How I think About Materials

When I begin thinking about a space, I am often looking first at the envelope.

To me, that means the walls, the floors, and the larger surfaces that everything else will sit within. These decisions set the stage for all others.

They set the tone for the room.

Pierre Frey's Fauna fabric and a Landry & Arcari tribal rug having an interesting conversation.

We are not just looking to make sure everything is harmonious, though of course that is one of the goals.

We need to decide what the primary voice in the space will be, and what will support it. I think of it like a musical composition. There are the parts you recognize immediately, but there are also quieter elements underneath that give the whole thing weight and dimension.

In an interior, that primary voice might be a bold wallpaper. Sometimes a rug or a floor material. Whatever it is, not everything can speak at the same volume.

Once the envelope is established, the rest of the materials are considered in relation to it.

Pattern, scale, texture, and finish begin to play against what is already there.

In some cases, I want contrast. In others, I want a more immersive effect, where elements are closely related in scale and tone. I don't have many hard-and-fast rules here. There is a lot of experimentation. It depends on what the space is asking for and what the client is drawn to.

Many samples are gathered for consideration, often including things I am not certain will work. That's part of the process. They are moved around, placed beside one another, and looked at in the morning, in the evening, and under ambient light. I am looking for interactions that make each materials more interesting, always in service of the larger vision for the room.

An immersive Sandberg wall mural with impactful paint and gold leaf are an impactful start for this room's envelope.

The weight materials bring to a room is understood almost as soon as you walk in. You pick up on the warmth and genuine nature of wood grain on a deeper level than simply its color. You see warm light glowing through topaz glass and feel the effect of it. You can almost feel the pile of a plush rug or soft velvet before you ever touch it.

These things can all say: Come, sit. Experience this place.

Materials also change. Wood develops patina. Metal dulls or deepens. Textiles soften. A material that becomes more interesting through use has a very different presence from one that only looks good when it is new. I want to consider not only how something will look when the room is finished, but what it might become over time. Durability matters for the same reason. You should be able to feel exuberant in how you experience your space rather than anxious about preserving it. Flexibility is a priority as well. I want to create rooms that can evolve, not rooms that need to be replaced within a few years or retained exactly as they are.

And you can have exactly the right materials and still end up with the wrong result if they are not handled properly. Imagine selecting a drapery fabric that is utter perfection only to have the fabricator leave you with uneven hems.

I value working with people who are deeply invested in what they do.

Workrooms that give quality materials the attention they deserve. Artisans who understand the history behind a piece. Restoration specialists who can bring original elements back into alignment. Contractors who are willing to make decisions based on the ideal result, not convenience.

Materials carry so much of what we experience in a room: its warmth, its weight, its age, its softness, even the way it catches the light at a particular hour. Giving them careful attention at every stage is what allows those qualities to remain present in the finished space.