Mosaic House of Dunedin

In the heart of Dunedin, Florida—where sea breeze mingles with sidewalk chalk and color always seems to find a home—there’s a house that doesn’t just sit on its lot. It radiates from it.

From the street, the Mosaic House of Dunedin looks like something dreamt, not drawn. Tiles shimmer across every surface. Sculptures bloom from corners. Colors curve and dance across walls like music frozen mid-note. It’s not a home in the traditional sense. It’s a living, evolving work of art—a 20-year collaboration between artists Carol Sackman and Blake White, and the boundless inspiration they found in the world around them.

They came to Dunedin in 2000, drawn by the town’s creative pulse and generous weirdness. Slowly, methodically, they began turning their home into something new—not by tearing it down, but by layering it with intention, tile by tile, year by year. Walls became stories. Ceilings turned to skies. Even the furniture hums with detail and meaning.

Every room in the house is signed and dated. Not because they were trying to mark time, but because they were honoring it. The art inside draws from everywhere: Mayan dreams, Hindu gods, Jewish mystics, stained glass saints, and folk heroes of the American South. It’s spiritual and playful, sacred and strange—woven together with ceramic, found objects, and the quiet belief that beauty can hold space for all things.

And while the house glows with Carol and Blake’s imagination, it also pulses with the energy of others. A mural by Jennifer Kosharek brightens the patio. Inside, works by Ed Derkevics and Howard Finster keep company with Carol’s grandfather’s paintings and furniture built by their own hands. There are cats, too, of course—napping in sun-warmed corners, as if to remind you that this house isn’t just for looking. It’s for living.

The Mosaic House isn’t loud. It doesn’t try to compete with Dunedin’s beaches or breweries or boutiques. It just is—quietly luminous, entirely original, and lovingly made for the long haul. A place where art doesn't hang on walls, but becomes them. A reminder that homes don’t need to match their neighbors. They just need to match their makers.

In a region filled with castles made of cans and cathedrals born of driftwood, the Mosaic House stands as something more intimate: a temple to joy, devotion, and the sheer audacity of making something beautiful—one tile at a time.