More stories

  • in

    “Homes manifest mechanisms of power via relationships of gender, class and age”

    The way our homes are designed is intrinsically linked to domestic power struggles, write Charles Holland and Margaret Cubbage.

    What is the relationship between architecture and power? How can buildings – inert piles of stone and steel, glass and concrete – exert power over us?
    The obvious place to look might be examples that clearly aim to control or confine us, such as prisons. Alternatively, power may be found in buildings for political institutions or corporate HQs. There is, however a subtler realm in which architecture exerts control over our lives. That place is one that almost all of us experience: the ordinary domestic spaces that we inhabit every day.
    Our homes shape our lives and inform the dynamics of our social relations
    What can such spaces say about power? Surely the rooms in which we live, eat and sleep are an escape from the hierarchies of the workplace or our increasingly CCTV-controlled public spaces? The home is associated with being a place of refuge but also somewhere to connect, or disconnect from the outside world.

    As innocent as they may appear, our homes shape our lives and inform the dynamics of our social relations. They manifest mechanisms of power via relationships of gender, class and age. Why do we separate functions into separate rooms? Why are some spaces more private than others? These questions are of course culturally specific. Not all societies organise their houses in the same way. And what might seem like an ordinary convention to some might be an unimaginable luxury to others.
    Radical Rooms, an exhibition currently running at the Royal Institute of British Architects’ (RIBA) Architecture Gallery, explores this knotty subject, examining the micro-territories of our homes. It begins with the plan – the most basic of architectural drawings – and examines the way that the arrangement of rooms in our houses reflects the way that individuals, couples, groups and families organise themselves.

    Women-led studios create sculptural pavilions for Women in Architecture exhibition

    The exhibition focuses on a history of housing in the UK, mining the RIBA Collection of drawings to find examples where traditional power relations have been subverted and where new ways of living have emerged as a result.
    It also looks at the characters behind the buildings, revealing figures within architectural history that have not always been acknowledged or accurately documented.
    Gender relations are inscribed in the plans of our houses. This is a question of both how spaces are organised – think of traditional male preserves such as the study or the historic association of women with kitchens – and of who owns and authors them. The history of famous houses is often also a history of the famous men who designed them, or the men that wrote about them.
    Houses are innately collaborative ventures
    Radical Rooms shifts that focus instead onto houses that were designed, commissioned or curated (and sometimes all three) by women. In doing so it draws on the work of important historians including Lynne Walker, Elizabeth Darling and others.
    Houses are innately collaborative ventures. We share them and they are extended and added to over time. The history of architecture though is largely a history of individuals, of single authors and buildings preserved as static objects. Prior to the development of discrete roles for architects, clients and builders however, authorship was less clear. This ambiguity might well have allowed (admittedly wealthy) women who were otherwise formally disempowered from designing buildings to exert a powerful influence on the development of architecture.
    Take A La Ronde, an eccentric, sixteen-sided house built on the Devon coast in the late 18th century. The house was built for two female cousins, Jane and Mary Parminter, but its authorship has been the subject of much debate. Keen to find a male architect, historians have traditionally plumped for John Lowder, the son of a relative who would have been just 17 when the house was completed. It is more likely that the house was a collaboration between Lowder and the cousins, who had just returned from a Grand Tour of Europe’s classical architecture.
    Hopkins House uses Venetian blinds to distinguish between spaces for living and work. Photo courtesy of the Historic England ArchiveThe degree to which Jane and Mary Parminter designed the house might be unclear, but their unique way of occupying it wasn’t. Arranged in plan like a clock face, the cousins moved around the house during the day, following the path of the sun. When they died they stipulated that it be left only to unmarried women, an explicit rejection of the patriarchal system of male inheritance. A man eventually did come to live in the house and, revealingly, he was responsible for drastic changes to both its layout and appearance.
    The design of Hardwick Hall, an Elizabethan mansion in Derbyshire, is generally ascribed to Robert Smythson. The house was commissioned though by Bess of Hardwick, an immensely wealthy 16th-century aristocrat. Her involvement in the design of her house, the fourth that she commissioned, extended well beyond the role of client as it is currently conceived. Principles of the house’s layout, its material choices and decorative scheme reflect Bess of Hardwick’s intense involvement.
    Prejudices around authorship have continued into the current era. Take Team 4, a well-known but short-lived collaborative practice from the 1960s that consisted of three women and two men. The subsequent fame of the men – Richard Rogers and Norman Foster – has tended to eclipse the role of the women – Wendy Cheesman, Su Brumwell and Georgie Wolton.
    Field House pursued an interest in dissolving boundaries
    Wolton was the most short-lived member and the only fully qualified architect of the group at the time. She subsequently designed Field House, a radical, steel-framed, open-plan residence that has remained somewhat below the radar of architectural history ever since.
    Field House pursued an interest in dissolving boundaries within the home as well within the discipline of architecture. Its interior was conceived largely as a single, fluid space with minimal separation. The exterior walls were entirely made of glass so that the interior merged with the external landscape. Intriguingly, the house is currently described as dismantled rather than demolished, reflecting an interest in adaptability and moveability on the part of its designer.
    This blurring of uses and of the inside and outside also manifests itself in the Hopkins House in north London, designed in the mid-1970s by Patty and Michael Hopkins. Originally used as their office as well as their home, the house has no corridors and minimal separation of functions. The combination of its delicate steel structure and Venetian blinds helps to subtly delineate the different zones of family and work-life within the home.

