A former model, the statuesque Cosgrove is a lighthearted character who paints dark scenes reminiscent of Caravaggio — think illuminated headless saints and unwinged angels set against a mysteriously deep black background. With a quick, honest laugh, she leads guests through her home pointing out 18th-century reliquaries (that may contain vestiges of saintly remains) and gilded Italian candle prickets, while sharing funny anecdotes about family trips to Italy and the trials of hauling home her finds.
Located on a tree-lined street in the Dominican neighborhood, Cosgrove’s Spanish Colonial home features a set of worn wooden front doors brought back from Mexico. Beyond these doors, the large foyer is marked by a series of tableaux designed from ornate architectural pieces and gilded mirrors along with doll-like saint figures and other religious relics. Looking down from the staircase landing are a life-size pair of kneeling figures in their original 17th-century dresses. In the adjacent living room and, every surface is arranged with a curated display of baroque treasures. And in the dining room, an array of Venetian glass and china is paired with Mexican milagros. The overall effect is surprisingly colorful, despite the fact that almost everything is either gold or white.
For years, Cosgrove has been collecting decorative architectural remnants and relics from Mexico, Latin America and Europe. What began as a curiosity about early Italian crèche figures (traditionally created at Christmastime for an elaborate nativity scene) eventually spiraled into a collection of larger pieces. A gilded vargueno (writing desk) from Spain stands in the dining room, a wrought-iron gate from Mexico takes up an entire wall in the living room, a pair of seven-foot fluted columns from Mexico flank a doorway, and Cosgrove’s treasured remnants from Italy abound.
“I definitely went through a French rococo phase,” Cosgrove says, “but much of it was too perfect, too fussy for me. I gravitate toward the earlier Italianate hand-worked objects because they have an authenticity to them. I prefer the cruder works. In fact, if I could afford it, I’d have Roman stuff all over the place.”
“This stuff is part and parcel of what she uses as inspiration for her painting, and she paints every day,” he says. “She takes the Old Master style of painting and makes it contemporary and often surreal. So the culture and the history of these objects are part of her work, but so are the ever-changing compositions.”
It was a stint in Mexico City in the early 1990s that had the greatest impact on Cosgrove’s aesthetic. They couple lived there with their young daughter, Olivia, while Burr worked as a landscape architect on a large-scale project. The family shared an apartment near the Zona Rosa, which at the time held a seedy mix of sex shops and antique stores. At the same time, she began painting in the daylight (during Olivia’s nap time) rather than late at night, discovering a new ability to use the brush to create delicate, realistic lines and patterns.
It was 2000 when Cosgrove and her family moved to Marin and settled into this gracious 1905 house. Though it was already fully renovated, they updated it little by little over the years, swapping out large windows for French doors throughout and adding patios and decks to connect the main home to Cosgrove’s small painting studio. But the greatest addition has been the ever-changing display of extraordinary crumbling objects that exists amid an ordinary life filled with family photos, a table set for dinner, a proud display of a child’s sculpture. Add to that Cosgrove’s own intense paintings, and it’s the sublime combination of mysterious darkness and pure light.