Space, Geography, Interior Design – and everything in between
There is much more to interior design than a ‘beautiful home’.
People tend to assume interior design is exclusively about high-end, expensive and stylish homes…shops…hotels. As seen on TV.
In fact, the main concern of interior design – as a profession, discipline and knowledge – is the human interaction with space. That is: space as a designed and lived experience.
In 1992, when I started my PhD, there was very little academic literature to draw from within interior design.
This meant I had to read far and wide to find ‘others’ out there who ‘thought’ like me – a bit… a lot… or nearly.
My reading drew from sources across philosophy, anthropology, architecture, sociology, psychology, education, environmental psychology and human geography.
These were all established disciplines and so they could draw from an existing body of knowledge to explore and develop their theories and position.
With interior design, I didn’t have that luxury. I had to find my own way.
What did these writers know? How do they think about space…and where/how/ might that overlap with interior design?
Where exactly does one discipline begin and end? And who says so?
Where do I see interior design?
A PhD is a long process of discovery. Yes, it is an enlightening and exhilarating. But it is also daunting and challenging.
At first it seemed that anthropology would have all the answers.
Anthropology deals with cultural norms and forms, it is human-centred. But, somehow it did not quite gel. For me, there was something missing.
Again and again, I returned to the academic discipline that resonated with me most: geography.
There are many different strands within geography with specialist areas that offer different ways of thinking about the natural world, places and spaces – and people.
As an interior designer, it was the work of leading geographers such as: Yi-Fu Tuan and Anne Buttimer, David Seamon, Edward Relph that truly excited and inspired me.
We were from different disciplines. But these writers’ view of spatiality that values feeling, thinking and experience somehow resonated with me.
Ultimately they are looking at the phenomenon of meaningful, contextual and place-based experiences.
They looked at it qualitatively, as an holistic experience, to include the tacit and implicit, the fuzzy and ambiguous. Which meant they were open to exploring very subtle, very deep, nuances and competing spatial experiences.
Through Geography I was able to find my own voice and position – in interior design.
Interior design is different from geography. It is a practice – but it is also an academic discipline that fits alongside, within, and overlaps with geography in different ways.
The role of the interior designer is to build and shape spatial environments to suit people’s needs. It is a creative design process whereby a solution is developed from a thorough and in-depth understanding of the problem.
Interior designers will spend considerable time thinking about how a physical space works. But, they will spend even more time to understand the human experience of that space. That is: that individual’s specific, authentic, real-world view.
Design research aims to challenge existing assumptions. Not to take things at first sight. So, from first hand observation, right through to detailed technical and contextual studies, a designer’s initial focus will be to try to assess and address the design problem – from every angle.
Dwelling is a process of habitation. Over our lifetime we will live in many different homes.
Inevitably, as we age our needs/wants/tastes for homespace also changes. Our lived experience of what ‘home’ means to us comes directly from our memories and past experiences. it includes a consciousness of who we were, who we are now and what our future needs might be.
Design involves deep thinking about space, place and people with the creative/technical imagination to produce a viable design response.
In the early ’90’s human centred design discourse was in its infancy. In fact, the emergent design theory was mainly focused on product design, rather than space and interiors.
For my PhD, being able to draw from established qualitative methodologies such as phenomenology and disciplines such as geography, gave me the impetus and confidence to position where I see interior design. That is: within the realms and reaches of how people ‘experience’ interiors as a lived and designed space.
Space is not the sole domain of any one discipline.
Spatial theories are borrowed, developed and enhanced through different interpretations. Adopting multi-disciplinary insights and methods makes for a stronger contribution to knowledge,
That is what learning is. You suddenly understand something you’ve understood all your life. But in a new way.
Doris Lessing
Geography is the bigger spatial picture. It connects dwelling to place as an experience of landscape, urban design, architecture and interiors.
When we occupy space we inhabit it.
We live in a world that is designed ( cities, buildings, rooms, furniture, products). Which in itself lies within designed systems, processes, hierarchies and services.
