How Much Design Is Too Much Design?
On visual intelligence, architectural identity and the freedom to make a home your own.
After more than twenty years working across art, design and fashion, I have become increasingly interested in the difference between a home that contains a great deal of design and one that has been designed exceptionally well.
I can often sense the difference before I have examined a single detail. It begins with the approach to the property: its location, the surrounding architecture, the landscape and the character of the building itself. By the time I enter, I already have a sense of the architectural context, and I am curious to see how the interior responds to it.
A seaside villa naturally invites a different approach from a residence in the centre of a city. The quality of light, the views, the proportions and the relationship between inside and outside all contribute to the direction a home might take. The interior should develop that architectural character into something more personal, creating a connection between the property, its surroundings and the people who live there.
My first impression is usually one of visual clarity. I notice whether the materials belong together, whether the architectural features have a clear relationship, where the eye naturally settles and how well the details have been executed. A beautifully composed residence can be richly layered or exceptionally restrained. What matters is whether the individual elements contribute to a recognisable architectural identity.
I have walked through luxury villas where considerable money has been invested in impressive finishes, elaborate joinery and architectural features, yet the completed interiors feel strangely disconnected. Different rooms introduce entirely unrelated materials, colours and decorative treatments, sometimes creating the impression that the last few square metres of several showroom collections have been distributed throughout the property. Individual finishes may be attractive, but the absence of an overall direction diminishes the quality of the residence.
At the other extreme, an interior can be so bare that the architecture has very little character of its own. Beautiful furniture and personal objects may fill the rooms, yet the building contributes almost nothing to the experience. The result can feel equally unresolved.
Both experiences raise a question I consider fundamental to residential design: how much design does a home actually need, and how do we recognise when the composition is complete?
THE ARCHITECTURE AS A WHOLE
When we begin designing a residence, we consider the property as a complete architectural composition. Its location, surroundings, existing architecture and relationship to the landscape establish the context. We then explore how our clients want to live, the atmosphere they are drawn to, the materials they respond to and the relationships they want between different spaces.
Through conversations, visual references and material studies, we establish an overall architectural language before developing the individual rooms. The kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms and living areas are designed as parts of the same residence, each with its own purpose and character.
Consider a home designed around a predominantly neutral palette. A bathroom might introduce cool green marble, while another incorporates a warmer green stone. The colours give each room individuality, but their relationship to the surrounding finishes allows them to remain part of the same composition.
A striking reddish marble might establish a focal point in the entrance, while related stones with pink or burgundy undertones appear elsewhere. The materials can vary considerably, yet their shared characteristics create a recognisable connection between rooms. Geometry can work in the same way: long horizontal and vertical lines might organise the principal spaces, with curves introduced to soften particular areas or create sculptural moments.
A clear design direction guides the decisions made throughout a project, allowing each room to develop its own character while contributing to the identity of the home.
THE INTELLIGENCE BEHIND VISUAL COMPLEXITY
One of the first things I consider when designing a space is where the eye should land. What do we see when we enter? Which architectural feature deserves attention first? What becomes visible as we move further into the room?
A sculptural staircase might define an entrance, with surrounding materials and lighting composed to emphasise its form. Elsewhere, a remarkable view or a beautifully proportioned double-height space might already provide the architectural focus. Visual hierarchy allows us to establish which elements should command attention and how the surrounding details support them.
The importance of hierarchy becomes particularly apparent in richly layered interiors. More materials, colours, artworks and architectural features create more relationships for the designer to resolve.
I admire the work of Kelly Wearstler for precisely this reason. Her interiors often combine colours, materials and forms that appear unrelated when considered individually, yet together they create remarkably cohesive environments. I find them exciting and calming at once.
The same intelligence can be recognised in architecture entirely outside one’s personal taste. A historic Parisian apartment with elaborate mouldings, decorative ceilings and beautifully proportioned windows can become even more compelling when furnished with contemporary sculptural pieces. The contrast highlights the character of the original building while giving the furniture a distinctive presence of its own.
I could imagine furnishing an elaborate historic castle with ultra-modern, predominantly white sculptural furniture. The relationship might emerge through proportion, the tones of the original stone, or the way contemporary forms contrast with intricate architectural detailing. The result could celebrate both periods without requiring either to imitate the other.
Architectural quality becomes recognisable through these relationships, independently of whether the style is one we would choose for ourselves.
DEEP PEAK — The House That Made Abundance an Architectural Achievement
Sir John Soane spent decades transforming his London home into an extraordinary collection of art, antiquities and architectural experiments. One of its most ingenious features is the Picture Room, where hinged walls known as picture planes reveal additional paintings when opened.
