I’ve learned a lot about design by paying attention to the places I’ve called home.
Early on, beside a coastline that enforced honesty. The salt air ate through everything, and the buildings knew it. My favorite architecture there was not delicate, but the rugged kind that endured. Weathered shingles. Exposed structure. Straightforward details built for weather. There’s a sort of clarity in that kind of toughness I’ve always admired. Holding form through change.
Then over to the opposite coast, in a small modernist home that carried the spirit of its era. Wide eaves. Big windows. Redwood ceilings. Yucca and sage growing just outside. The place showed me how structure could work with its surroundings instead of just walled up against them.
Then up into the middle. The rhythm here feels steady. The weather tests everything, from materials to mindset. The unfolding lesson seems to be an intersection of those two earlier places… finding warmth within endurance. I’m learning how that balance works, paying attention.
A lot of these learnings manifest in small choices:
When to hold a rule…
When to let one go…
When to leave space for something magic to come on through.
Design seems to live in those moments of judgment. Informed as much by where I’ve been, as by what I’ve paid attention to along the way.
To be continued in…
Field Note — Lines Between