When we make spatial choices and decisions we refer to our lived experience – where we see ourselves and our place (physically, psychologically emotionally and culturally) in the world.
Through our lived experience we develop a unique connection to space so that it becomes part of our world view.
How does this relate to design?
Our ‘Home’ is situated ‘somewhere’. In a country, a locale, a culture and a community that is shaped by what has gone before – political and social events, wars, economy, religious views.
Whenever we leave and come back home, we don’t just close our door and forget about the world outside. We still connect ‘life’ on the outside to our ‘life’ in the inside.
Inside, we may hear planes overhead, birdsong, distant traffic and the sound of children playing in a school yard at lunchtime.
There may be intermittent smells from the local factory, farm, diesel fumes, or the waft of newly cut grass.
We may live with a view of the sea, or the sounds of the city, in small dark, uncomfortable rooms, a war zone or in a different land from where we were born.
Through different lifestages we may live with different people and in very different places that we call home.
These physical, emotional and sensory experiences (good and bad) are deep, meaningful. To us, they contribute to a lasting impression of place, space – and home.
Dwelling involves conscious and unconscious decisions.
Ultimately, circumstances dictate where we can afford to live – and also how we make the best of that space to suit our needs. At different points in our lives we ask ourselves:
What do we value most about our home?
How do we make our dwelling experience better?
Proximity to an outdoor space, a supermarket, good neighbours, convenient bus service or having family living nearby may be more important than having an en-suite bathroom, period features and a utility room.
We weigh up the things we dislike about our homes (and its location) so that we can enjoy the things we do like about it. Within what we can afford.
Family bereavement, long-term illness or a new baby will effect a change to the way we see our homes, and ultimately to how it functions.
We continually shape, create and develop our homespace to suit our needs.
We make a space, our home.
We surround ourselves with personal and intimate belongings – décor, furniture, art, clothing and knick-knacks – and put our own stamp on it.
When we love our homes, it is because we appreciate the value, comfort (and luxury) of living somewhere that suits us.
Cultural and human geography identifies closely with people’s connection to the land, to the spiritual and psychological aspects of rural identities and shifts in population. It looks at rootedness and place, but also at everyday practices and people’s changing experiences.
Wherever that place may be – tundra, rain forest… suburbia… high-rise flat.
Geography – and interior design – are both concerned with the way in which people respond to and absorb, the qualities of that place through culture, social practices and localised experiences.
Anyone At Home features stories of people in different settings, at different stages of life, sharing what their home means to them.
My premise is that interior design is the space we make and create, therefore it is essentially part of our lived experience.
For example, the story of the part-time farmer, born and raised in the place where he still lives today, shows a strong sense of rootedness.
His father and siblings live in a local radius and his children nearby. He is the third generation working on this farm, but in a difficult economy he and his son both have other jobs to supplement their incomes.
He designed and built the family home, himself.
As someone used to working with his hands, he took great pride in his ability to design and build a home for his family. He recognises that younger people today have very different design aspirations; they build their homes twice the size.
He appreciates what it means to live in the heart of the country.
As a farmer, he values the sights and sounds of the first swallow, the cuckoo, the quietness, the moon and stars. He acknowledges that local folklore is still a feature of how people view everyday life.
The family keep chickens and grow their own vegetables. Whenever they cut their own turf, they make it a party.
At a deep sensory level, he can distinguish the unique smell of turf from this local area.
Used to the remoteness ( and lack of convenience) of country living, he and his wife plan their time well. They shop weekly, but observe how people in town tend to shop more often – because it is accessible to them.
Now that his family have all grown up there is just the couple left at home:”It feels very strange“.
He is aware there is: “less noise at home, less fighting about what to watch on TV, less comings and goings.“
And yet the house is still the centre and focus of family life – more recently as a venue for a small family wedding party – held in accordance with Covid restrictions.
From the land to the sea. People are drawn to live in places where they can work – or be inspired.
