Serena Williams’s Florida sculpture contrasts with NYC cotton-decor controversy

Serena Williams and her husband, Alexis Ohanian, keep a Florida mansion north of Miami that features Radcliffe Bailey’s Monument for a Promise, a 2013 sculpture described by ARTnews as a steel-and-concrete work depicting a donkey carrying a trunk and standing over a mound of cotton. Williams has long positioned the piece as a cornerstone of her home’s art environment, a focal point in spaces she has described as an art gallery-like foyer and formal sitting room. The work is part of Bailey’s broader practice, which ARTnews notes assembled an influential body of work using objects drawn from Black history across his career.

In a February 2021 profile for Architectural Digest, Williams spoke about the sculpture’s place in her home and the way the space reads to visitors. “When you walk in, it’s like walking into an art gallery,” the retired tennis star said at the time. “That’s my favorite part of the house. It’s so unique. I’ve never seen anything like it.” The piece sits within a living area and entryway that the couple have described as colorful and eclectic, reflecting a long-running interest in elevated, conversation-starting art.

In a broader context, Bailey’s work—widely celebrated in arts circles—came to be understood through the lens of Black history embedded in everyday materials. ARTnews highlighted how the artist fused Tintypes from his family’s archive, Georgian red clay, shipping tarp, and African figurines, among other elements, to create installations that range from intimate to monumental. Bailey, who died in 2023, built a career around assembling objects that trace a continuum of Black history, and Monument for a Promise is among the most noted pieces in that legacy.

The Florida sculpture isn’t Williams’s only outward-facing tie to Bailey’s work. In October 2020, Alexis Ohanian posted a photo on Instagram of their daughter Olympia looking up at Monument for a Promise, capturing a moment where the artwork functioned as a family landmark and a visual anchor within their home. Almost five years later, Williams shared a video from what she described as the hallway of an unidentified Manhattan hotel, where a cotton plant sat atop an entryway table. In the clip, she asked her followers, “How do we feel about cotton as decoration? Personally, for me, it doesn’t feel great.” She then plucked a cotton boll from a branch, adding that it “feels like nail polish remover cotton.”

This incident—captured in a brief social video and reported on by outlets covering entertainment and celebrity news—adds a contemporary layer to a long-running conversation about objects that carry historical weight. The Monument for a Promise sculpture—once positioned by Williams as a doorway into think-piece-worthy conversations about memory, labor, and Black history—stands in stark contrast to the raw, current moment in which a seemingly decorative cotton plant in a Manhattan hotel hallway prompted a direct personal response.

The juxtaposition underscores how private collections and public-facing art can intersect with broader cultural discourse. Bailey’s work—rooted in Black history and memory—continues to invite reflection on the materials and symbols that people choose to display in their homes and public spaces. Williams’s reactions, both past and present, reflect an ongoing engagement with how art functions in daily life, how it communicates history, and how viewers respond when decor intersects with sensitive cultural memories.

In sum, the Florida installation remains a testament to Williams’s long-standing open stance toward art as a dialogue, while the Manhattan hotel moment signals how contemporary publics continue to scrutinize the cultural weight of everyday objects. As Williams navigates these moments in real time, commentators will watch to see how she connects personal taste with a broader, historically informed understanding of the art that surrounds her.