Apples or oranges? New York or L.A.? Spotify or Apple Music? Warriors or Thunder? These days you can pick your corner, your subculture, your team, and just wallow yourself to death in it. Even with interior design, there are so many options that are all fashionable at once. You want your Steampunk Man Cave? How about your Zen Room, Safe Room, or Retro Midcentury Tiki Scream Room? Feel free to let your interior-design freak flag fly. But do it right. At opposite poles of this vast spectrum of sanctimonious spaces are minimum and maximum. Both styles are aesthetically ambitious and completely relevant right now. Would you care for a spare, elegant, sophisticated style for your home's interior? Or a highly personalized hemorrhagic tableau expressing your multifaceted collections and richly curated life? After your sartorial style, your interior decoration may be the most personal billboard of them all.
So…what's right for you?
Minimalism is the design equivalent of a 1,500-calorie-a-day diet—and about as difficult to adhere to. To paraphrase Baloo from The Jungle Book, it's the bare necessities, the simple bare necessities, forget about your clutter and your strife. Minimalism is a philosophy, a reaction to all of modern life's visual vomit. As the world becomes more cacophonous, perhaps a design alternative is to have your home decor simplified, calm, and serene, with a heightened sense of clarity. The idea is to put all your thought and dough into just a few really great treasures. Then fine-tune every detail. The style of a picture frame, the kind of cord on the lamp, the finish on the floor. Stuff you wouldn't notice if the room was cluttered becomes a beacon when a space is pared down. It has been said that minimalism is not a style that precludes possession, but a style that precludes careless possession. Only the essentials, thank you very much.
The idea of “minimalism” began to gain traction in the late '60s and '70s, when it described the work of fine artists like Donald Judd, Robert Ryman, Agnes Martin, and others whose work was very spare. The British designer John Pawson—we'll look at one of his spaces shortly—is perhaps the godfather of this architectural and interior genre. The release of his 1996 book, Minimum, was a watershed moment for the movement. He called his rooms “the excitement of empty space.” How's that for a Zen declaration?
I actually think it's a bit harder to be a great maximalist. You'd think you'd be freer when allowed to mix styles and periods. But, done wrong, it's just a chaotic mess. To quote the Divinyls, there's a fine line between pleasure and pain. And dare ye not forget the pithy expression “Sometimes an embarrassment of riches is just an embarrassment.”
One of the greatest maximalist rooms of all time is a collaboration between two of the most stylish men of all time—Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé. That's their legendary Paris apartment below. Of course, each object in the room, from the Fernand Léger painting The Black Profile (1928) to the Jean-Michel Frank sofa to the African artifacts and Renaissance-age bronzes, is worth more than my whole house. But the combination of all these perfect items mixed perfectly together is pretty much, well, perfect in every way. It requires some serious retinal energy to explore it, but man, it's worth it.
The most effective maximalist rooms are expressions of a life well lived. They're celebrations of objects and design—things that have been collected with a freestyle combination of judiciousness and wild abandon. Maximalist rooms are bereft of the current style trends; they're more about a well-confected hoard of delicious design goodness. Seldom will a first impression of a minimal room induce that jaw-dropping Wow! like a good maximalist room can. If minimalism is about the empty breathing space, maximalism is about taking the breath away.
Here, we'll look at some enviable examples of each style—and teach you how to decode them.
One might think that only a psychopath could live a true minimalist's life—and the American Psycho condo upholds that theory. The interior is emblematic of Wall Street's crazy '80s, right down to the Robert Longo Men in the Cities print and Mies van der Rohe's timeless Barcelona furniture. All these pieces sit in eerie deference to the violence about to be executed within the stark black-and-white interior. It's minimalism as evil lair.
Nothing beats a neutral sofa that disappears into the wall. A great, affordable ivory fabric, wonderful for upholstery, is Fabricut's Primary Eggshell.
For a bright, contemporary stark-white paint: Farrow & Ball's Strong White.
Now, here is a great collection of modernism from different periods, all of it casually combined. That vintage mirror—Ultrafragola by Ettore Sottsass—is about the hippest thing on the planet right now, isn't it? And there's a Poul Kjaerholm leather-and-steel stool, a Jean Prouvé bookcase, and a Le Corbusier sofa. There's even a sprig of California modernism, with Greta Grossman's Grasshopper floor lamp. I want to be friends with these people; maybe their cool will rub off.
The current trend in minimalism is home-as-art-gallery. This noted minimalist architect's place is a perfect example. A bent-plywood chair by Grete Jalk complements a wall sculpture and daybed by Donald Judd and a pair of brown leather chairs by Fabricius & Kastholm. They're all displayed elegantly in a minimal white envelope—the epitome of suavity. Consider mixing furniture that is both organic and biomorphic with more severe right-angled pieces. The juxtaposition creates a fluid “dance” and keeps the eye moving nicely—and endlessly.
Benjamin Moore White Dove is a perfect, flexible white paint color. Warm but not too yellow. Works for contemporary and traditional scenes.
Many minimalist designers prefer wood floors from Dinesen. I like GrandOak, Classic, best. Gorgeous. Flawless. Expensive.
Wood with a deep ebony finish provides a great rich contrast in a predominantly white contemporary room.
Poul Kjaerholm furniture is particularly in vogue; consequently, it's being knocked off often. If you can't afford the real deal, these are Restoration Hardware.
There's no better aspirational image of maximalism than Karl Lagerfeld's legendary library—a visually baroque book lover's wet dream. Notice that most of the books are stacked horizontally. What's that about? I wonder if it's a design choice or a practical one—so Karl doesn't have to turn his head to read the titles. That stiff-starched high collar in your way, Herr Lagerfeld?
Please note: Minimal interior design doesn't necessarily have to be executed in an all-white wrapping. Witness the stark but nicely patinated confections of the great Belgian designer Axel Vervoordt. He creates exquisite interiors, often working with rustic, centuries-old European buildings. Maximum beauty with minimum ingredients—no matter the period of reference. He's big on organic materials and can easily be diagnosed as having a finish fetish—walls of Venetian plaster and floors of ancient reclaimed timbers, woodwork pickled to within an inch of its life. Or, better yet, old walls and materials left looking old but waxed to preserve, enrich, and exploit the age. But a minimalist interior should not feel empty—note, in our photograph here, the regally perched and perfectly art-directed kat.
A nicely constructed linen slipcover hides a multitude of sins and can class up a cheap sofa. (Not that you would have one.)
You can replicate these walls with a good natural milk paint and a little (or a lot) of experimentation.
Useful in any style of space: rustic wooden bowls, like these from Restoration Hardware.
Vervoordt favors East Asian pottery and Roman glass. For an all-American take, try Heath Ceramics from California.
Personally, I'm a binger and a purger—I tend to start out in a new house empty and stark, vowing to stay pure; then, after a few years of traveling, collecting, and picking up stuff from the dock of the eBay, I end up with the producers of Hoarders slipping fan letters under the door. Exhausted with excess and inspired by those beautiful empty rooms, I move or purge and start all over again. I aspire to minimalism and backslide easily and willingly into decadent maximalism. Where's my support group?
It's unusual to be living in a time when both minimalism and maximalism look and feel fresh, vital, and relevant, so I say take advantage. Pick the style that moves you, and do it well.
Brad Dunning is known for his writings and his work on architecturally significant properties, restorations, and his own original designs.