What Filmmaking Taught Me About Interiors

Before I began designing interiors, I studied filmmaking. At the time, I didn’t yet have a particularly interesting story to tell, but I was learning something far more foundational. I was learning how to see.

Good film mentors, and I had many, teach you to look at the same film multiple times, each with a different focus. One pass for composition. Another for lighting. Another for pacing. Over time, you begin to understand how these elements work together to create mood and shape a narrative. You are no longer just watching. You are observing, analyzing, and understanding why something feels the way it does.

Why is a director making these choices? What are they trying to say? Why is a character closer to the camera in a given moment? What is being emphasized, and what is being held back?

That way of seeing has stayed with me.

When I walk into a space, I approach it in a similar way. The first pass is instinctive. You take in the overall feeling. Sometimes something immediately stands out, often because it hasn’t been fully considered or integrated. Other times, the space feels cohesive, and that’s when it becomes more interesting to study it.

From there, I move into a second pass. I begin to look at individual elements. What is working, and why. How materials are interacting. Where the eye is drawn, and whether that attention feels intentional. This is where the difference emerges between something that is simply arranged and something that has been composed.

Many people can sense when something feels off but cannot immediately identify why. The scale is slightly wrong. The color is just a bit off. The relationship between elements has not been resolved.

Over time, this process becomes intuitive, but it is built on that repeated practice of looking closely and asking questions.

Filmmaking also taught me how to translate ideas.

On a film set, you are constantly communicating. You are working with actors, cinematographers, and a crew, each with their own expertise. You need to express a vision clearly enough that it can be executed by others, while also staying open to adjustment in real time. Just as importantly, you rely on people who can meet that vision and who are genuinely invested in the outcome.

Interiors are no different. A large part of the work is coordination, communication, and problem-solving. It is not just about selecting materials or arranging objects. It is about guiding a process, making decisions under constraint, and ensuring that everything comes together cohesively.

There is a practical side to the work that is often overlooked. Schedules, logistics, budgets, and unforeseen issues all play a role. Being able to move between creative thinking and structured execution is essential. That balance between instinct and discipline is something I rely on regularly.

Editing is another principle that translates directly.

In film, every scene has to justify its place. If it does not move the story forward or deepen the experience, it is removed. That same discipline applies to interiors. Not every object belongs. Not every surface needs to be filled. A successful space depends just as much on what is left out as what is included.

This is where restraint becomes critical. Allowing certain elements to stand on their own, and allowing others to recede, creates clarity. Without that balance, a space can feel cluttered or unresolved, even if every individual piece is beautiful.

Lighting is equally important.

In film, lighting directs attention and shapes perception. It determines what is seen clearly, what remains in shadow, and how a scene is experienced emotionally. In interiors, it functions in much the same way. It can soften a space, sharpen it, create intimacy, or bring energy. It is not simply functional. It is one of the primary tools for shaping atmosphere.

Finally, filmmaking reinforced something that applies to any creative discipline.

You have to trust what you are drawn to.

Work that holds up over time does so because it is fully realized, not because it appeals to everyone. We return to certain films, books, and works of art again and again because they are grounded in a clear point of view.

The same is true in interiors.

A home should not feel generic or interchangeable. It should reflect the person who lives there, their history, their interests, and the way they want to live. That often means making choices that are personal rather than broadly appealing.

Helping someone translate that into their space is one of the most meaningful parts of my work.