It has been said people look like their pets.
In this case, Bill Ward is the image of his downtown loft. The Denver artist and entrepreneur, wearing a tailored T-shirt, jeans and square-toed boots, smiles wide and talks fast, apologizing to answer his nonstop cellphone.
Ward is a whirlwind of energy and styles. So is his three-room flat, with its mod gold velvet sofa, brushed steel coffee table, wood statue of Don Quixote, and a mix of his own paintings and collage pieces.
Ward, 31, who a few years ago sold his share in a local dating service and started an advertising firm, possesses another quality that shows up in his surroundings – a compulsive sense of order.
Attention to space, Ward says, not eclectic décor, was top priority when he moved into this one-bedroom, one-bath loft north of Coors Field on Blake Street.
Take his closet, for instance. It looks as though his mother sneaked in to fold and put in proper place every shirt, sock and shoe.
Ward, after all, is a bachelor.
But Mom hasn’t touched his stuff. And you won’t find a big TV or entertainment unit here. Instead, Ward unrolls a projection screen when he wants to watch a DVD. His stereo sits inside in a slate tile box that doubles as a side table. Two slim speakers are mounted inconspicuously in the corners.
The gold sofa even fits the orderly plan. It folds out into a bed.
An avid cyclist, Ward stows his three bikes – squeaky-clean and equally spaced – high on one wall, as if they’re part of the overall design.
Modern and traditional furniture, art that’s whimsical, urban and serious all share this small space.
“In everything I do, I like to have flair,” says Ward. “Ordinary is boring.”
Such an unlikely mix works because the palette is simple: white and exposed brick walls, hardwood floors, stainless-steel kitchen appliances, and countertops and tables kept free of clutter.
All that’s here is functional or sentimental, or both.
In the bedroom, a walking stick Ward used to climb Mount Fuji leans against a framed photo of a Beijing street shot by local artist Jared David Paul.
“Everything has its own meaning,” Ward says.
Including his own art. When a visitor glances at an elaborate three-panel collage that appears to tell a special – maybe even painful – story, he asks her if she gets it.
“It’s easier than you think,” he says, a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Ward waits for her brain to click: Rock, paper and scissors.
This collage, the photo and walking stick he will hold on to. Other items are bound to go, when he no longer needs them or when Ward – ever-seeking change and the thrill of getting there – stumbles across the next must-have item.
Looking around his place, Ward says, “It’s a constant process of elimination.”
From one month to the next Bill Ward’s loft shows off some new piece of art or furniture. But unless he made it, any fresh addition likely isn’t “new.”
Eyes and mind wide open, Ward has found or bought secondhand most of what’s here. It’s a matter of paying attention wherever he goes. Karma may play a part, as well.
Shopping for a birthday card at Decade on South Broadway, Ward spied his gold velvet sofa, priced at about $250.
Several shops in the area carry a mix of new and secondhand furniture and accessories.
When a now ex-girlfriend went to trash a glass oval table top, Ward took it home, where he transformed it into a giant face that looks down from his living room wall.
He paid $4 at a garage sale for 12 deco-style glass squares – believed to be the work of Higgins (Frances and Michael) – that hang above a half- wall.
The drafting desk: a castoff from his dad.
The metal coffee table: same story, but from a neighbor.
“It just didn’t fit his place,” Ward says. “I said I liked it, and he gave it to me.”
Fortunate he may be, but not lucky. Ward parts with most things in the same way he finds them.
He once donated a Herman Miller ultra-suede chair to Goodwill.
And he sold his hand-carved four-poster mahogany bed – headboard, box spring and all – to a friend, for $700.
“It didn’t fit with my style anymore,” Ward said.
Go figure. For $108 at Home Depot and eight hours of work, he built a platform bed frame of wood, then covered it with a synthetic faux-wood-grain material and stained it.
“It’s like house-siding veneer,” Ward said.
“I’ve had a lot of art projects go awry,” he said. “I actually surprised myself. It looks terrific.”
