My Principles of Interior Design

I came to the realisation yesterday that I have never written about interior design. Considering it is increasingly becoming a large interest of mine, this struck me as odd, especially when a lot of my down time is spent flicking through the worn pages of my favourite design books and magazines. Maybe the reason for the topic’s absence on this blog is that design of any kind, by its nature, is something visual. Literacy exclusively cannot do justice to the topic. It is an accompanying interview to enthralling images, a small detail of a mysterious artefact to enhance the visual medium. I am no photographer and, at the time of writing, have no one to interview regarding interiors (or, at least, no one who is proud enough of their interiors to be interviewed – student digs can be rough). Also, there is only so much you can do with rented property, especially a student apartment that will only be the place of residence for a few years maximum. Personally, I believe that there is a pretty wide margin for the budding design enthusiast to personalise their student accommodation – I consider my own apartment a decent example of this – but walls of limitations often appear regardless of creativity and dynamism.

 

However, an aspect of interior design that I feel comfortable writing about are principles, more specifically the guiding principles that dictate how you chose to design a space. These vary in importance, and of course are all completely subjective. At the end of the day, only one person should be giving out rules for how to live in a space, and that’s the person whose space it is. Don’t listen to anonymous voices who lurk online. With this in mind, these are principles that I choose to live by when inhabiting a space. They may prove useful to you when thinking about your own space’s layout, but they can be happily ignored all the same. So, here are my guiding principles for living in a space.

 

Objects – the handmade

 

A consumerist at heart, objects are the first thing I consider when inhabiting my space. These objects range from the practical to the beautiful (arguably, there is no difference), but regardless of their purpose they can have equal impact on a space. The objects which I personally try to curate can be defined by a seemingly infinite list of criteria, but some consistent connections appear. Artefacts of a culture, such as folk art, are something that I am always attracted to. Japanese kokeshi dolls, wooden Indian elephants, and Swedish Dala Horses are all at home in my apartment. They imbue the space with a richness that is hard to describe. It is as if the simple elegance of folk art adds an eclectic colour to an otherwise bland box of a space (speaking to my own flat here). Moreover, something I am always attracted to in objects is to see their craftsmanship, a lack of uniformity that an increasingly few items are awarded in the modern day of mass production. The idea that someone, somewhere, created this object by hand or for a specific purpose and that the object, through whatever history it may have had, has landed in my hands, feels remarkably special to me. This craftsmanship extends to clothing, artwork, and many other areas, but for now I will limit my scope to objects. Other folk crafts of this ilk that I cannot help but admire are ceramics. My flatmate will tell you that I have a seemingly endless store of ceramics waiting to be deployed, ranging from the smallest of bowls to large display items. Again, the hand-crafted approach to ceramics is something I deeply value, thus the ones I choose to collect all obviously reflect that in one way or another.

 

Objects – the ideological

Whilst I do believe that it is possible to have an apolitical sense of design, I do not necessarily thing it to be the right moral choice to do so. A home should reflect those who live in it, and there is no better way to do so than with overt message items. On my windowsill sit two statues, one of the Buddha and the other a bust of Karl Marx (both of which belonging to my flatmate). They are both undeniable images of ideologies and are affective methods to represent such ideologies within the home. Other examples include political, or politically motivated, posters or stickers – all strong methods to remind you what you believe in.

 

Objects – origins

 

To simply put, items with a history are infinitely more interesting than a shop bought thing. This probably explains why I like folk craft and handmade goods so much: they come built in with a story. Other items can be found, traded, or acquired in strange circumstances. I try to avoid buying objects new, even if it is something that I desperately want. When I do find myself purchasing something brand new, it is because it may be from a premium brand who cherishes qualities outside of the mass-production style. A good example of a brand who does this are Labour & Wait, located in London. Their products are clearly vintage inspired yet retain the quality standard of something new. Regardless, items with a history make for better things to look at. Sitting opposite me as I write is a bowl which I picked up in France over four years ago. For the longest time, I had no idea what to do with it as it’s a pretty large thing. When I purchased it I had no idea it would end up sitting in my second/third year university apartment, but that is the magic of items with a history. You never know where they might go. I suppose this category also includes how you may use an object, or at least interpret it within a space. For an example, I use an industrial chopped tomato can as a plant pot for a succulent on the windowsill. Of course, this is not the can’s intended use, but I gain great satisfaction to see how I have interpreted it to embody something completely different from what the manufacturer intended for it.