Even a temporary situation, such as a short-term let, can shift how people think, and behave. You can make your home in a place that is not yours, but an AirBnB will never have all the same level of comforts you are used to in your own home.
Proximity to the sea may release creative juices and change how people see their world – their current and future life.
One woman who took that chance was drawn to live in a house by the sea.
Her story links geography to design because her lived experience of place and space dramatically changed when she uprooted herself from her home country to live elsewhere.
Bereavement prompted a shift in her way of life, but it also opened up an opportunity and the realisation that life in her cosy home and community would never be the same.
Covid lockdowns in England created an increased demand for country living that pushed up house prices.
Moving from England to Northern Ireland, where house prices are lower, meant her money went further, which put her in a position to buy her dream home.
For this artist, the local geography, the changing landscape, sea and skies has inspired her painting.
It has brought new life to her art, her sense of colour and creativity.
At first, isolated by lockdown, she noted the marked differences between life in England and Northern Ireland. Physically, villages in Northern Ireland are not as pretty, or as old as in England. But, the people in NI she found were less reserved.
It is a different way of life.
“We speak the same language but the culture, towns.. are different. The way things work is different”.
Her home is more than just four walls and a garden. It is more than just a small dot on a map.
In order to familiarise herself with the area she drives around to see how her homeplace connects to other places. In this way she can make sense of the local geography and different communities.
The landscape she finds is similar to her childhood experience of the Menai Straits. Therefore it doesn’t feel strange. It ‘feels’ like home.
That sense of ‘place’ was what clinched the decision for her to re-locate.
Whenever she saw her new home for the first time she felt a strong connection: “ …the feel of the place as soon as we walked in.”
When you “feel” something about a place, it is a powerful visceral connection that can outweigh more rational decisions – and/or logic.
Buying a new home is an important decision. Beyond a list of what ‘ticks the box’ you have to be able to ‘see’ yourself living there. Having that strong connection to a place/home effectively dispels negative thoughts with a sense of certainty. It is what every estate agent hopes for with every viewing.
That sense of connection/feeling arises in another story that highlights a personal need for permanency and a strong desire to live a certain way.
Living in the country surrounded by nature is very different from city living.
One woman who made that move took on a huge task of transforming a run-down dwelling into a family home.
An old dilapidated home with no electricity or running water may not be everyone’s first choice of somewhere to live. You have to assess what it is you like about it. How you make this place a home.
But before that, there has to be a motivation to actively want to take on and make these changes. You have to have a vision and a strong creative desire to make it work.
The motivation for this respondent was the desire for the ‘solitude’ of country living – and so her children wouldn’t have to: ‘ live near the road breathing in fumes. I wanted them to go out and play.’
She recalled that she knew instantly this was the right house for her.
“I just felt as soon as I saw this house I had to live here- even though it was a disaster.’
Over many years she restored this old run-down building and turned it into a family home, using mainly re-purposed materials. The house became a ( long-term) project of love.
She shared some of the benefits to living in the country.
“We can’t see anybody, and nobody can see us. We can have parties here and nobody complains.”
At night there is complete darkness…but in daytime, as the sun moves, around she feels: ‘ it was like I had built the house for the sun’.
She acknowledges that country living can be more expensive, because you have to drive everywhere.
And… an old house needs constant upkeep.
She notes that people moving from the town have not all adapted to country ways. There is not the sense of community here as there might have been in the past.
Her sense of ‘rootedness’ to her home and to this place is strong.
Whenever she goes away: ‘There is nothing better than coming home. I just love being here.”
People may think about interior design in terms of ‘out with the old and in with the new’. In the media the focus lies with the finished ‘transformation’ rather than what has gone before.
But, designers use of human centred research means they should always be sensitive to people’s real needs. Effective interior design is not about bulldozing or imposing new ideas for the sake of it.
Design research will always look for some sort of meaning and connection.
What is it that people – this person – feels, thinks, wants, expects? It’s certainly not a quantitative checklist of what they own, based on what we ( the researcher) sees.
