We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Allison Prell. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Allison below.

Allison, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.

My most meaningful project to date isn’t in a client’s home, a gallery, or a public space—it’s the piece I painted in my own entryway. To understand why, you need to know two things about me.
First, I’ve always dreamed of shaping my surroundings so completely that they reflected exactly who I am. This probably started with my childhood obsession with TLC’s Trading Spaces and Design on a Dime. But I knew it was part of my DNA the day my 11-year-old self fired up a PowerPoint presentation for my parents – complete with a budget and inspirational images – to convince them why we should knock down a wall to make our home feel more cohesive. (For those wondering, the answer was a hard “no.”)
And second—this one is important—I never thought of myself as a “creative” until recently. Monday through Friday, I put on my IT consultant hat, the quintessential “left-brained” role. For most of my life, I thought creativity and logic were two completely separate worlds. But it was this project that taught me they’re far more intertwined than I ever imagined.
When I first saw my new entryway, I knew it deserved something as bold and expansive as it was. I mean, how many people can say their entryway is a 17-foot-long hallway? I also knew I wanted to weave my DC community into it somehow, to give them a permanent place in my home. That’s when the idea struck: I’d turn my walls into a living guestbook. Every visitor signs a stripe on the wall. Over time, the space fills not just with color, but with the memories, stories, and warmth of the people who’ve passed through.
Ironically, this most transient area of my home has become my favorite. It’s the space that made me claim the title of “creative” for the first time. At first, I approached the project like a consultant—establish the function, then define the feel, then map every stripe with meticulous pencil lines to ensure perfect spacing and squiggle angles. But my perfectionism hit a snag: after painting the first stripe, I realized my careful pencil lines were going to show through! My only option was to erase everything I’d planned and freehand it.
That’s when I learned what it really means to be an artist: valuing the process over the product, responding to what’s in front of you, and letting the work evolve naturally. I had to go with my gut and trust my hand, and in doing so, I fell head over heels for the creative process itself.
That feeling is something I’ve been chasing ever since. It’s what pushed me to take workshops, to start “traditional” paintings, and to embrace a philosophy I’ll argue for forever—that all five walls in a room (yes, the ceiling counts) are perfectly valid canvases.
This hallway isn’t just an entryway anymore—it’s a living archive of community, creativity, and the joy of trusting the process. Every time I walk through it, I’m reminded not only of where I’ve been, but of the endless potential for what’s ahead.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

When I first stepped into my home, I knew it was something special. It had good bones, great light, and architectural details that deserved to be celebrated. I wanted to turn it into a space that not only showcased Me, but also amplified every best feature the house already had.
The push I needed came from an unexpected source: a fellow creator. We had just wrapped recording a podcast together, and inspired by their work in real estate, I told them I’d been toying with the idea of starting a blog (read: Instagram). Their advice was simple: Just start it. Knowing the podcast was about to air gave me the perfect excuse (and deadline) to finally launch what would become home_decwhore.
Through the blog, I offer a space to embrace every facet of yourself— the vibrant, the colorful, the unconventional, and yes, even the gloriously weird. My medium of choice is interior design, with a special emphasis on paint, because nothing transforms a space faster (for a low budget!) or more dramatically.
I work with clients in an unconventional way: conversation only. No mood boards, no sourcing lists, no “designer takeover.” Why? Because you are the best expert on you. My role is to help you get unstuck—whether you’re figuring out the function of a space, translating that into a feeling, or making multi-purpose spaces flow seamlessly (small-space dwellers, I see you!). Beyond that, I’m here to express myself creatively and, hopefully, inspire you to do the same. If you want someone to be able to walk into your home and know exactly who you are in the first five seconds, let’s talk.
If you’re just starting to design a space, here’s my biggest piece of advice: Don’t make the #1 mistake most beginners make by starting with colors and materials. Instead, start with Function (What purpose will this space serve?), then Feel (How do you want to feel in it, for each purpose?), then Transitions (What shifts need to happen between those purposes and feelings?). Only then should you land on colors and materials.
And my personal signature? Every design needs a touch of yellow. Always.

We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?

My first project left me… in physical therapy. I’d hyperfocused so intensely on finishing that I didn’t notice I was pushing my body past its limits (my ADHD peeps know what I’m talking about). The project looked great, but my excitement for more projects (and mobility) took a major hit.
When I finally started my next project (after a few months of physical therapy), I flipped the script: I put myself before the project. At first, I hated slowing down. But in letting go, I discovered something better—I could actually experience the creative process. I found a new type of flow state where I wasn’t just making something, I was in conversation with it. I never would have been able to tap into that if I hadn’t let go of my old way of operating.
Turns out, protecting my body also unlocked my creativity, and that’s a trade I’ll make every time.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

I used to be one of you—the so-called “non-creatives.” I wore the label proudly, certain I was all logic, no art. But here’s the truth I’ve learned: there’s no such thing as a “non-creative.” Everyone has the capacity to create. You just have to find your medium.
And it all starts with one simple act: noticing.
Go for a walk and really look around. How many shades of purple can you spot in your neighborhood? (Maybe you’re a future painter?) Run your hands over the textures you pass—the smooth leaves, the rough bark, the feathery blooms. (Maybe you’re a future textile or fiber artist?) Close your eyes and listen for the layers of sound—birds chirping, tires on pavement, the hum of conversation. (Maybe you’re a future musician?)
When you get out of your head and tune into colors, textures, lines, light, sounds, and smells, you’re not just observing—you’re participating. You’re giving your senses something to hold onto, and in doing so, you open the door to expressing what you feel in your body and heart, not just your head.
That’s where creativity lives. It’s not about a job title or formal training—it’s about paying attention and letting yourself respond. And once you do that, you’ll see: you’ve been creative all along.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: home_decwhore

Image Credits

For the photo titled “Screenshot 2025-08-13 at 12.36.13 PM”, photo credit to Anne Giebel