    “The irresistible draw of Bridgerton reflects our need for a new aesthetic”

    Some 50 years before, in 1926, Eileen Gray designed an apartment in Paris that consisted solely of moving screens and metallic curtains. The remarkably innovative interior, designed for her sometime lover Jean Badovici, also rejected the discrete division of domestic space into separate functions in favour of a dynamic internal landscape that could be re-made every day.
    Radical Rooms looks not only at power within the plan but at who gets to design those plans. The exhibition provides a platform for the exposure of (mainly) overlooked women designers and architects, revisiting the ways in which women influenced design prior to formalised architectural education. It deconstructs the domestic plan and exposes it as something intimately bound up with the power structures in which we live.
    Radical Rooms: Power of the Plan is free to visit and will run throughout July and between 5-24 September at the 66 Portland Place in London. For more information, see Dezeen Events Guide.
    Charles Holland is a professor at the University of Brighton, the principal of Charles Holland Architects and a former director of London studio FAT. Margaret Cubbage has been curating design and architecture exhibitions for 15 years.
    The top photo is by Gareth Gardner, courtesy of the RIBA.

    Read more: More

  • in

    “The irresistible draw of Bridgerton reflects our need for a new aesthetic”

    Netflix TV show Bridgerton’s interiors will lead to a return of the exuberant Regency style to distract us from our troubled times, says Michelle Ogundehin.

    The second series of Bridgerton, which streams tomorrow, will prompt a major new look for interiors. As I wrote in my trends report for 2022: “This sentimental recolouring of history will prompt a Regency revival as we freshly appreciate the uplifting potential of architectural adornment, both inside and out”.
    This statement was about a lot more than the show being a Netflix winner — apparently, 82 million households watched season one in the first 28 days after launch in December 2020.
    This was a historical moment that shares more than a hint of an echo with today
    Bridgerton is indeed escapist, diverse and sexy, just what was needed in the thick of Christmas lockdowns. However, it’s the resonance of the 19th-century British Regency setting that makes it so influential from a style and cultural point of view. This was a historical moment that shares more than a hint of an echo with today.

    And yet, the Regency was but a brief snapshot in time. When the sitting English monarch, King George III, was deemed unfit to rule his eldest son stepped in as proxy from 1811-1820. He was named the Prince Regent, hence the period moniker The Regency. In theory, he deputised as king until his father passed, at which point he himself was crowned King George IV, ruling for the next ten years. He died in 1830.
    In reality, he had little interest in the responsibilities of governance or the previously admired piety of his father. Instead, he used his new-found influence to indulge his love of architecture to fashion. Such extravagance didn’t come cheap though.
    He incurred a huge amount of debt and was bailed out repeatedly by the taxpayer via Parliament. It was a significant pivot point in English cultural history.

