The last couple years of numerous lockdowns has made many of us see the importance of our homes as sanctuaries from the world outside. How the inside of our living spaces look is a reflection of who we are, what makes us feel calm and happy. Two interior design styles that speak to our different personalities are minimalism and maximalism. For some, a fuss-free, stark home with spare white walls helps to feel serene and still, creating an appreciation of the little things. For others, maximalism is the ultimate comforting mood-booster, a visual reminder of favourite objects amassed over a lifetime. Here, a minimalist and maximalist discuss the merits of each approach.
Many designers initially had reservations about minimalism. As a social innovator who has spent her career addressing issues predominantly associated with inequalities, minimalism sounded like a subject only the rich could be concerned with. They could not imagine themselves, at work leading or designing a project, telling people who – at times did not even know where their next meal is coming from – that, “less is more, just declutter.” Less of what?
But minimalism is not just about a design aesthetic. It’s a philosophy with holistic benefits, as argued by authors and podcasters Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus in their Netflix documentary series Less Is Now. Like Marie Kondo, the pair advocate for the process of removing unfavourable things in your life, keeping only the items that add happiness. According to them, “We created Less Is Now because we wanted to explore the benefits of starting over with less”.
Our digital consumption adds a layer of influx that minimalists caution against, so we focus on the things that matter the most. It’s about calmness and clarity. Recently, while adjusting the window to my bedroom in my apartment the, latch bent causing the window to be stuck and unable to close. Despite my constant push and puffs, rising frustration followed with irritation. Most designers gave in. For a split second
The term was originally associated with the art scene of the late ‘50s. The aesthetically pleasing art of simplicity was a reaction against the abstract expressionist movement of the 1950s, which the minimalists thought was sentimental and pretentious. Instead, this new wave of artists thought that art should not refer to the artist’s emotional state – it should be stripped of external motives and meaning and be evaluated as a piece of art and nothing more.
Today, it has evolved to become an umbrella term to describe, not only a genre of art, but also, among other things, a certain way of dressing and a type of interior design. It is a look characterised by order, simplicity and harmony. My love for bright colours, fashion, and tech bears some contrasts to the plain, white aesthetics associated with minimalism. My own urgent need to seek a more minimal path several years ago begun with the collapse of my 150-foot built-in wardrobe. I realised I didn’t need all these clothes and shoes and decluttered.
Now, I borrow more from the minimal camp of intentionality and serenity. I bask in organisation, rather than clutter. My apartment is a typical example of a minimalist living space with its neutral aesthetics and arrangements. Functional, small, but cosy. My sanctuary, my peace. I donated most of my possessions before moving in. It allowed me to feel free, creating a calming vibe while living more sustainably. Minimalists can take many forms – there are, of course, the Marie Kondo joy-seekers who focus on curating a house that is deliberate and satisfying. Some, activists, and environmentalists by default also prove to be great examples of minimalists through their conscious moral purchases and recycling.
Everyone has their journey into minimalism, Writer Christine Platt, also known as Afrominimalist, shared her journey: “I”m committed to doing something about my excess. The one word that kept coming up in my search was minimalism. And so, my journey began. Minimalism is liberation.”
