In terms of interior design, there is a happy medium between minimalist and maximalist. Dominic Lutyens investigates homes that blend clarity and comfort.
The term “minimalist” elicits a variety of reactions. Many people have used it as a derogatory term since the 1990s. Even die-hard design fans associate it with soulless interiors and a humourless reverence for design that prioritises aesthetics over comfort, or simply dismiss it as impractical, given how much stuff many of us inevitably accumulate. In recent years, some designers have gone even further, cultivating maximalism, which has been welcomed by many as a joyful, exuberant antidote to uptight minimalism. Floral wallpapers and rich, intense colours became popular in interiors that were filled with contrasting textures and an eclectic mix of furniture, artworks, and curios.
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But there is a happy medium between these two extremes. We’re seeing a return to more restrained, uncluttered interiors, but with a more relaxed, comfortable vibe. Paint colours, for example, are shifting away from maximalism’s dramatic, even oppressive hues like navy or bottle green and towards paler, earthier mid-tones like sandy beige and sage green, which arguably make rooms feel more spacious. Perhaps lockdowns, which reawakened an interest in nature, aided in the development of this palate inspired by the great outdoors. In light of growing environmental concerns, a perception of maximalism as excessive and wasteful may have sparked a trend for more clean-lined homes. “People now want a simpler life,” says Betsy Smith, an interiors stylist and colour consultant for Graphenstone Paints, who describes her taste as “relaxed minimalism.” She says to BBC Culture: “Our interiors are becoming more considered as we become more informed about what we buy. We’re using fewer elements to create a home that’s comfortable, functional, and stylish.”
The 1990s craze for radically minimalist interiors arose from early twentieth-century modernism and a zero tolerance for extraneous elements among some of its proponents. Internal load-bearing walls were no longer required due to technological advances in reinforced concrete and steel frames, resulting in spacious, open-plan interiors. Gerrit Rietveld’s Schröder House, completed in 1924, is a seminal example. Its interiors were open-plan and devoid of ornament, with intersecting vertical and horizontal rectangular planes. And with his German Pavilion built in 1929 for the International Exposition in Barcelona and the cuboid Tugendhat House built in the Czech Republic in 1930, German architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe advocated extreme simplicity.
Despite this, elements of these seemingly harsh buildings are influencing today’s warm minimalism trend. Because of their expansive glazing, these buildings have a strong connection between their interiors and the surrounding landscape. Tugendhat House’s dining room is framed by a graceful willow tree.
The rich palette of materials preferred by Mies van der Rohe is another modernist element that inspires architects of minimalist homes today. He designed two luxurious, leather-covered seats for the visiting King and Queen of Spain for the German Pavilion, which are still in production.
“Minimalism, which arose from early twentieth-century modernism, was in many ways a reaction against over-decorated, over-furnished high-Victorian interiors,” explains James Gorst, founder of James Gorst Architects. “At Tugenhadt, Van der Rohe used a palette of richly veined marbles, exotic veneers, fabrics, and rugs to animate and soften the interiors’ essentially white spaces.”
Integrating views of the surrounding landscape into a minimalist home is essential to making it feel warm
Sandpipers, a house in rural Surrey with many floor-to-ceiling windows, according to Gorst, channels this aesthetic: “Its transparency welcomes the outside world with confidence, with the exterior landscape replacing the stencilled wallpapers of the nineteenth century. The walls are white, the flooring is bare polished concrete, and the window frames are made of metal. Despite this, the interior is warm, thanks to oak panelling, paintings, and leather-covered furniture, such as the LC1 chair, designed in collaboration by modernists Le Corbusier, Charlotte Perriand, and Pierre Jeanneret.”
When creating minimalist interiors, Danish interior design studio Space Copenhagen also connects indoors and out. “We prefer sheer fabrics for curtains and blinds that allow outside daylight to filter softly into spaces,” says Signe Bindslev Henriksen, owner of Signe Bindslev Henriksen. co-founder of the company, who describes its aesthetic as “poetic modernism.” She says to BBC Culture: “Translucency prevents a sharp distinction between inside and outside. Overall, we favour natural, tactile, organic materials such as wood, stone, leather, linen, warm-toned metals, and exposed plaster, as well as subdued, earthy colour palettes.”
Views of the surrounding landscape, according to David Montalba, founder of Montalba Architects, which has offices in Los Angeles and Lausanne, Switzerland, are essential for making a minimalist home feel warm. “The landscape can be a rural setting for a house or a courtyard with paving and planting, such as found within a triple-height atrium at our project Vertical Courtyard House in Los Angeles,” says Montalba, who grew up in Switzerland and the Carmel area of California. He is influenced by the Southern Californian regionalist architecture of Irving Gill, whose early twentieth-century houses featured simple interiors, plain fireplaces, and skylights, and George Brook-Kothlow, whose houses used a lot of wood. “Bookshelves, art, and textiles, as well as engaging with the outdoors, help soften a minimalist home.” A wall-hung textile piece by Canadian artist Brent Wadden adds warmth and texture to one of the living spaces at Vertical Courtyard House.”
Comfort zone
And interior designer Rukmini Patel created a warmly minimalist living room for a Stratford-upon-Avon home, using natural-inspired colours and materials. “My client, who has a garden, expressed a desire for the interior to connect with the outdoors,” she explains. “When designing a cosy minimalist home, I believe it is essential to use a variety of natural materials, textures, and colours that engage the senses.” To evoke nature, I chose autumnal tones – rust, burnt orange, and olive green – as well as wicker and wood for the living room. I chose wood flooring, which I repeated with wood furniture, rather than colder metal or glass furniture, and a warm peachy cream colour for the walls. I also went with a thick, When you sink your feet into a tactile Berber rug, it is calming and relaxing.”
Smith believes that creating a warmly minimalist interior is as simple as combining a few contrasting textures: “Play with the juxtaposition of opposites as transitioning from one to the other heightens the senses.” Consider walking barefoot on a hard, smooth floor, then stepping on a soft, textured rug, and the sense of warmth and luxury that brings.”