    “Any period of sobriety is generally followed by heady abandonment”

    The Prince Regent, who spoke four languages, propelled extraordinary advances in the arts, design, music and sciences. New decorative styles burst forth inspired by everywhere from Egypt to India.
    The steam-powered printing press was invented. He commissioned the exotically ornate Brighton Pavilion as his personal pleasure palace replete with hand-painted Chinese wallpapers and domed cupolas. He remodelled Buckingham Palace, initiated Regent’s Park as well as the National Portrait Gallery and hosted many a lavish party.
    Romans de clef penned anonymously by aristocrats of the day captured the fervour (and provided much entertainment for the lower classes). For the upper echelons, life was fun, fashionable and frivolous. The antithesis of what had come before.
    And this is the mood that Bridgerton, based on the books of the contemporary American romance novelist Julia Quinn, perfectly captures.
    Ornamentation for the sake of it is everything
    Thus, in this glossy televisual romp, as in the Regent’s time, we witness the pursuit of pure escapism via a highly stratified social scene where only the aristocracy enjoys the newly unleashed decadence. The upper-class ladies of “the Ton” attend balls and take tea, while the men debate the mores of the day safely ensconced in their gentlemen’s clubs, whiskey in hand.
    Layers of pastel-coloured, heavily embellished silken clothing (for men as well as women) are mirrored in rooms adorned from floor to ceiling in delicately hand-painted idyllic verdant scenes, or exotic portrayals of the Orient – the imagined perfection of both near and afar.
    Ornamentation for the sake of it is everything. Fragrant wisteria drips across perfectly symmetrical facades. Trims and tassels finish drapes and upholstery. Extravagant gilt frames surround flattering portraits while elegantly patterned dinnerware and fluted coloured-glass goblets adorn tables laden with food.
    It’s ridiculously pretty, a word that’s not often used in design circles.
    When the world is in extreme turmoil, creativity flowers
    As such, the haute styles of the day epitomise an abject denial of the wider reality. For the backdrop to this flagrant profligacy was great political and economic upheaval following the American and French Revolutions. Not least the ongoing Napoleonic Wars with their legions of conscripted commoner troops battling to prevent France’s invasion of lands from Europe to Russia. Closer to home, poverty was also rife.
    And yet it’s a truism that when the world is in extreme turmoil, creativity flowers. Those possessed of an artistic temperament, such as the Prince Regent, rail against the zeitgeist and drive it somewhere new. This is what happened n the Regency, and it’s ­the period I believe we’re entering now. Thus, the irresistible draw of Bridgerton reflects our need for a new aesthetic.
    But, we see it blossoming already in the pattern and colour-infused parades of zingy flamboyance on the Spring Summer fashion catwalks (hot pink and vivid green seemingly the strongest hues after beige was hailed the “in” shade for 2020). It’s in the return of feathers, frills and flounces on frocks, even shoes, which translates to the home as richly adorned and embellished fabrics for upholstery and accessories

    “Grey alone would be too depressing for 2021’s colour of the year”

