Just as a bit of warning/foreshadowing, this article is not about fashion, neither is it especially tongue-in-cheek. Instead, it’s paying homage to my favorite style of interior design, which is a topic that of which I know very little but am simultaneously quite passionate about. Ready? Let’s begin!
When you think of a room you want to spend time in, what comes to mind? For I’m assuming most of us, comfort is a priority, and I also assume that for most of us growing up, comfort probably often came in the form of a cozy living room space, with comfortable sofas, warm blankets, and rich-toned walls covered in family photos. This is all very well and good and nostalgic, and I don’t have a single complaint about this type of space: in fact, there’s still nowhere I’d rather cozy up in a pair of plaid pajamas with a bowl of popcorn. However, fairly recently, I was exposed to the stark opposite style of interior design, and was instantly hooked (oftentimes daydreaming of just being in these sorts of spaces).
We’ve all been exposed to minimalism in interior design in some way, shape, or form (usually in postmodern, urban buildings) but I wasn’t absolutely in love with the idea until I stumbled upon it in an ironically un-metro area: Palouse, Idaho, a teeny tiny historic town in the rolling farm hills of the state. I was there exploring a very strange, very cool, possibly haunted antique shop in old-western styled building one winter evening (wearing a black satin duster, which made the experience that much cooler) and stumbled across the most fascinating thing I have ever seen. In an upstairs hallway of disheveled old bedrooms containing fur coats and Raggedy Ann dolls there was one room that was remarkably different than the rest, and I have often found myself thinking of it since. It was a small, square room (probably 10×10 feet) with white walls, scratched wooden floors, and the only source of light coming from a bare light bulb atop an iron lamppost. It was also the only object in the room.
I found myself just standing in the hallway, mindlessly staring into the open doorway (it didn’t even have a door!). It was immensely eerie and unsettling, but simultaneously very peaceful. This light was the only thing in the room, and it didn’t need anything else. Even the presence of a person in the room would have seemed unnatural and wrong. I never would have imagined that an empty room would be the most beautiful one I had ever seen, but it was true. That night, I fell irrevocably in love with minimalism.
To me, minimalism should be done right or not at all (for example, my current bedroom is tiny and packed to the brim with neon lights, color, and knick-knacks; I could not and never would never even try to incorporate minimalism into it [don’t be fooled, it’s still totally lovely]). There are a few aspects of interior minimalism that really resonate with me personally and instantly attract me to a space, despite any coldness or hollowness that might accompany it. The first is a high ceiling, using empty space to signify abundance, affluence, and dreaminess. The second is matte white or light-colored walls, the more worn-looking the better. If minimalism is to be used, it must be incorporated throughout to reach its full impact in my opinion. Therefore, furniture should be sparse and unique, lighting should either be dim or fluorescent to the point of being disturbing (i.e., neon), and floors should be concrete or wood and bare of any carpeting. A postmodern, 80s-styled approach is always wonderful, but in order to keep this article a somewhat digestible length, I won’t go too far into that.
In short, a truly beautiful minimalist space allows its occupants to project their own feelings onto it. Therefore, it should be as up to interpretation as possible. There is no one way to do it, but when executed correctly, it’s hauntingly cool. My favorite usages of minimalism tend to reflect the styles of design house Maison Martin Margiela, which aesthetically resembles a mixture between a quarantined hazmat area and a ballet studio. I’ve fallen in love with minimalism so much that, being a traditionally lost college student, pretty much my only fixed aspiration for my twenties is to live in a sparse, white-walled loft at some point. Here are a few of my favorite images of minimalist spaces, from livable looks (towards the end) to actual works of art, for your viewing pleasure and redecorating inspiration.
I could post photos of minimalism all day, but frankly, I’m tired. Catch my post on exterior minimalism and postmodernism soon. Don’t forget to take in the world around you and find beauty in the simple things. Drink a glass of red wine. I hope you enjoyed this post and find your own version of the room with the light bulb someday. x