Our Home as Haven

Throughout time and across cultures, whether in caves or castles, humpies or houseboats, tents or terraces, or igloos or apartments, humans have spent significant parts of their lives inside. As an interior designer and self-confessed introvert, I love my home, so the notion of being ‘pent up inside’ is an enigma. Regardless of where you sit on the introversion–extraversion scale, and what form your dwelling takes, the current global circumstances of social distancing and home isolation mean we are spending more time indoors than ever before. For some, the last few months have allowed us to fall more deeply in love with our homes. For others, spending more time inside has highlighted their home’s shortcomings. Whether we recognise it or not, we are grappling with the reality of how our interior environments impact our lives – now more than ever.

Over the last decade, environmentally sustainable building practices have become a vital part of building design. Of equal importance is the notion of emotional sustainability. Beyond the basic function of providing shelter a place to sleep, to bathe, to eat and to gather, buildings need to be sanctuaries. They are guardians of our identities and, more than just merely enabling us to exist, they need to provide the canvas upon which we live our most desired lives.

Our homes are not just physical sanctuaries, they are also our psychological ones. Traditionally, a sanctuary was a sacred place or, more broadly, a place that provided protection. In times of uncertainty and upheaval, having the stability of the sanctuary is vital for our sense of safety; it is only when we feel secure that we can psychologically and physiologically relax and focus our energies on more than survival. Historically, it is understandable then why religious institutions have invested so heavily in monumental, physical edifices that simultaneously ground us and awe us. However, our homes are no longer just caves, huts and cottages where we retreat from the world – they have become the frames for our entire lives: our places of work, recreation, contemplation; our children’s schools and playgrounds; places for exploration, stimulation, discovery and connection. Beyond these activities, our homes are now also where we seek to meet our all our psychological needs.

Le Corbusier, the grandfather of modern architecture who was dedicated to providing better living conditions for the residents of crowded cities, famously said, ‘What a [hu]man wants is a monk’s cell, well lit and heated, with a corner which [we] can look at the stars.’ This philosophy has defined design for over a century. Its pared-back minimalism celebrates architecture as an art form alongside painting, sculpture and other art forms. Structures that are undoubtedly stunning to look at and admire, but often not desirable to live in. Behind minimalism is the notion that a person’s feelings and personality are projected onto the blank canvas that is the architecture. Masterfully executed minimalism creates stunning ambiences through the play of light, sculpture-like form, undulating textures and monochromic contrasting. Tragically, ‘minimalism’ today is too often the result of limited design consideration; it is a justification for economic efficiencies and can mask a lack of design confidence.

Good design is not just about providing a blank canvas upon which to project our identities and our emotions: like art, design should evoke an emotive response. Where art and design differ is in function and meaning. Art exists for art alone, to stimulate an intellectual and/or emotional response, whereas interior design needs to have a purpose and its inhabitants create the meaning. A superbly designed home contains a variety of ambiences: areas for retreat and areas for expansion, places to be social and places to isolate.

As humans, we need to see the horizon that encourages exploration and curiosity, as well as feel the safety of being contained. Like a symphony, a jazz standard or a rock anthem, an interior should take us on an emotional journey. Rather than being a single note, or a baseline or drumbeat, it should have complexity and variations on a theme. In cooking, there are similar philosophies: in Thai cookery, for instance, a meal should consist of sweet, sour, salty, creamy, spicy and bitter. If any of these components is missing then, despite feeling full, the body does not feel sated.

Our homes are places that enable us to connect to who we are fundamentally - as individuals, in family units, and in communities. They should signify where we have come from; they enable us to remember and to forget; and they should be places where we experience the fullest range of emotions: hope, sorrow, joy, love and surrender. And, they should be places to nurture our self-understanding. The most successful interiors enable growth - and gratitude. If you have ever been to a home that has been styled for sale there is often something soulless about it - an emotional disconnect. This is because the house has been deliberately presented as a blank canvas, so anyone could imagine themselves living there. But such properties just feel staged and lacking in personality, and that is because these spaces lack identity. And without identity, there is no real warmth, no real connection and limited potential for nurture and inspiration.

If our values can be loosely defined by what we spend our effort, time and money on, what are the values reflected in your home? What does your home say about you, and the people you may share your space with? How does your home make you feel about yourself? There exists a beautiful tension in that our homes both remind us of who we are and where we come from, while at the same time inspiring us to be greater than in our pasts and to create our future selves.

These unprecedented times offer a unique perspective to examine what it is that creates a psychological sanctuary, a guardian of identity and desirable living. As life outside of our homes is disrupted, interrupted and reconfigured, what we do have a degree of control over is our interior environments and our own sense of ourselves – who we are and who we want to be.

An ‘enlightened interior’ recognises that our bodies behave in accordance with our emotional state. If our environment is disorganised, messy and uninspiring, it is likely we will feel uninspired – and present ourselves as someone who is, in turn, uninspiring. Whereas if our environment creates a state of joy, ease, peace and optimism, we will both experience, and project, these qualities. Because our environment powerfully influences our performance and identity, ask yourself this: when you open your eyes in the morning, what do you see? And more importantly, how does it impact or affect your day? Our lives are nothing other than a collection of single days lived in succession, one after another, so how does your environment impact not only your day – but your life?

Kate Challis