The idea of a home always lives with its future inhabitants.
My métier: to unearth it, and to realise it.
Homes, apartments and commercial interiors. From blueprint to brass handle.
Owners, not interiors.
In the Mood for Love
A private house, Miami. The owners had honestly served their time in office minimalism and rented beige interiors. Their requirements for a house of their own had the clarity of a prescription: velvet maximalism, colonial languor, and antiques of the degree of luxury at which nobody asks whether it is too much.
Komorebi
A house on the edge of the mountains, asked to stay quiet. Light rooms, nothing that competes with the view. The rare case where the brief and the wish were the same thing.
Random Access Memories
A bachelor's brief was short: everything minimal, I have a projector. Then came a chair from the seventies, whisky glass, and a rug — no one heats Portugal in winter. Minimalism, it turned out, has color.
Where we begin
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One conversation, after which it is clear what the space lacks and what to do about it. Before a purchase, mid-renovation, or when something feels wrong and you cannot name it.
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The walls and floors stay. What changes is everything that still belongs to someone else's taste, art included: chosen, not bought. What remains is a house that could not be anyone else's.
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It opens with a study of you, not the floor plan. Then concept, then supervision, through to the finished room. I stay to the end, partly on principle, partly because I cannot help myself.