“You don’t know how good you had it.” Says Steve, 75, to a portrait of himself painted by his late wife, Hanna. “But I’m not even angry anymore because I actually had true love in my life. I’m a lucky one.”

Steve spoke of Hanna’s passion for producing art, collecting art and giving art, as he walked me around their electric home, pointing out her stunning creations.

There was a pronounced freedom that I felt as my eyes gazed from one color to the next, from one art form to another. Hanna was bursting with expression, and if she liked it, she bought it. If she made it, she had thought it. No rules. No farmhouse chic or mid century modern. No colors to match nor attempt to be sovereign. She just liked what she liked and created as such. 

Pictured: Steve in his beautiful home and some art.