial volume, and grand, old-world flourishes. Adjusting to what she describes as a classic Norma Desmond staircase has made her realize that luxury is very much a one-way trip from which there is no turning back.
To personalize the space, Craig-Martin integrated a red refrigerator and matching stove to complement the kitchen’s vintage red Formica countertops. The interior gradually filled with a lifetime’s worth of accumulated art, textiles, and ephemera. This eclectic curation features works created by her parents and friends alongside natural oddities, artifacts, and travel souvenirs. Alongside these high-minded pieces sit more playful, whimsical items, including a weakness for cheap Japanese plush cushions—most notably a giant pink peach that, from a specific angle, unmistakably resembles a large pink rear end. Her collection also heavily favors crocodiles and alligators in various material forms, an aesthetic preference she embraces even if she cannot fully explain it.
Leaning into an aesthetic that sits miles away from the traditional architectural maxim of "form follows function," Craig-Martin’s home gracefully absorbs her distinct proclivity for both the ridiculous and the sublime. Ultimately, Helen Marden’s initial intuition proved correct. The historic structure has welcomed its new owner warmly, perhaps recognizing a kindred spirit of eccentric charm within its walls.