Soane created a room whose architecture could change to accommodate and reveal its contents. The arrangement allowed an extraordinary collection to occupy a relatively compact space while creating an experience of discovery.
The house demonstrates how architectural intelligence can give richness and complexity a clear purpose. Its abundance is made possible by the way the space has been designed.
THE 50% PRINCIPLE
There is another question I consider essential to residential design: how much of a home’s identity should be permanently established through its architecture?
My principle is that the core architecture and fixed elements should account for approximately 50% of a home’s overall design.
The architectural framework, flooring, wall finishes, kitchens, bathrooms, integrated joinery and other permanent features should establish a strong, coherent identity. They deserve careful consideration, beautiful execution and sufficient character to give the residence its architectural presence.
The remaining 50% belongs to the people who live there: their furniture, art, textiles, decorative objects, collections and inherited pieces. These layers express culture, heritage, personal taste and the experiences accumulated throughout a lifetime.
A residence with beautifully proportioned spaces, natural stone floors, integrated joinery and a sculptural travertine wall could become a very different home depending on who occupies it.
One family might introduce treasured heirlooms, traditional craftsmanship and artworks that reflect their cultural heritage. Another might bring richly coloured textiles, contemporary furniture or collections gathered through travel. Each household would interpret the same architecture through its own history, preferences and way of life.
The relationship becomes especially interesting when a cherished object appears to have little in common with the surrounding design. An inherited cabinet, an antique chair or an artwork from another period can find its place through carefully considered furniture, complementary materials and thoughtful positioning. Sometimes a contrasting object becomes the most compelling feature in the room.
I see designing a home as a collaboration between the designer’s architectural vision and the identity of the people who will inhabit it. Clients usually approach a designer because they already connect with their work. The design process develops that shared understanding into a home that reflects the clients’ lives while maintaining a coherent architectural direction.
The 50% principle allows the architecture to establish a distinctive identity while giving the occupants meaningful freedom to make it their own.
THE LUXURY OF MAKING A HOME YOUR OWN
For a family intending to remain in a property for decades, permanent architectural decisions can reflect highly individual preferences. Particular materials, colours or features may hold personal significance, and the family may be comfortable committing to them for many years.
A developer designing for an unknown buyer faces a different responsibility.
Dubai’s residential market brings together people from many cultural backgrounds, with different traditions, furniture, art collections and ideas of home. A residence that can accommodate those differences gives prospective buyers greater freedom to imagine their own lives within it. That freedom is a valuable quality in luxury property.
We often associate luxury with rare materials, bespoke features and exceptional craftsmanship. Yet a truly desirable home also offers something deeply personal: the freedom to furnish, decorate and live in it in a way that reflects who we are.
This freedom has financial significance too. Furniture, art and decorative objects can evolve with our tastes, while replacing stone finishes, bathrooms or integrated joinery involves substantial expense and disruption. The permanent architecture therefore plays an important role in how easily a property can adapt to different occupants over time.
A residence designed with that flexibility in mind has the potential to appeal to a broader range of buyers. Its eventual selling price will depend on many factors, but the ability to accommodate different lives without extensive alteration is a practical and commercial advantage. For me, protecting that freedom is part of protecting the client’s investment.
HOW MUCH DESIGN IS TOO MUCH DESIGN
KNOWING WHEN A HOME HAS ENOUGH
After more than twenty years in design, I have become increasingly convinced that recognising when an architectural composition is complete is one of the most important qualities a designer develops.
A strong architectural identity begins with the property itself and continues through the relationships between its spaces, materials, proportions and details. Visual hierarchy allows individual features to be appreciated, while quality of finish gives the original design the precision it deserves. Carefully integrated storage and practical planning help preserve that clarity as everyday life unfolds.
At D’Ora Tokai Designs, our approach to restorative residential design considers the home as a whole: its architecture, surroundings, the people who will inhabit it and the experience we want the residence to create.
My 50% principle reflects a belief that the most successful homes have both a recognisable architectural identity and the capacity to become deeply personal. Their permanent foundations provide character and continuity, while the people who occupy them bring culture, memories, individuality and life.
Perhaps the greatest achievement in residential design is creating architecture with a character strong enough to stand on its own, and the generosity to welcome the lives that will unfold within it.
Further Reading
Books, designers and architectural projects that informed this essay.
Project: Sir John Soane’s Museum — London, United Kingdom
Designer: Kelly Wearstler — Selected Residential Interiors
Book: Robert Venturi — Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture (1966)
Book: Francis D. K. Ching — Architecture: Form, Space, and Order
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