Platform on architecture, interior design and landscape architecture
Sometimes I walk into a home where everything is just right: the colors, the materials, the symmetry. Perfectly styled, meticulously cared for. And yet I feel nothing. No warmth, no story, no traces of life. It's as if I'm standing in a beautiful shop window instead of in a home.
I recognize this in my own work as well. In the higher segment where I often design, aesthetics are a natural starting point. Clients expect an interior that is perfect down to the last detail, and rightly so. Together, we strive for quality, harmony, and tranquility. But sometimes, unnoticed, a new tension creeps into that pursuit: the desire for the perfect picture. An interior that is not only livable, but also impressive.
The competition is fierce. New designers are popping up like mushrooms, and nowadays people are quick to call themselves designers. Often, all they do is create the perfect picture. Every day, social media is flooded with perfectly captured interiors, and to be honest, I sometimes get carried away by them too. You want to show that you matter, that you are distinctive, that you have mastered your craft. The perfect interior then becomes not only an end product for the client, but also proof of your ability, a calling card in a world full of image-making.
There is nothing wrong with that in itself. Perfection can inspire, motivate, and demonstrate craftsmanship. But sometimes I wonder: aren't we losing something of the soul of living along the way? Because an interior is not an image, it is an experience. The most beautiful spaces are not only designed to be admired, but to be lived in.
I believe that true art lies in balance. In finding that subtle line between beauty and comfort, between order and warmth. A child should be able to play, a glass of wine can be knocked over, and the dog can lie on the sofa. That is precisely what makes a space human.
As designers, we have a special responsibility: we create the environment in which people shape their lives. That requires not only aesthetic insight, but also empathy. Attention to how someone wants to feel in a space, not just how it should look.
Perhaps that is where the future of our profession lies: in the fusion of beauty and authenticity. Our story is real, but the story of the perfect picture is not.
So let's continue to design with feeling, with attention, with courage. Not to outdo each other, but to touch people. Because a house is not a showroom, it is a home.
