Behind a Design Board

People often think a room starts with a paint color. For me it usually starts with one object — a vintage chair, a slab of stone, a photograph torn from a magazine years ago — and a feeling I want the space to hold.

A design board is where that feeling gets tested. I pin the hero piece first, then layer materials around it: a warm oak, a honed limestone, a length of bouclé, a tarnished brass. The point isn't to match. It's to see whether the room can hold tension — something rough against something refined, something old against something new.

I live with a board for a while before I commit. I'll walk past it for days. The pieces that still feel right after a week of ignoring them are usually the ones that belong. The ones I have to talk myself into never make it.

By the time a board is finished, the room is essentially decided. Everything after that — the sourcing, the ordering, the long wait for the sofa — is just patience.