    Large scale murals as wall coverings have been bubbling up for a while as homeowners tried to replicate green spaces within urban environments, but now they’ve hit the mainstream. And the look of hand-painted Chinoiserie gets a high-street outlet as British interiors brand Harlequin debuts a very timely first wallpaper and fabric collection from the British artist Diane Hill.
    Traditional techniques like marquetry for furniture are seeing a resurgence too, following the growing trend for parquet floors. The ceramic mosaic tile market is predicted to rise by 8.3 per cent and DIY panelling as a means to add intrigue to walls is clocking 100,000 searches a month on Google.
    The birth of a Neo Regency is simply a reaction to life being so relentlessly draining for such a long time
    Tablescaping, the art of laying a decadent table, which came from tastemakers looking for ever more inventive ways to express themselves within the confines of their homes, is now a widely understood concept. Accordingly, sales of table linens and placemats are soaring, while vintage crocks inspire nostalgia and granny’s “best sets” are brought out for everyday usage.
    As I wrote in my trends report, denial begets indulgence. Like the Roaring 20s after the horror of world war one.
    On a wider scale, the birth of a Neo Regency is simply a reaction to life being so relentlessly draining for such a long time, the everyday battered first by hidden foes and now more painfully visible ones. Such a move, with its inherent decadence and delicacy, is a rebellion. A lurch from lockdown to levity, come what may. A forceful jettisoning of gloom and doom.
    Except this time around, it’s not about ignoring tragedies happening “elsewhere” than fervently wishing to celebrate small moments of joy and unexpected luxury in any way we can, wherever we can. To decorate our nests is a primal instinct. It’s how we mark our territory, signalling that we have a personalised place of retreat to return to. It’s why losing your home, or homeland, is so incredibly traumatic.
    The Neo Regency then is less a single prescribed look, or colour, than a dive into the “extra”. Or to put it another way, the previously deemed unnecessary.
    Essentially, it’s do pretty, as you damn well please. No justification required
    It’s outfitting a luxe laundry room or papering the kitchen ceiling in something fabulous, maybe respraying the units lemon yellow and painting the downstairs loo turquoise. According to Pinterest, searches for Rage Rooms have increased by 150 per cent, while on the other end of the emotional scale, home massage room searches have increased by 190 per cent.
    Architecturally we’ll see a corresponding embrace of ornamentation. A revival of pergolas, porticos and decorative brickwork alongside the classical tropes seen on original Regency buildings in Britain’s heritage cities like Bath and Brighton.
    Essentially, it’s do pretty, as you damn well please. No justification required. But without pastiche. This is Neo Regency, not faux Regency.
    Michelle Ogundehin is a thought-leader on interiors, trends, style and wellbeing. Originally trained as an architect and the former editor-in-chief of ELLE Decoration UK, she is the head judge on the BBC’s Interior Design Masters, and the author of Happy Inside: How to Harness the Power of Home for Health and Happiness, a guide to living well. She is also a regular contributor to many prestigious publications worldwide including Vogue Living, FT How to Spend It magazine and Dezeen.
    The photography is courtesy of Netflix.

    Read more: More

  • in

    “The uncomfortable truth is that 2020 might just have been exactly what we needed”

    After a turbulent 2020, this year designers should be braver and bolder, says Michelle Ogundehin in her interior design anti-trends report for 2021.I concluded my 2020 Interiors Report with the words, “I still believe that we can be as brilliantly inventive as we have previously been so terribly destructive. However, 2020 is our make-or-break year to prove it.”
    Six months later I wrote about the potential impact of the coronavirus on our homes. In summary, your environment is as fundamental to your health and well-being as nutrition and exercise.

    However, Covid is not the only issue impacting society. The pandemic simply crunched years of behavioural change into months. Resistance wears away when something becomes a necessity. And while some of the responses to global lockdowns gave us a glimpse of potential solutions, other factors are having an equally noxious affect on the way we live.
    As Christopher Ryan says in his book, Civilised to Death: The Price of Progress, “the zoo we’ve designed for ourselves is a poor reflection of the world in which our species evolved, and is thus a profoundly unhealthy, unhappy place for too many of the human animals it contains.”

    This report then is less about trends, than exposed truths

    Certainly, if we peel back the cladding on much of the residential housing built over the last few decades, it reveals a horrifying disrespect for the humane as the dignity of the occupants is routinely sacrificed at the altar of profit – tiny windows, minimal footprints, cramped rooms, no easy access to outside space, and not least, cheap and dangerous building materials.
    It’s a symptom of where we find ourselves, but also a contributor to the cause as it affects our primal need for a safe place to call home. This report then is less about trends, than exposed truths.
    After all, even before Covid, normal wasn’t working. To quote the American socio-biologist Edward O Wilson, “The real problem of humanity is the following: we have palaeolithic emotions; medieval institutions; and godlike technology.” Or as Sophocles would have it, “nothing vast enters the life of mortals without a curse”.

    Sexy eco, monochrome and plus-size furniture: interior design trends for 2020

    In other words, the flip side of the incredible technology we have at our fingertips is that it’s simultaneously being used as a tool to erode the very fabric of society – community, connection, reality and considered thought (which I explain as the desire to check sources and decide for ourselves before accepting opinion as fact). Plus, apps to run our baths, ever faster broadband, the ability to manipulate genes, Klarna, deep fakes and cheap flights to far-flung lands? Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.

