Thirty years ago, anyone traveling down Beverly Drive in Highland Park surely noticed a pair of French blue chicken sculptures at the foot of the sidewalk of an exceptionally unique Art Moderne home—one of few in the city designed by architect Reynolds Fisher. The faux fowl had been scavenged from a roadside shop and painted their attention-grabbing hue by homeowner and artist Laurie Cox. Six months after the vibrant figures were placed outside, garnering laughs from friends, Laurie and her husband, Martin, received an anonymous cease-and-desist note demanding their removal.
The note went ignored. Laurie was known for her quirky, color-loving style, which she expressed through paintings and impressed upon her daughters, Avery and Helen. When Laurie passed from breast cancer in 2013, Martin remained in the 1930s-era home they had purchased together in 1992. After all, they’d kept their eyes on it for several years while it sat in a rocky market—snapping it up when it was financially feasible—and raised their girls here.
Martin reconnected with an old friend, Sherry Tucker, in 2015, and when they decided to wed in 2018, a serious conversation over whether to remain in the home or start anew ensued. “Part of that discussion was what it would be like to live there across a lot of different aspects—it had been my home for 30 years,” Martin says. “It carried a lot of memories.”
Sherry, a longtime champion of the arts, has a profound appreciation for historical architecture and preservation—she spearheaded the restoration of the McKinney Performing Arts Center—and knew the home would likely be razed if it were sold. Ultimately, her desire and fortitude to give the entire home a careful and conscientious facelift—a fresh take on its originality—is the reason they couple decided to stay and embark on a thorough “reclamation.”
But Sherry and Martin had a long list of changes to implement, including replacing the original plumbing and electrical systems and tweaking the foundation. They also wanted to reallocate spaces for better flow, and to more cohesively blend some updates and additions that had been incorporated in the 3,200-square-foot house over time—all while keeping with the era of the house. Finding an architect who shared their vision wasn’t hard: They turned to longtime friend Bill Curtis of Houston-based architecture firm Curtis & Windham Architects, whom the family had met decades ago. Curtis, whose classic architecture firm is known for honoring historical precedent, was eager to take on the project.
“I had this perfect cube that was modified in some ways that weren’t true to it,” Curtis says. “It was a standout house in the neighborhood, but it needed a little trim and a haircut and new clothes.”
Over the course of two years, Curtis and his firm worked to “be restorative and maintain integrity,” while completely overhauling spaces like the downstairs kitchen—though the result is so era-appropriate that you’d never know—and entirely remapping the second floor to include a sweeping and light-filled primary suite. “We took the house apart and put it back together precisely and created an environment that reinforced its Deco-ness,” Curtis says.
The equally—or perhaps even more—challenging task of balancing function and beauty with decade-specific furnishings went to Martin’s daughter, Avery Cox, a sought-after interior designer and owner of namesake Austin firm Avery Cox Design. Despite her relation, she wasn’t simply handed the project—Martin and Sherry knew Avery would be tackling both emotional and professional hurdles, given that it was her childhood home.
“I had to sell them on my ability—and not only on my skill level and experience level to take on a project of this scale but my ability to remain neutral and honor Sherry’s investment in their home, making sure I took both parties’ wishes into account,” Avery says. Fortunately, she adds, “Sherry and I align a lot—we care about preservation, durability, and sustainability, and we both love color. We knew the North Star was this joyful, playful unpretentious home that can live up to the next 30 years of life.”
Designer Avery Cox visits with her father, Martin Cox, and his wife, Sherry, in the Cox family home’s backyard.
The den is painted top to bottom in Sherwin-Williams “Calico.”
Life imitating art: The living room’s cheerful palette was inspired by the Milton Avery painting that hangs prominently on the wall.
Color schemes for much of the house—like the bathed-in-blue primary bedroom, were dictated by pieces in the Coxes’ art collection.
Avery’s firm is well-known for its originality, theatricality, and “nostalgic modernism,” much of which she attributes to her mother’s influence. “Her aesthetic and sense of color imprinted on me early, and that naturally comes out,” Avery says. It is fitting then, that many of the home’s color palettes were pulled from 1930s–1950s paintings by artist (and Avery’s namesake) Milton Avery.
In the renovation phase, Avery worked with Curtis and project architect Greg Roffino to imbue glamour with era-appropriate materials, such as ribbed glass, aluminum, terrazzo, and stainless steel. She also played up fluting in both the primary bath and kitchen, along with curved architectural elements that reflect the home’s exterior. When it came to the decor, Avery did extensive research on era-specific colors and forms, then presented room-by-room design schemes. “It was really important for me that Sherry could see herself in this home,” Avery says.
Martin and Sherry shied away from bold hues in some areas; saturation ended up in upholstery instead of on the walls. But other spaces, such as a bold-in-blue den and the melon-colored lacquered dining room ceiling, were easy agreements.
“There was some magic that happened in the collaboration,” Avery says. “It was such a unique opportunity to get to know Sherry on a deeper level, and how she wants to live. To Sherry’s credit, she was very trusting and gave me a lot of freedom to present things that might have been outside of what she would have originally wanted.”
Sherry only had one directive when it came to furnishings and decor: “I didn’t want anything to be too precious,” she says. “I wanted it all to be functional.” The extensiveness of the project allowed Avery time to carefully source finds from vintage and antiques markets, as well as online resources like Chairish and 1stDibs. She also repurposed pieces, such as her childhood dining table and chairs, and had others custom-made to fit. “Sherry brings her own flavor, and it’s great,” Avery says. “That’s the important part—it’s not my mom’s spirit; it’s this energy that was created in this home, which Sherry and my dad share.”
The vibe of the house is reflected immediately upon entry, Martin and Sherry say, with views to the backyard and pretty, cheerful rooms at every turn. “It’s such a comforting space,” Sherry says. “The house is beautiful, but it’s very livable.”
Martin credits the outcome to Sherry’s willingness to dive into every detail. “The house would not have been preserved the way it was if Sherry had not had the energy and the positive attitude,” he says. “I love it, but it really took her energy to make it happen.”
Named one of the Top 100 Significant Homes in Highland Park and University Park by Preservation Park Cities, its interiors now reflect the streamlined, curving shape of its exterior.
“It was really difficult for me to separate my emotion from my ability to objectively design,” Avery says, reflecting. “But at the same time, it was a really unique superpower to have this deep understanding of the home and the architecture and the light and how the energy of the home flows. Having seen it through many parties and eras allowed me to have a perspective on how it could function in its next reiteration. It gave me a way to connect with my stepmom and dad in a creative process. In hindsight, it was awesome.”
She’s confident her mother would be pleased with the outcome, too. “I think [my mom] would be psyched and so proud of everyone and feel like the spirit of the house remained, and the spirit of our family is there—it just looks a little different,” Avery says. “I think she would be so happy for me, [for] Dad, and for all of us.”
As for the fate of the chicken sculptures, the originals were sadly stolen, but the unkind letter is framed in the hallway—and a “tribute” chicken is now perched atop a street-facing wall in honor of Laurie.
