A World to Belong To: At Home with Jaclyn Bishop
"The Quiet Beauty of Home” is a conversation series that explores the soul of a space. Where beauty is rooted in meaning, and design is guided by values, not trends. Each interview offers a glimpse into how someone creates, lives in, and cares for their home with intention. We hope these stories inspire you to slow down, look closer to notice what matters, and honor the quiet details that make a space feel truly yours
Jaclyn Bishop is an experience designer whose work centers on building worlds people long to be part of. At home, in a 1970s farmhouse in the Arizona desert, she does the same for her family and everyone who walks through the door, creating a place where people feel welcome, comfortable, and free to be themselves. She draws on English and French interiors, with intricate millwork, layered textiles, and pattern, yet she calls her aesthetic aliveness. There is nearly always music playing somewhere in the house, and Jaclyn’s playlists set the rhythm of the family's day.
The natural world guides much of how she lives. She placed her plantings so that every window frames a view of green, tends an orchard of pomegranates, figs, and citrus through the desert’s two growing seasons, and looks to the cycle of planting, tending, and harvest as a model for moving through the seasons of family life. Inside, she keeps only what she truly loves, pieces that open doors to stories and conversations that might otherwise go unspoken.
In this edition of our Quiet Beauty of Home series, we sat down with Jaclyn for an in-depth conversation about the values that guide her family, the rituals that keep her grounded, the objects that carry her home’s soul, and why the one word she hopes her home whispers is wonder.
Can you share a little bit about yourself: what you do, where you live, and what home looks like for you right now?
My name is Jaclyn Bishop, and I'm an experience designer. I run a strategy studio that partners with companies and businesses to help them build a world for their brand to live in, one their clients long to be part of. It's a fascinating field, and I've loved letting my background in interior and landscape design shape the way I structure my work. We live in the Arizona desert in a 1970s farmhouse that we renovated about five years ago. My husband and I share it with our three sons and an orchard full of pomegranates, figs, pecans, grapefruit, lemons, oranges, peaches, apples, and mulberries. My husband is a beekeeper, so we also keep about 40,000 bees. I tend our chickens; we have a cat and a dog, and on any given day a stray lizard, frog, or snake finds its way inside thanks to my wonderfully wild boys. The summers here are challenging, but the desert gives us two growing seasons, so I spend much of the year learning to garden in extreme heat, and the cooler months find all of us outdoors enjoying very mild winters and lots of greens from the garden. All three boys play club soccer, so we're constantly on the move. Between games, we head to the mountains or to the California coast to surf. We love hiking, the outdoors, and nature, and we find so much rejuvenation there. In the end, home for me is this little family of mine. Wherever we are together, that is home, and I love this magical phase of our lives.
How would you describe the feeling of your home? What aesthetic or atmosphere inspires the space you've created?
I've drawn from a traditional English and French aesthetic: intricate millwork, layered artwork and textiles, and color used to create a sense of aliveness. Aliveness may be a hard thing to name as an aesthetic, but it's exactly what I'm after. I want people to step into my home and feel every one of their senses awaken. Our EverScent system gives the house its own signature fragrance through the HVAC, and I love that people recognize the smell of our home. Something is almost always cooking or baking, because food is central to who we are. I love that people come here to eat. My boys' friends spend many of their weekends with us, and I shop constantly, hoping they'll devour everything I bring home. Outside, roses climb the columns you can see from our windows. I grew up surrounded by green landscapes, so I positioned our plantings so that every window frames a view of green, a little reprieve from the desert heat. Inside, I'm drawn to the richness of linen and velvet, pattern and block prints. I love art and photography, and our home holds memorable pieces I've collected through vintage shopping or received as gifts from people I love. Put together, it all creates an aliveness I truly cherish.
If you had to name three core values that guide the way you live, what would they be, and why do those values matter to you?
Joy, abundance, and belonging. Joy comes first. I want people to feel joy when they're in our home and when they're with us. Abundance, for me, is about fullness more than finances: the feeling of being part of something rich and alive. And belonging ties it all together, the sense that you have a place and people who are yours. These three matter to me because they're what I hope every person who crosses our path carries away. Whether it's a neighbor, a client, or one of my boys' friends, I want each of them to feel they've had a small taste of the magic of the Bishop home. They also give our family a compass. When life gets full, and emotions run high, we can return to these three words and find our way back.