    Blurring the boundaries between home and work is not without repercussion

    It had already been estimated that by 2020, 50 per cent of the UK workforce would be working from home. Campaigning for the flexibility it offered had previously been vociferous, especially for women.
    Besides, employees were at breaking point. The toxic culture of presenteeism resulted in 44 per cent of all UK work-related absences being due to stress and anxiety. In short, work as we knew it was already broken. It was just the bosses who feared staff would be less productive if given more freedom. The opposite has been proven to be true. 
    Nevertheless, blurring the boundaries between home and work is not without repercussion. Alongside the impossibility of overlaying parenting with employment in the same space and hours, even without children in tow, the ability to WFH assumes you have adequate room, equipment and support. And if you injure yourself on-the-job at home, are you insured?
    We would also do well to remember the salutary tale of “Bob”, the US software developer who in 2013 outsourced his job to a Chinese consulting firm for a fifth of his salary. His work didn’t suffer.
    In fact, he was regularly marked out as being one of the company’s top-performing programmers. Until he was rumbled. But here’s the thing, if WFH makes it easy for you to outsource your job without being detected, it also makes it easy for your boss to outsource you. If you can do your job anywhere, can anyone do your job?
    For these reasons alone, the demise of the office is over-stated. Besides, according to an Arup survey published in The Sunday Times, for every 100 office workers, four jobs are sustained in the food/drink sector; six in hospitality and seven in retail. But, if businesses are smart, offices will be smaller and used as three-day week hub points for shared learning, innovation and collaboration. People are innately social animals. We need to come together to get things done. This will engender improved productivity and creativity with a happier workforce.

    Fear is not a trustworthy motivator for long-term survival

    And yet, living with uncertainty can be a great spur to innovation and discovery. Regardless, in so many aspects of life we have become more fearful. We begin to believe that it’s OK to attempt to live forever, plan an exodus to Mars, medicate our way out of aging, or see the world as something to be perpetually controlled and conquered. This is not progress, it’s to rail against the natural order of life. Fear is not a trustworthy motivator for long-term survival.
    For example, a vaccine is a reprieve from fear, but a vaccine is not a cure. It’s a shield. Like a mask. Or hand-sanitising. Absolutely required to protect the most vulnerable, but mass inoculation does little to address the cause.
    And when another pandemic occurs, our response cannot be a repeat performance of the ‘muzzle-up-and-shut-down’ while waiting to be saved, as already witnessed. The collateral damage of disrupted lives, broken livelihoods and the inevitable mental health fall-out are too severe. There has to be another way.

    “In the future home, form will follow infection”

    We could start by taking some personal responsibility. As Richard Horton, editor-in-chief of The Lancet put it, “Our liberties depend on our wellbeing”. And yet, “we create the risks that threaten us… Our space for manoeuvre is narrowing. Pandemics are the new normal. We had better understand that. And get used to it.”
    Thankfully, we already have inside us one of the most potent infection-fighting bits of kit imaginable, our immune systems. We need to bolster these. However contemporary life for many does precisely the opposite. We will spend on average 90 per cent of our time indoors and by 2050 the UN had predicted that 68 per cent of the world population would be living in profoundly urban environments.

    UK government schemes like Chancellor Rishi Sunak’s eat-out-to-help-out initiative imply that it’s our moral and civic duty to support the economy. But is it?

    Previously eradicated diseases like rickets and gout are returning to developed nations, alongside childhood myopia and obesity, all attributable to increasingly screen-based, sedentary lifestyles with a profound lack of outside time. As a result, instead of getting stronger as a species, we appear to be getting weaker. This is a pathology of society, not just our bodies.
    As the Journal of Affective Disorders stated in 2012 (from Christopher Ryan’s Civilised to Death): “The economic and marketing forces of modern society have engineered an environment… that maximise[s] consumption at the long-term cost of well-being.
    In effect, humans have dragged a body with a long hominid history into an overfed, malnourished, sedentary, sunlight-deficient, sleep-deprived, competitive, inequitable and socially-isolating environment with dire consequences.”
    Surely then the vital question must be: if city centres were previously considered the engines of the economy, but urban hubs don’t work for us and we need more room for homeworking as well as outside space, what must change – us, or the way we view “the economy”?
    UK government schemes like Chancellor Rishi Sunak’s eat-out-to-help-out initiative imply that it’s our moral and civic duty to support the economy. But is it? If a recession is on the horizon, shouldn’t I be saving or downsizing? But if I don’t spend, do I in effect prompt the downturn? Catch 22.
    And what of that other political punchbag, education. “The Future of Jobs Report” prepared by the World Economic Forum in 2016 stated that 65 per ceny of the children entering primary school then would end up in jobs that don’t currently exist. Despite this, existing measurements of learning — annual exams, one-size-fits-all curriculae – do little to assess and develop character traits like curiosity, resilience and independence of thought. Essential for our children both today and if they are to be employable in the future.

