The Question That Shapes Every Project
At the beginning of every project—before ideas are formed, before plans are drawn, before colours are discussed or furniture is chosen—I ask what is, for me, the most important question.
How can we make this place more valuable?
Financial value certainly matters, but places create value in many different ways.
A home might support a family better than it did before.
A neglected building might reconnect with its neighbourhood.
A hospitality venue might become somewhere people return to because it feels cared for rather than fashionable.
Value can be measured in profitability, but also in beauty, belonging, service and longevity.
I've never been particularly interested in simply creating spaces to be admired.
Beautiful rooms absolutely have their place.
But I believe beauty without purpose is fleeting.
The places that stay with us continue to serve us long after the photographs have been taken.
They evolve and mature becoming more meaningful with time.
This is why I've become more interested in the evolution of places than the completion of projects.
A project has an end date.
A place has a life.
Looking back over the past fifteen years, I've renovated homes, operated a neighbourhood hotel, restored heritage properties and developed boutique accommodation.
On the surface they appear unrelated.
Yet every one has been guided by the same question.
How do we add value and leave this place stronger than we found it?
Owning the East Village Hotel taught me that some businesses become part of the social fabric of a community.
Stewardship became more important than ownership.
Living in homes we've renovated taught me something equally valuable.
The true measure of a decision isn't how it looks when construction is complete.
It's how it performs after years of everyday life.
Those experiences shaped The White Room.
We don't begin with a signature style.
We begin by trying to understand the potential of a place and the people who will live in it, gather within it or return to it.
Everything else follows from there.
For me, creating places of enduring value means creating places that become part of people's lives.
A neighbourhood pub where birthdays, weddings and wakes are all held under the same roof.
A home where children grow up and later return with children of their own.
A holiday house where people come together, reconnect and create memories they'll carry long after they leave
For me, that's the real measure of good design.
Not how a place looks on the day it's finished.
Whether it's still valuable years later.