In a seemingly unlikely move for an interior designer, Barry Wilker penned a novel, during the commercially sluggish year of 2010, about “three unique sisters, each with a different quaint and innocently kooky demeanor.” But this feat would seem unlikely only to those who haven’t spent much time with Wilker. To those who have spent even a few minutes in his presence, his writing such a novel seems likely—even protocol. Simply add it to his list of other imaginative pursuits, such as painting intricate works of art (which he does quite well) or taking acting classes (he’s been there and done that too, in L.A.). He also pens poetry, naturally.

Wilker is a man who oozes artistic possibility, his creative gifts spiraling in disparate and improbable directions. “It doesn’t have to be all blue toile,” Wilker said of his aesthetic philosophy, which unfurls beyond the creation of rooms. “Life doesn’t always have to be a matching plaid and a solid color.”

 

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