PEOPLE ASSUME MINIMALISM BEGINS WITH TASTE — A PREFERENCE FOR CLEAN LINES, QUIET COLOUR PALETTES, OR THE KIND OF RESTRAINT YOU ACQUIRE SLOWLY OVER TIME. BUT FOR ME, IT BEGAN WITH SQUARE METRES. FORTY-EIGHT OF THEM, TO BE EXACT.
YEARS AGO, I LIVED ON FITZROY SQUARE IN LONDON. THE SQUARE ITSELF IS STEEPED IN GRANDEUR: GEORGIAN FAÇADES, BLUE PLAQUES HONOURING FORMER RESIDENTS, THE KIND OF CREAMY SYMMETRY THAT MAKES ARCHITECTS PAUSE MID-STRIDE. BUT I WASN’T LIVING IN ONE OF THE GRAND DRAWING ROOMS. I WAS LIVING IN A SHOEBOX — JUST UNDER 50 SQUARE METRES — TUCKED SOMEWHERE BEHIND ALL THAT HISTORY.
IT WAS THE FIRST PLACE WHERE I HAD TO MAKE EVERY SQUARE CENTIMETRE COUNT. NOT STYLISTICALLY, BUT FUNCTIONALLY. AND THAT WAS WHERE MY REAL EDUCATION IN MINIMALISM BEGAN.
CLARITY BORN FROM CONSTRAINT
WHEN YOU LIVE SMALL IN A PLACE SURROUNDED BY ARCHITECTURAL DISCIPLINE, YOU START TO UNDERSTAND PROPORTION IN A VERY DIFFERENT WAY. FITZROY SQUARE TAUGHT ME THAT MINIMALISM ISN’T ABOUT OWNING LESS FURNITURE — IT’S ABOUT UNDERSTANDING SPACE. EVERY DECISION HAD TO EARN ITS PLACE.
THERE WAS ROOM FOR ONLY A SMALL SOFA, PICKED UP ON SALE FROM HEAL’S, AND NO POSSIBILITY OF A SALON TABLE, SO I USED A SINGLE SIDE TABLE THAT COULD MOVE FLUIDLY AROUND THE FLAT — SOMETIMES EVEN BESIDE THE BATH. A PROPER DINING TABLE WAS IMPOSSIBLE, SO I LIVED WITH A SMALL SQUARE ONE AND TWO WOODEN CHAIRS. I DIDN’T OWN A TELEVISION; THE IDEA OF INTRODUCING “UGLY TECH” FELT VISUALLY INTRUSIVE IN SUCH A COMPACT SPACE. INSTEAD, I HAD TWO TURNTABLES, BOOKS AND VINYL — OBJECTS THAT OFFERED BOTH FUNCTION AND PLEASURE WITHOUT OVERWHELMING THE ROOM. THE BEDROOM HELD JUST A SMALL CUPBOARD AND A WARDROBE FOR CLOTHES. THAT WAS THE EXTENT OF MY STORAGE.
I LEARNED QUICKLY THAT ONE GOOD CHAIR IS BETTER THAN THREE MEDIOCRE ONES.
THAT SURFACES NEED BREATHING ROOM.
THAT LIGHT DOES MORE DECORATING THAN OBJECTS EVER WILL.
IT WASN’T “MINIMALISM” YET — JUST SURVIVAL. BUT IT PLANTED THE SEEDS.
THE PREDECESSORS OF THE QUIET LIFE
AS I BEGAN WORKING IN DESIGN, I REALISED WHAT FITZROY SQUARE HAD BEEN WHISPERING ALL ALONG. THE PRINCIPLES I WAS FUMBLING TOWARD HAD BEEN EXPLORED FOR OVER A CENTURY:
• JAPANESE ARCHITECTURE WITH ITS REVERENCE FOR EMPTINESS AND IMPERMANENCE.
• BAUHAUS, WHICH STRIPPED ORNAMENT TO REVEAL PURPOSE.
• MID-CENTURY MODERNISTS LIKE PERRIAND AND AALTO, WHO UNDERSTOOD THAT SIMPLICITY IS A FORM OF GENEROSITY.
MINIMALISM IS OFTEN DESCRIBED AS SUBTRACTION, BUT AT ITS BEST IT IS PRECISION — THE EXACT AMOUNT NEEDED FOR LIFE TO UNFOLD GRACEFULLY.
MINIMALISM BECOMES INTENTIONAL
LATER, WHEN I ENCOUNTERED THE WORKS OF JOHN PAWSON, HANS VERSTUYFT, VINCENT VAN DUYSEN AND THE BELGIAN SCHOOL OF SOFT MINIMALISM, SOMETHING CLICKED. THIS WASN’T JUST ABOUT REDUCTION; IT WAS ABOUT EDITING. ABOUT CREATING ROOMS WHERE MATERIAL, PROPORTION AND SILENCE DO THE HEAVY LIFTING.
IT FELT FAMILIAR.
IT FELT LIKE FITZROY SQUARE.
A MOVEMENT SOFTENED
TODAY’S MINIMALISM IS LESS SEVERE THAN THE 1990S WHITE-BOX AESTHETIC. IT’S TEXTURED, TACTILE, ALMOST WABI-SABI. IT WELCOMES IMPERFECTION — A LIMEWASHED WALL, VEINED MARBLE, TIMBER THAT TELLS ITS OWN HISTORY. IT PRIORITISES CALM OVER SPECTACLE.
AND THIS SHIFT BRINGS MINIMALISM BACK TO ITS ORIGINAL PURPOSE:
TO MAKE SPACE FOR THE THINGS THAT MATTER, AND REMOVE THE NOISE THAT DOESN’T.
WHERE IT TRULY BEGAN
I DIDN’T FIND MINIMALISM THROUGH BOOKS OR ARCHITECTS OR GALLERIES.
I FOUND IT IN A SMALL FLAT ON A VERY GRAND SQUARE, LEARNING HOW TO LIVE WITH INTENTION BECAUSE THE WALLS DIDN’T ALLOW ANYTHING ELSE.
MINIMALISM DIDN’T ARRIVE AS AN AESTHETIC.
IT REVEALED ITSELF AS A WAY OF SEEING — AND LATER, A WAY OF LIVING.
AND SOMETIMES, THAT’S ALL DESIGN IS:
A SERIES OF QUIET LESSONS FROM THE PLACES THAT SHAPE US LONG BEFORE WE REALISE WE WERE LEARNING ANYTHING AT ALL.
Image credit: Interior by Nicolas Schuybroek, photo by Piet-Albert Goethals