A Designer’s Eye on Travel: How Visiting Beautiful Spaces & Places Inspires My Work
I think of travel loosely. Sometimes it is a flight across the country. Sometimes it is a slow walk around my block at dusk with my phone out because the light inside someone’s old house turned amber and I had to try to capture it. Either way, getting out of my chair and into the world feeds me. I store these tiny moments in the back of my head and they come out later when I am designing, even if I cannot point to a single one and say “this is where that came from.” It is more like osmosis. I take it in. It shows up when I need it.
WHAT I NOTICE FIRST (ALMOST WITHOUT TRYING)
Juxtaposition. Old next to new. A worn clapboard that weathered itself into a color no one can mix on purpose. The angle of a roofline. A front door that feels like a handshake. Stairs that make you walk a little slower and a porch baluster that is somehow both formal and friendly. Moss creeping between bricks. A glimpse through fence boards that makes a whole story in my head. And always, always, the way light behaves, especially at dusk. I have an embarrassing number of photos taken into people’s homes from the sidewalk (respectfully!). When the interior light goes warm and you can just make out a painting or a lamp or the edge of a chair, I am done for.
WHERE I GO ON PURPOSE
Hotels and restaurants are a goldmine, especially when someone clever has tucked them into old buildings. Recently in Hood River, I wandered through a string of fresh, thoughtful places, new ideas, old bones, a very good mix. At home, I am a happy voyeur: open houses, estate sales, YouTube house tours from all over the world when I cannot get on a plane. Portland’s makers feed me too. Shops like Notary Ceramics in Sellwood are as beautifully put together as the work they sell. If I am drawn to the craft, I am usually drawn to the space around it.
PLACES THAT KEEP CALLING ME
New England. I love it. The history, the architecture, the polite bones with a quiet wink, the imperfect edges that feel welcoming. Brick and clapboard, shingled saltboxes, stone walls with a little moss, porch lights coming on at dusk. Formal in outline and human in the details - endlessly inspiring and never the same twice.
Hudson Valley (next on my list). I have not been yet, but I am pulled to it. Downtown Hudson, the antique shops, the creative people doing beautiful, personal things to old homes, I want to poke around, see the shops, meet the work in person. From what I have seen and read, the landscape and the antiquity of that area feel like a fit for me.
Close to home. Hood River, obviously, but also my own neighborhood. Light through an old window in my house will stop me as fast as any museum. Unexpected things live right here, too.
HOW IT SHOWS UP IN THE WORK (THE LONG WAY AROUND)
I do not usually see one thing and copy it. It is more that I have seen a thousand small things and they let me move more freely. Example: We recently built a bench into the side of a refrigerator run. It is unusual for a kitchen, but very normal in an old entryway. I know I have seen that relationship of “rest here as you arrive” before, probably many times, so when the plan wanted it, my brain said yes. That is how it works. Repetition turns into instinct.
WHAT I COLLECT WHEN I TRAVEL
Photos, of course. My poor husband has pulled over more times than I can count. Also little pieces of art and the odd small thing that looks perfect on a plate rail or a tiny shelf. Fabrics get me every time. And wool blankets. We own an inordinate number of very good wool blankets and I regret nothing.
HOW I MOVE THROUGH A NEW PLACE
I look down as much as I look up. I take pictures of doorways and stair treads and the way a storefront meets the sidewalk. I look at color palettes straight from nature. I notice how people solve old problems in new ways without disrespecting what the building already is. I pay attention to how a space feels in my body — the scale, the welcome, the invitation to stay a while.
WHY TRAVEL (AND LOOKING) MATTERS TO MY DESIGN STYLE
Seeing and noticing keeps my work generous. It lets me borrow the calm of a New England street, the texture of a mossy brick path, the cleverness of a restaurant built inside a century-old building, and translate that into rooms you can live in. It keeps me respectful of history and open to fresh ideas at the same time.
IF YOU WANT TO TRAVEL LIKE A DESIGNER
Wander restaurants and hotels in older buildings. Step into local galleries and makers’ shops. Pop into an open house. Say yes to an estate sale. Watch a few too many YouTube house tours. Walk at dusk and look for that soft interior glow. Take the photo. You do not need a plan so much as a habit of paying attention.
Notes to self (and anyone else who cares): keep stopping for the small things, keep taking the pictures, keep collecting the tiny surprises. They always find their way back into the work.