How do those values show up in your home? Are there small decisions, habits, or rituals that help bring them to life in your space?
This answer is always evolving. Who we are now looks very different from who we were when my husband and I first married and began having children. The small decisions, habits, and rituals we practice today took time to form, and they came through plenty of trial and error as we learned what to protect and safeguard in order to keep joy, abundance, and belonging alive in our home. Family life is full of intense emotions, and those three values have been our guideposts through all of it. I'm in a demanding season of motherhood, so solitude has become essential. I never miss my morning walk, and I follow it with meditation and centering prayer, where I try to learn from the divine. I guard my mornings fiercely, because once the kids are out the door, I'm with clients all day, and then I'm back in full-throttle kid schedules. Even then, I have to be present. Some of our family's most important conversations, and some of my greatest treasures, have happened in the car, driving from one place to the next. So I've learned to find my own center, to create a space of serenity, a sort of island within myself, so that when it's time to meet the fullness of life, I'm drawing from a well that has been replenished. I also protect time with my husband. The relationship we've built is one of the most fulfilling in my life because we've made an intentional effort to grow together and to keep becoming friends, whether on trips, on long drives, or in the moments between all the shuffling. I refuse to let us become passing trains.
Is there a daily ritual or moment in your home that brings you peace, inspiration, or a sense of rhythm?
Music. I have what I think of as a life soundtrack, and there's always something playing softly somewhere in our home, shifting with the season, the weather, and my mood. When I'm in a creative flow for work, I play a playlist I've built just for that. When I'm making Mexican food for dinner, it is always Ottmar Liebert. His Barcelona Nights album is my absolute favorite, and his guitar in the background while I make tacos or burritos is pure happiness. My husband doesn't mind the automatic hip movements that come along with cooking to his music either. Music has become a powerful ritual for us. It signals to my brain, and to my family's, what time of day it is: time to get ready and go, pump up time for a game, or time to wind down and put the house to sleep. Music has a way of administering exactly what we need when we need it. My Spotify is full of collected playlists that honor different phases, seasons, and times of day, and I love being able to draw on them whenever I need to.
What does home mean to you beyond four walls, and why is it such a meaningful part of your life?
I grew up in a healthy, happy home as the seventh of eight children, and our house was always lively. As I grew up, I wanted that same liveliness to follow me wherever I lived. Three sons may be a smaller crew than eight, but we're a lively one, and I have learned to love it although it's different than how I grew up. There's always something happening: a conversation to be had, someone watching a movie, someone dancing, and almost always someone wrestling. To me, home is a place where you can be comfortable being yourself and enjoy that space with the people you love. We've worked hard to generate an energy that makes people want to be here. I love that my kids' friends choose our home. I host dinners, friends, workshops, clients, and meetings here. I want every person who walks through our door to feel special and to know they belong. That's what home means to me: a place where you are special and where you belong. It's what I've tried to create.
When it comes to caring for your home, what practices feel most nourishing to you?
I have so many. One of my favorites is editing. I love looking at what we have and asking whether each thing deserves the real estate it takes up, both in our home and in our minds. Editing and organizing are deeply satisfying to me. Sleep is another. I safeguard it for our whole family, which can be tricky with teenagers who worry they'll miss out if they go to bed. We invest in the comfort of rest: beautiful linen sheets, blackout curtains that keep rooms dark, and a cool house at night, so everyone has as much time as possible to regenerate. I'm also a big advocate for gardening, and for cooking food you've grown yourself. I love being in the kitchen, designing what we eat, and designing a table. Really, I love creating engaging experiences in our home, even through the most basic practices of food, sleep, and movement. Most essential of all is my relationship with God, which I nurture through prayer and scripture study. That relationship nourishes our home in mind, body, and spirit. I love sitting down with my kids to teach them who God is, and that there is something bigger than them they can lean on. I'm so grateful for a relationship with deity that is gentle with me as I navigate shepherding my young.
