Photograph by Ben Rollins
Grant Henry’s eclectic maximalism made a legend out of his Edgewood Avenue bar, Sister Louisa’s Church of the Living Room and Ping Pong Emporium (also known as Church). But at home in Chosewood Park, Henry leans into a different aesthetic: less paint-by-numbers Jesus, more modern furniture and backyard oasis.
Family values
My daughter bought a house down here, and it turned out the house behind her house was one of those “make me an offer” kind of situations. So I bought it in 2019. The grandkids come over all the time, but for safety reasons with the pool, they can’t just run over whenever. We had a metal guy build a gate in our shared fence. It looks like a prison gate. I immediately planted a vine on it, so it doesn’t look so prison-y right now. But that’s how we go back and forth.
Garden viewing
This room was a screened-in porch, but just last year I had Pella Windows and Doors make it a big glass solarium. [Landscape designer] Brendan Butler did an exquisite garden back around the pool, and I wanted to be able to see it. You feel like you’re in a terrarium in here. The floors in the house are 100 percent heart pine, but I had them stained black—all the Knoll furniture in the house is walnut, and it was just too much. Outside I try to respect the old 1900s bungalow, but inside is a different story.
Online treasures
I get 90 percent of my stuff from Facebook Marketplace, thrift shops, or antique stores. I found one of these cream leather Eames chairs on Facebook, and the other I drove to Tampa for. I’ll drive anywhere for anything. Then my house gets too full and I have to sell stuff. The reason Church exists is because I collected so much Jesus shit and had to find somewhere to put it.
Shelf life
There’s this very industrious kid, he must be 20 years old, who sells mantles and doorways from old houses in Grant Park. Both mantlepieces in my house are from him. This one is exactly how I bought it. I was going to do more modern concrete around the fireplace, but I just felt I needed a shelf to put more collections on. I have too many collections. I had a big sale last month and sold so much stuff. My friends and family were like, Grant, your house doesn’t look any different.
Photograph by Ben Rollins
“These are tragedy-comedy masks from Frankoma Pottery Company. I used to collect these masks, and then before I opened Church, I sold all my possessions. So all of these I’ve collected since 2010. Insane, I know.”
Photograph by Ben Rollins
“I found this guy on Facebook—he lives in the Midwest and whittles these wooden busts. I love them: Each one has a name, and he has a long, drawn-out story on every piece. Like, one has screws in her head, inspired by somebody in a mental hospital in his hometown. I probably have 20 of them. He ships them wrapped in so much paper—I think he doesn’t want to buy boxes—it looks like a bomb arrived on my front porch.”
This article appears in our May 2025 issue.
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