Atlanta · September 2026
On September 19 we bought a painting at the Driskell Prize Gala. Later that night a gentleman wanted to show us one he owns. He scrolled his phone for several minutes looking for the photo.
I got home and realised I couldn’t have done any better with ours.
So I built this. You photograph a painting and it writes down what it is.
It takes about thirty seconds. Try it on something of yours.
Faith McCoy Scriven
Atlanta, Georgia
One painting, written up the night we bought it.
[…] to Return to
The son of Haitian immigrants, self-taught, he came to figures after ten years of abstraction. He photographs people first, then paints away from the photograph. Dior picked him as one of ten artists worldwide in 2025.
September 19, 2026. Benefit auction at the Driskell Prize Gala, High Museum of Art.
The title is still half missing. The photograph clipped the wall card, and it would rather leave a gap than fill one in.
Our Front Room
Two pictures: the work, and the writing on it. It does the rest.
Step 1 of 2
Straight on, no flash. Fill the frame.
On your wall, in your room.
Type it if you do. Skip it if you don’t, it still works. What you type is kept as yours, and it never changes what the photograph says.
Worth knowing before you point a camera at your own house.
A small picture is kept, the full photograph is not. Your photograph is sent to an AI service to be read and is not stored here afterwards. What this site keeps is the record it produced and a thumbnail so you can recognise the work in your room. What the AI service does with the image on its own systems is its policy, not mine, and I cannot promise anything about it.
A code is a label, not a password. There are no accounts. You make the code up, and anyone who types the same one opens the same room and can read, change and delete what is in it. Nobody is shown your room unless they know the code, but nothing stops a person guessing a common word. Pick something only your people would think of, and do not put anything in here you would mind a stranger seeing.
It does not record where anything is. No addresses, no rooms, no values, no prices. A list of what you own, not a map to it.
This is a sketch. Rooms have no backup and no recovery. Treat it as somewhere to try the idea, not as the only place your records live.
Tap the square to begin.
Your browser opens its print window. Choose Save as PDF as the destination, or on a phone tap the share icon and then Print, then pinch the preview to save it.
Three works off Faith’s own walls, and what each one gave back.
A few words each is plenty. Blunt is more useful than kind.
Make one up, and make it odd. Two words nobody would guess, like copper-lantern. It is how you get back to what you saved, on this or any other device. Anyone who types the same name opens the same room, so avoid your first name or anything obvious. There is no password and no account.