    Everything that we believed comprised ‘civilised society’ has been shown to be more fragile than we thought

    So where do we go from here? We’ve shattered the economy and ideas of sovereignty. Contemporary society has repeatedly been shown to be fractured along racial, faith and class lines. Most political systems have always been broken (in my opinion, governments are but a country’s HR department: there for the business, never the people). National security was no match for an invisible foe. And healthcare can only ever be based on assumed knowledge. 
    Basically, everything that we believed comprised ‘civilised society’ has been shown to be more fragile than we thought. It presents a dilemma. It seems we need to go back in order to go forwards, but nostalgia is a mistake, and the future is unknown.
    Our global interconnectedness appears to be both our passage to, yet also from, destruction. The return of the analogue is manna for our sanity but automation and robotization are essential for convenience. We cannot deny the might of the ‘attention economy’ — I am still ‘seen’ even in lockdown; therefore, I exist — but it urgently needs to be recalibrated.

    “Grey alone would be too depressing for 2021’s colour of the year”

    Writing as an optimistic realist, I maintain that the power to proactively prompt big change for our best interests has never been so vested with the Everyman. And in that lies our opportunity.
    My hope is that over the next few years such conscious consumerism will drive market value rather than the customary manufacturer-prompted lure of the new. Because, while we will almost certainly keep spending, swiping, click and collecting, what I see changing is the awareness that every time we do so, we advocate for the provider to stay in business.
    We can individually vote with our wallets for greener energy suppliers and sustainable manufacturers, boycott apps that unnecessarily distract or hook users, or globally demonstrate for cleaner air and ethical governance. Anything rejected by such a collective mainstream will be undermined. In this way even the most established edifices become vulnerable unless they move with the times. 

    Discomfort begets the new comfort. This is the year for the interiors equivalent of speaking your own truth

    The uncomfortable truth is that 2020 might just have been exactly what we needed. A year so damned unsettling that a majority finally woke up and saw that we must understand, even if not accept, polarising points of view. That real evolution is all about balance: new and old; real and virtual; left and right; East and West. Combative duelling is rarely the path to sensible compromise. 
    And regarding Interior trends for 2021? Discomfort begets the new comfort. This is the year for the interiors equivalent of speaking your own truth. To be braver, bolder and create your own interiors narrative.
    To understand that the best homes are about the feeling they give you not the stuff they contain, the “right” colours or “hot” looks. A tidy home doesn’t necessarily make a happy home. And being surrounded by memories is not the same as living in the past — our roots keep us anchored in the present. 
    Quite simply, we are all products of our environment. If we intentionally create more supportive spaces in which to live, i.e. spaces which reflect our authentic likes and lives rather than anything dictated externally, we will be more able to weather the myriad messy curveballs of life itself. This alone is the true purpose of home. And the impact of fully recognising this could be game-changing, if not potentially life-saving. 
    Michelle Ogundehin is the author of Happy Inside: How to Harness the Power of Home for Health and Happiness and the head judge on TV series Interior Design Masters.Main image is of the Dezeen Awards-shortlisted Writer’s Studio by Eric J Smith.
    Read more: More

  • “Interior design casually borrows from cultures it finds aesthetically pleasing without hiring people from those backgrounds”

    Borrowing aesthetics from a range of cultures masks the lack of racial diversity in interior design and it is now time to change this says Bhavin Taylor.As a BAME designer, I am well aware of the lack of diversity and the dearth of representation within interior design. The issue is not new and has been going on in our industry for years.
    Coming from an Indian background – with its own strong cultural heritage – a creative career is not often understood, nor seen as a stable career path by those around me. Growing up, I was hindered by the fact that there were no role models that looked like me who could offer aspiration or relatability. This made the decision to become a part of the industry a difficult one. It is not an environment for those who aren’t comfortable standing out – luckily, I am not one of them.

