This Polychrome New Orleans Home Expands the Notion of "Family" Living

This story is part of our annual look at the state of American design. This year, we’re highlighting work that shines through an acrimonious moment—and makes the case for optimism.

On a sticky summer night in New Orleans, in our candy-apple-red dining room, my husband, his life partner, and I ate red beans and rice and scribbled lighting cues on a script for an adaptation of the 1980s cult horror/comedy flick Evil Dead II. That fall we would stage it in a motel pool roiling with synchronized swimmers, puppets, and trapeze performers. The mezzanine above us brimmed with costumes. A fog machine, PA system, and strobe—among many other lights—awaited deployment. Soon, in the double-height living room crowned with an aerial-rig-ready vaulted ceiling, we’d teach cast members how to set them up and take them down for each of our eight shows.

This labor of love had nothing to do with our day jobs. My husband, Philip Stalcup, is an ER physician; his longtime partner, Elise (her name has been changed at her request), is an environmental attorney; and I’m a news reporter on the local crime beat. But we all share a passion for theater. And we also share a house that both suits our individual lifestyles and allows us to pursue our passion.

I began dating Phil in January 2020 after meeting him at the Canal Street location of NOLA Pole & Aerials, the studio where we train. We’d both been active in parades and with local theatrical troupes for years. He and Elise, an aerialist and a water ballet enthusiast, had recently bought a double lot in the St. Roch neighborhood for $56,798 from the New Orleans Redevelop-ment Authority. They did so with the goal of creating two autonomous yet connected residences that could house friends, lovers, and collaborators, accommodating their 30-year partnership as it shifted from romantic to primarily artistic.

"This interplay of light, color, and movement aligns to the clients. They are plural in who they are as people and the things they engage in."

—James Carse, architect