Seeing Your Home Again
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read
One of the most useful decorating tools I’ve ever used isn’t a paint chart or a tape measure. It’s a camera. That might sound strange coming from someone who’s spent the last thirty-five years styling and designing homes, but as they say a camera never lies and it highlights things we’ve stopped noticing.The camera has no emotional attachment to the extra chair that was placed as a temporary measure and that you’ve been re-routing around for years but that has somehow become a permanent fixture, the pile of books that has gradually grown on the coffee table or the lamp that was never quite the right solution but you’ve learnt to live with it over time. Somehow it reveals to you the reality of the space. When we stand in a room our eyes naturally edit. We notice the view, the fireplace, the person we’re talking to. A camera doesn’t do that. It flattens everything into the same frame, giving every object equal importance. Suddenly the chair you’ve stopped noticing is shouting for attention, while the window you’ve always loved is almost hidden. In doing so, the camera somehow strips a room back to its essence. What is this room really about? Many years ago I was photographing an apartment in New York. It was a stunning loft space that the owner had decorated beautifully and it had wonderful bones. The kitchen island was monumental, an architectural wonder hung with an extraordinary collection of antique French copper pots and pans. Along with a set of incredible double height, antique Indian doors that she had installed as her front door, it was the heart of the whole space. As we always did before a shoot, we efficiently began moving things. All working in sync as we all knew instinctively what needed to be moved in order to get the best out of this space in photographic terms. Not because anything was wrong really, but because they were competing with one another. The dining table sat alongside the island and, in everyday life, it worked perfectly well. But through the lens it interrupted the view of that extraordinary island, so we moved it a little to one side. We carried on through the house in the same way, editing each room so its strongest qualities could shine- and we got some pretty stunning images for the book (The Relaxed Home published in 2000 btw if anyone’s interested) But by mid-afternoon the owner had had enough. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” she said. Well, we packed up our cameras and kit faster than we’d ever packed them before. Looking back, I actually do completely understand how she felt. We’d spent the day moving the things she’d carefully chosen and lovingly arranged. It must have looked as though we were criticising her home. But that wasn’t what we were doing at all and I wish I’d had the confidence at the time to say this: “We love your home. We’re simply trying to help people see what makes it so special.” Fast forward 25 years, another house another book… The owners had designed it with care, creativity and integrity. You walked in and immediately felt calm and at ease. But with all their brilliant attention to the walls, floors, windows and colour scheme they hadn’t got the layout quite right. The sitting area had been squeezed into a corner while the dining table occupied the largest, brightest part of the room overlooking the garden, which might have been OK except that it was too small for the space and felt lost. I asked whether they’d mind if we swapped them over for the shoot and they were really relaxed about it, “Sure we don’t mind, do what you like” they said. The house looked beautiful and we got some amazing shots. When we started to return everything at the end of the day, they stopped us. “You’ve revolutionised the way we live,” they said. “We’d never thought of arranging it like that.” I’ve been back since, and they still haven’t moved it back. It wasn’t a new sofa or a bigger dining table, it was simply seeing the room differently. This is what photographing homes has taught me more than anything else. Not how to make homes prettier or more stylish, but how to see them. Clearly. I use it for client’s homes when designing, I use it on shoots when styling and I do it in my own home. If a corner in my sitting room or bedroom doesn’t feel quite right, I’ll often take out my phone and photograph it. Artists have long looked at their paintings in a mirror because it reveals proportions and compositions they can no longer see. Well a camera does something similar. It removes the familiarity with a room and shows us what our eyes have become accustomed to. Sometimes I realise a chair is too close to a window or a lamp is interrupting the view. Sometimes a mirror needs moving to catch the light and bring depth to a space that looks flat and lifeless. Because the camera is remarkably honest but also it has the amazing ability to simply show you what your room is trying to say. Last week, while photographing my new book with Polly, we spent almost three hours waiting for the light. Nothing in the room changed. We didn’t add anything. We didn’t move furniture. We simply waited until the morning sun filtered through the poplar trees and cast dappled shadows across the floor. When it finally came the room was transformed and it reminded me that good design isn’t always about changing a room. Sometimes it’s about waiting and taking your time and sometimes it’s about editing. More often than not it’s simply about standing back long enough to see what has been there all along. The light simply revealed what had been there all morning. So as an experiment, next time a room in your home doesn’t feel quite right, don’t rush out to buy another cushion. Stand in the doorway, take a photograph, then ask yourself one question. What is this room really about? |
If this week's Studio Notes resonated with you... One Calm Moment grew from exactly the same philosophy. It's an invitation to slow down, notice your home differently and discover how the smallest changes can have the biggest impact. If you'd like to explore that idea further, you can find it here. |






















