New vistas in domestic psychology Published Jan. 29, 2010 By Steve Snyder Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst Public Affairs JOINT BASE MCGUIRE-DIX-LAKEHURST, N.J. -- "Know thyself" is a piece of wisdom dating all the way back to Greek antiquity. But what if self-knowledge is also the surest path toward designing a beautiful home? What if, in discovering what you specifically value and what relaxes you, you could build upon that knowledge to design a home worthy of your aspirations? How would it feel to blend color, shapes and organization into a mix that could transform the cold sterility of a pit stop or way station into a sanctuary congenial to cultivating art, reason and beauty? Not every house is a home, but virtually all are capable of making the transition into one. That's the message delivered by interior designer Denny Daikeler in her book, What Color Is Your Slipcover? Ms. Daikeler visited McGuire Library on Jan. 20 as part of a guest lecturer series and didn't disappoint the small coterie of serious readers who attended. Alternately passionate or thoughtful and jocular or serious, the author considers the home to be what Sociologist Christopher Lasch once described as "a haven in a heartless world." But constructing a haven involves attaining a degree of self-knowledge that can't be bought in a super market or through any sophistries peddled on Madison Avenue. "None of us will ever be happy until we reconnect with who we really are," writes Daikeler in the introduction to her book. And "deep inside of you and everyone else is a home-design personality." Your home-design personality is simply "your lifetime of accumulated visuals, joys, laughter, observations and values. You've collected them, even though you've not respected them. When you 'remember' this design personality, take back your own identity and start to live it, you will be happy, confident, enlightened and safe." Thinking about your favorite things, even if they're as simple as a spoon or fork, is a great way to think about home design, according to the author. Homes need to be organized around a guiding principle dear to the owner's psyche. An athlete's home, for example, would probably not look like a dwelling housing an artist or banker. While books would be found in profusion in an intellectual's home, a chef's abode might well possess an abundance of pots and pans, instead. Family or living rooms often arouse intense conflict over how they are to be organized. Many men with a technocratic bent, for instance, fight to place oversized televisions in their living rooms. Their mates, on the other hand, seem invariably to favor paintings, specialized furniture or objects d'art as showcases of visual bliss. While eyes may be mirrors to the soul, living rooms often turn into battlegrounds because of differing perceptions of the true and beautiful. Capt. Sheri Patton, 56th Stryker Brigade, found the author's lecture to be very relevant to military concerns because of the great number of times most military families have to change quarters over a career. Families finding themselves in what seems like continual transit may derive great benefits from studying the author's home-bred philosophy. Felicia Phillips, a military spouse who's in charge of rounding up the library's visiting authors, displayed a set of hand-carved knives she's carted around to many duty stations. She said the knives served as her organizing principle around which she decorated her various homes. She said she got the idea from Denny Daikeler. The military journalist covering Daikeler's visit admitted to setting up his home in Pennsylvania along the lines of an art gallery. One room honors family and ancestors, with photos only inches apart. Another is dedicated to time spent in Germany with magnificent mountains dominating scenic landscapes and beer simmering in the sunset. Still another room contains huge posters capturing the essence of personal heroes ranging from Muhammad Ali to Steve "Hercules" Reeves and from Spiro Agnew to Norman Mailer. I told the book gathering the motif for my place was formed during college days in the '60s, when giant posters of larger-than-life types like the Hell's Angels, dominated many a dorm. I just transferred nostalgia from my college days and European sojourn into the ancestral home I've inherited. The ladies smiled politely at my obsessions and I chose not to gauge the depths of what may have been their subtle revulsion. But I'm sure Denny Daikeler was simpatico! I was letting it all hang out - especially my "design personality."