 

Life and light

 

Since moving away from home and going to University, I came to understand the things which I subliminally missed about being at home. Things that I didn’t even realise were things I liked about the space. After some thought into it, leading to a greater appreciation of my home environment, I came to the conclusion that both elements of life and light are something that I consider greatly important in a living space. Life means a sense of the natural world under your roof: potted house plants, maybe even a pet. Light, simply, is the amount of light a space receives. Coming into a pretty small flat, there is only so much which we could do in terms of these, but there are some methods we have utilised to maximise both aspects. Our doors between each room are open at all times (excluding bedrooms during the night and the bathroom). This lets light naturally manoeuvre throughout the tiny space, whilst also expanding the small scale of the rooms. Adding potted plants throughout the flat hasn’t been too hard to do, with each trip home to Sheffield seemingly inevitably resulting in me returning to the flat with a new batch. Succulents have been a good choice as they can survive without regular water if needs be and also look damn good. Having something actually alive in your living space, something that requires attention and care, brings strange psychological benefits too. There is a sense of pride in making the right call when a plant may need a prune, or when you have rescued one which was on the brink of death to a fully healthy plant. Seeing them grow adds a sense of dynamism which can seldom be found in other artefacts. Plus, they look great combined with ceramics.

 

Bookshelves

 

There is an innately attractive quality to a diverse bookshelf sporting books of differing sizes, colours, and subject matter. These items exist individually, to be taken out and admired, read and understood by their own merit, the effect of a stacked bookshelf teeming with books is a completely different point of admiration. In my own flat, we have four bookshelves all achieving this affect. The largest two, both IKEA Billys purchased when we moved in, are filled to the brim with DVDs belonging to my flatmate. As we are both film studies students, this not only provides a functional method to watch a variety of films, but also exists to represent the shared interest of the flat – the shelves and their contents acting somewhat as a centre piece for the entire flat. Another shelf contains assorted CDs (again belonging to my flatmate). The final shelf, a shelf primarily consisting of my belongings, is a mix of various things. Books ranging from scholarly compilations of film theory to Japanese denim catalogues. A select range of DVDs also feature. The aesthetic purpose of these displays gives onlookers the same effect of a kid in a sweetshop, gazing in awe at the sheer amount of information, the books and films themselves icons of interest and formal beauty, stacked on the walls.

 

 

 

The effect of curation

 

Something that I have briefly touched on in the previous point, the method in which items are curated in a space can have a strong effect. Each person will have their own preferences to how items are laid out in a living space, but every reason is to achieve a sort of aesthetic beauty when objects are observed in the context of a curated space. By this, I mean that the object’s own individual beauty is rendered subordinate to the space itself: a single book on a bookshelf, in its own right, is an interesting and worthy object but it is only when placed among other books does a bookshelf give a good feeling. This is one way how people define a well curated space: orderly. Alphabetised bookshelves, evenly spaced objects, consistencies with colour or place of origin of an object. The list goes on. Whilst I respect this and implement it to an extent (mainly in alphabetised DVD shelves), this method is not my primary concern. It can give a space a dry, dead feeling.

 

My personal method for arranging items, objects, wall hangings, whatever really, in a flat is to achieve a bricolage aesthetic. This simply means many things being assembled together in some sort of way. So, for example, atop an IKEA drinks cabinet sits a potted succulent housed within a vintage ceramic bowl and using a vintage plate as a coaster. Next to it is a recently acquired Dala Horse, found in a second-hand shop. Behind it is a poster relating to the French filmmaker Jean Luc Goddard. These potentially oppositional items, each with their own unique aesthetics, history, and individual beauty, come together to make an ensemble that creates value more than the sum of its parts. Through mixing various styles together, you can find what you may truly represent yourself as the curatorial effort surpasses the artistry of the individual objects. I find this process creates vignettes of pleasure, ensuring that wherever I look within a room my eyes are always met with something that gives me a sense of home. I am still learning which objects I like, as is everyone. You never stop learning when it comes to these things. With practice, it becomes easier to figure out what objects work better together than others, but it will effortlessly come through paying attention to your surroundings and prioritising comfort and relaxation when in your own living space. Of all the guiding principles, this final point is the most important as it is the most personal. Everyone who continues to curate their space with this concept in mind will do so uniquely, which is something that is an infinite source of inspiration to me.

 

Conclusion

 

Okay, so this was significantly longer than I anticipated. I guess it’s just something that I think about a lot. My main sources of inspiration for interior design come from my family home back in Sheffield, and interior design magazines such as BEAMS AT HOME (these aren’t in English, but there is an English language compilation of these which released a few years back called THE BEST OF BEAMS AT HOME which is like a design bible to me) and Apartmento. Travelling, seeing new things, and understanding more about yourself also contribute to this. Interior design is something that should never follow trends – it should be a projection of what you as an individual enjoy and wish to be surrounded in. Lastly, I want to reiterate that this is a detail of my own ideology when it comes to interior design. There is no right or wrong way to do it.