    I was only one of two people of colour in my class. All the teaching staff were white

    This lack of diversity was apparent throughout my younger years and especially so when I entered the industry. Starting at interior design school, I was only one of two people of colour in my class. All the teaching staff were white. This has continued throughout my career. In the professional workplace and at industry events, I am always in the minority. This is particularly noticeable in media and television, where the representation of BAME (black, Asian and minority ethnic) designers is sadly lacking.
    Our industry, which is all too often one seen as being crafted only by Magnolia-coloured hands, has a tendency to casually borrow from cultures that they find aesthetically pleasing, without thinking about the context or hiring experience from the backgrounds they find so inspirational.

    “I aim to shed light on what it is like walking in the shoes of a black woman within architecture”

    Everyone will have used or heard the term “tribal”, “boho” or “ethnic”, but do they know where these actually come from and what they mean?
    Tribal is a blanket term usually applied to crafts from the African continent. Quite often, you will see traditional textiles and patterns being used, such as the Kuba cloth, to denote a tribal aesthetic. Such cloth is created by the Kuba people of the Congo and requires a technique that is very time consuming and laborious.
    Boho comes from Bohémien, a French word referring to a group of people who travelled from a region in the Czech Republic known as Bohemia. Later, this term broadened to include the artist, writer, actor, or musician, often poor, who led a nomadic lifestyle making stops at major European cities. Bohemian design today is about incorporating many different things from different philosophies, parts of the world, and ways of life. The result is an eclectic style that’s as diverse as the people who inspire it. Note the key word there – diverse.

    Crafts are translated by the industry as interior design, quite often without the correct exposure or recognition

    Ethnic design is influenced by patterns, motifs and handicrafts from non-industrialised cultures, drawing its ideas from indigenous communities across South America, Africa and Asia. For example, Persian rugs – also known as Iranian Carpets produced in Iran (historically known as Persia) – are rugs of various types that were woven in parallel by nomadic tribes, in village and town workshops, and by royal court manufactories alike. They represent miscellaneous, simultaneous lines of tradition, and reflect the history of Iran and its various people.
    From a quick dig into the history of these styles, it is clear that they stem from traditional local crafts in the countries that they originate from. These crafts are translated by the industry as interior design, quite often without the correct exposure or recognition given to these hardworking, talented men and women.
    My question is if you take inspiration from another culture, are you giving them enough credit? Or are you inadvertently suppressing the faces and voices of these cultures for your personal preference or gain?

    It is our duty to proudly represent our diversity so that we can inspire and educate the younger generation

    This pattern of repackaging cultural artefacts as trends has minimised the visibility of diversity within the industry, even though it has actually been present for years. Everyone that has an influence on how the industry is portrayed should investigate this tendency to erase creative people of colour, as they in some way or another have played their part in creating the misrepresentation of the industry.
    Unfortunately, the past cannot be changed, but the narrative going forward can. I am calling upon our industry, including our major and trade media outlets, our social, our publications and our events to ensure that we collaborate, employ, contract, buy and promote diversely – and be vocal when we see that we are failing to do so.
    I also call upon other BAME designers such as myself, who are already a part of the industry, to come forward and be visible. It is our duty to proudly represent our diversity so that we can inspire and educate the younger generation – and their families – that a creative career is for everyone. In doing so, we may eventually get to a stage where we will only be recognised for our talents and not the colour of our skin.
    Main image is by Juliet Murphy.
    Bhavin Taylor is the founder of award-winning interior design studio Bhavin Taylor Design, based in London. Taking inspiration from his Indian heritage and with his extensive experience in both the fashion and interiors industry, Bhavin creates unique spaces that are bursting with personality, according to his motto “Love Colour. Embrace Pattern.”
    Read more: More