Design is a conscious decision-making process – often ( but not always) evidenced by what is physically present. For deeper insights we have to look for hidden clues.
What is the story behind this space?
What is it that prompts someone’s decision to make a change- or not make a change?
Longterm dwelling is a rich and intimate experience.
Longterm dwellers have very different ‘story’ to tell compared to someone who has just moved into a new home. Or has made recent alterations to their home.
When talking about her home one longterm dweller was clearly recalling the past in the present. This place was not just her home, it was her life.
As the first, and only family, to live in this house, her story slipped back and forwards to her lived experience of the space: her home. It was who she was then, as much as who she is now.
As her family life changed, her home changed. Through difficult circumstances she and her husband adapted the space to suit.
“This is my space and this is me. And even though we have had problems in our family to cope with, we are happy here.”
A lived-in space is much more than just an occupied building.
From when she first moved in, from when her the children were small, to her life, as it is today this respondent exhibited strong attachments to meaningful experience of the house.. this street… of neighbours… and the town.
“Everybody moved in around the same time – within two years… Absolutely fantastic place to live. But sadly, there are no children now…”
“I would find it very hard to live somewhere else and go past here and see someone else living here.”
For her, creating a home is about using the space to maintain a personal and deep connection to the past, and to family. Items visibly displayed in her home add a depth of feeling to her everyday lived experience.
This is something that perhaps only she, and close family members, would ever recognise. Whereby a dining table – is not just a table.
“This is my mother in law’s dining table…. that’s another thing I treasure.. How many people have sat at this table, and how many have eaten off it.. “
Longterm dwelling offers deeper insights of lived experience; of time spent with and family, of every day life as well as bigger events.
One respondent articulated just how much her life and needs had changed. As an older person, recently bereaved, and her family all grown up, she no longer had use for many of the things in the home.
“The house was so full of people. You look around and you see all these dishes and stuff and think… what am I going to do with it? I don’t need it.”
Now In her eighties, her mobility has been somewhat compromised, but her sense of pride and dignity means she refuses to use her rolator outside of the home.
Adaptations to the home (services of an OT) would undoubtedly make things easier for her. But, it was her conscious decision that it was not worthwhile to make major changes to the home as this stage of life.
My daughter was saying why don’t you put in a wet room? But I said I couldn’t be bothered.
Over the years she observed that younger people living nearby were prepared to make radical changes to the original layout of the home. But it was her view:
“When you get older you wouldn’t be bothered changing it.”
She recognised her physical and design needs had changed, but it was her decision not to proceed because she did not believe the ‘rewards’ would be more than the upheaval.
At different stages of life our values change. We weigh things up: Is a re-design worthwhile?
How much joy would a change bring to my life?
Can I manage as I am?
Can I face making a change… the noise, dust, upheaval?
Another story particularly highlights the importance of having good neighbours and family nearby. This creates a very strong connection to place.
Community can be a strong pull to keep people together.
For some it is what makes the home a home.
A happy childhood raised in a close-knit community is a profound and meaningful experience.
Even the memory of living in what was clearly a very poor housing standard (and over-crowding) can still be recalled with some affection.
Re-development of an area may change how the area looks and will improve the quality of housing, but it is the people who generate that sense of community and neighbourhood.
“When I was growing up there were 11 of us living in a two bedroom house.”
It’s a good wee street… good neighbours around us. Everybody’s just happy being here.
This sense of community was echoed by another respondent.
Many of the housing estates in Northern Ireland were specifically designed for security purposes. This was, according to one respondent : “...with a lot of alley-ways that were one-way… it probably stops joy-riding.”
Choosing to live in this same area where you were born and raised shows a strong sense of connection to community and place. But it is not all rose-tinted glasses. People can still see both the good and the bad:
“I’m very proud of the area….There can be some fluctuating anti-social issues. It’s still an area of multiple deprivation as well. But, there is still a sense, a real good sense, of community pride.”