What are some of the most meaningful objects in your home? What stories do they carry, and how do they add soul to your space?
One of my very favorite pieces is a credenza in our living space, built by hand by my uncle. He and I have always been incredibly close, and about five years ago I commissioned him to make it. He designed it thoughtfully and added details that nod to our New Mexican heritage, and I sourced its hardware from the original Waldorf Astoria. It may be "just" a piece of furniture, but it represents our relationship and the love of good design we share. We both adore millwork, art, corbels, handles, knobs, and pulls. He moved to Arizona about three years after I did, and having him and my aunt just minutes away has been such a gift. When I remodeled this house, contracting and designing it ourselves, he was a tremendous support. When he saw the pendants I'd hung over our massive kitchen island, he told me, "Don't you dare tell anybody how much I love those pendants." That's our relationship in a nutshell. We've always gone antique shopping together and shared our finds, and he still brings me little treasures, like the ostrich egg displayed on one of my shelves. Those pieces carry him with them, and they give our home so much of its soul.
When you bring something into your home, how do you decide if it belongs? What values shape your choices when it comes to acquiring or keeping things?
This one is simple: I have to love it. Everything in our home is something I absolutely adore, and nearly every piece sparks a conversation. All of the art in our house carries a story or a meaning. I want to be a genuine person who truly engages with people, and so often these objects open the door to stories and truths that might otherwise go unspoken. They let me pull up close to people, and let people pull up close to me. That makes the world better. When we learn to love a little more, understand a little more, and open our hearts a little more, life grows richer, and that openness is vital to a life well lived. So whenever I'm out and about, I'm looking for something I really love, and it's usually an antique or vintage piece that feels thoughtful and just right for our magical little farmhouse.
How has your relationship with home changed over time? Is there a lesson your home has taught you?
I was raised by a mother who valued a home that was both well put together and deeply comfortable, so I've always had a beautiful relationship with what a home can be. I grew up feeling abundance, joy, and belonging, and I've held onto that all my life. I've always wanted a home where people feel welcome to come as they are and to be who they are. Rather than changing, that belief has strengthened over time. I have a myriad of memories confirming the value of a home like that, and even now, when I go home to my parents in Colorado, the feeling is still there. It's woven into the fabric of who we are: we belong. That lesson has only grown deeper with the years.
What book, poem, or piece of writing has shaped the way you think about home or slow living? Why does it resonate with you?
There are so many to choose from, but Mary Oliver comes to mind first. I also have a deep and abiding love for Kathryn Knight Sonntag and her book The Mother Tree. Her relationship with nature and with deity has shaped me over the years. I try to see my home and the way I live through the lens of the natural world: tending the soil, planting a seed, nurturing it with water and sunlight, and watching the seedling open in the darkness of the ground before it expands outward and reaches for the sky. There's a current within me that connects to that. As a little girl, I remember lying in the tall grass of our side yard and feeling it rise up around me, almost like Alice in Wonderland, completely enveloped in the natural world. That cyclical, seasonal rhythm is what I lean into, so I gravitate toward any writing that reflects the shifting seasons within our lives, within the earth, and within the year. I love reading about Emily Dickinson's life and her relationship with gardening, and Sue Stuart-Smith's The Well Gardened Mind beautifully applies the natural world to our inner lives. Ultimately, though, what shapes me most is the symphony the earth performs on its own. It has given me a perspective on how I want to live that I truly love.
If your home could whisper one word to describe how it holds you, what would it say?
Wonder. I want wonder, magic, sparks, curiosity, and engagement to fill our home, for myself and for everyone who comes through our door. I placed a little fairy door on our grapefruit tree so that when little ones visit, they have something magical to discover, surrounded by big, towering trees that make them feel delightfully tiny. I want shelves of curiosities, objects that inspire and ignite conversation, problem-solving, and imagination. That sense of wonder is what I hope our home whispers to everyone it holds, including me.
Photos courtesy of Jaclyn Bishop
To learn more about Jaclyn's work, visit: Jaclynbishop.com or follow on Instagram @ladyjaclynbishop