Architect and designer Laura Jane Clark on her design style

Laura Jane Clark on her home’s design inspiration

Most people think that the ultimate aspiration for all architects is to live in their own design: a slick, sleek, contemporary home with voice-command lighting and no visible door handles anywhere. l’m sure for some that may be the case, but for nearly every architect I’ve known, they live in the exact opposite of the spaces they design.

When working for clients, I lean towards minimalism and clean lines, but in my own spaces my mind starts in a crumbling French chateau with old chevron timber flooring, creaking shutters and woodworm-riddled beams. This dichotomy of styles seems like a total contradiction, yet when you start to break down design to its fundamentals, inspiration can come from anywhere, any time or any place.

I haven’t travelled a huge amount, but when I do, I travel hard. My camera reel is always full of old brickwork and cladding, centuries-old timber doors, cast-iron balconies and drafty-looking windows. Finding decades or centuries of design history together in the fabric of a single building is my dream.

It’s fascinating when you start to see what you love in contemporary design and modern buildings reflected in ancient architectural design. Ways to frame views and form focal points, create drama in the space and how to bring in natural light, are as old as the practice of architecture itself.

I’ve always been more daring in my interior schemes than my clothing. I adore deep, rich tones, muted colours, abstract patterns and texture rather than full-on animal-print velour wallpaper and bright pops of jewel colours. You can see my tentative, architect’s minimalist roots in my interiors, but even as my confidence has grown and I’ve been mixing zebra patterns, velvets and chinoiserie prints with abandon, there is still a muted subtlety to my aesthetic.

Until writing this very article, I would have assumed that my maximalist style may be somewhat tame due to my lack of confidence, but I’ve come to a bit of a realisation. It’s not that I’m afraid when it comes to combining bright colours and clashing patterns, it is in fact because, subconsciously, I’m trying to create the beauty and ambiance, the tones and textures of a sun bleached town in southern Europe.

Those taupes and terracottas, deep blues and faded greys are what make my heart sing, but growing up in north Wales and now living in Glasgow, I can only try to recreate that feeling of sun-soaked elegance through my interior styling. Big, soft rugs on top of dark wooden floors are a must, however, as there is always a high probability of dancing.