This respondent acknowledged that local people take great pride in the area -in their gardens and in their homes – through their interior design.
She also appreciates the convenience of the location; proximity to the city centre, and walking distance to amenities where she has a foot in both worlds
Where there is geography – there is politics.
In turbulent times people may be forced to leave their homes and their families and countries behind in order to survive – or to give their children a better life.
Hong Kong has gone through a difficult transition of power, heightened tensions and a very changed political arena.
One family who recently to move to Australia greatly appreciated having so much more space than they ever would in Hong Kong – a bigger home, and a garden. They also discovered a new-found love for DIY.
As the mother explained, chores help to connect the family to their home.
“I wanted them to make something… to create a sense of belonging so they can be proud and tell other people: I painted my room, my own room”.
Moving to a new country – just as Covid hit – meant this family did not get the immediate full social experience of living in a different place.
This meant they had to spend more time together. They also had to and adjust to living in a colder climate and a culture where “ in every house in the street… they all seem to spend Sunday gardening.”
As immigrants from a high density environment they are learning to deal with a very different spatial experience.
This makes them think more about how they lived before – both culturally and physically. As they adapt to living in a new environment they can appreciate how lucky they are. But when watching the news from back home, they still feeling ‘guilty’ for leaving.
“When you leave you are not part of it. I want to be part of it, if I can. But I can’t because I am here now“.“
People can still be ‘present’ in one country, while living somewhere else.
Hong Kong families living in UK are able maintain a close connection to Hong Kong (life, work, news, people, business). Getting up at 4am and working until 1 or 2pm they can continue to ‘work’ in Hong Kong-time, while their families live in local time.
Family life overlaps through night/day, day/night over dual time zones. They have the best of both worlds.
While they are adapting to a different way of life – spatially, economically, educationally and culturally – they get to hang on to what they know.
“In Hong Kong we only had two rooms and it was so small. Here, I can shut the door and read some books… they still have their own space to do their own thing. We are very grateful for that.”
Of course, when you can move your ‘home’ to wherever you want to be, -in the case of a caravan, you open up new geographies and new freedoms.
“You wake up in the morning, open up and then you’re looking at this glorious view… if it’s lovely weather, sit outside, eat… nice glass of wine, watch the sun go down with friends.”
What’s not to like?
A caravan has many of the comforts of home. It is home, in a very compact space.
It is mobile, so it can stand alone ( pretty much anywhere). But, whenever it stands alongside other caravans it becomes a temporary /semi-permanent encampment.
As a long-term ‘temporary’ dwelling, it shifts from being a home designed for ‘freedom’, to a home of limited choices.
Another way of seeing…
I am not longer working Higher education or connected to academia.
Which means I am not limited to how I present my thinking, or where I seek inspiration. Operating now outside the narrow confines of academic writing I can freely explore ideas circulating in the ‘real world’. I can draw on wider approaches to thinking about how people live.
With its world-wide view, Dollar Street, is a wonderful website that prompts us to think about how things are for us… by thinking about the way things are for other people.
The geographical reach in Dollar Street is more than I will ever achieve with this website. It covers 50 countries and 260 families. As an insight into the way people live, it tells people’s stories based on all the things they possess.
Dollar Street, it’s where economics meets culture, meets lifestyle in the home. But not as a glossy coffee table book.
It is a very simple format. The aim is to expose the economic aspects of dwelling – and home – as a direct comparison of wealth, income and possessions.
We are born into a country, a culture and an economic position that will ultimately shape the opportunities that we have – or as we see them.
For some it will be harder than others to raise their standard of living and to realise their dreams for a better life.
Dollar Street is the perfect example of how and the interests of many academic disciplines can overlap in a sweet spot, communicated in a way that will resonate with everyone.
All the stories in Anyone At Home are narrative accounts of our time, of our place and who we are.
It reminds us that design is simply how we live… in the bigger context of decisions made for us – and by us.
All photos taken from stories in Anyone At Home
