Inclusive Design Language : Building a Foundation for Wellbeing
The first step in any home design process is learning who you are designing for and their design needs. Particularly when designing for something as intimate as a residential space, effective home design requires a great deal of honesty, vulnerability, and open communication with all parties. When clients are open with us, we can design genuinely supportive spaces. If clients feel embarrassed or guarded, they may not feel comfortable being honest about their lifestyle, limiting the ability of the designed space to serve them.
For example, someone who fears judgment may not want to admit to the amount of time they spend curled up watching movies in the evenings, despite being a common way to escape the day and recover. They may perhaps instead overemphasize time spent devoted to their yoga practice. A home designer may then place ample attention on building a dream yoga studio instead of investing in a beautiful, ergonomic, and supportive movie viewing space that would contribute more to daily life. While this is a lighthearted example, there are many instances where this may play out in a more harmful or isolating way. Creating an open dialogue is crucial in preventing any missteps when designing a home.
One piece of creating open and safe relationships with clients is by using inclusive design language. Inclusive language is defined by the Linguistic Society of America as language that "acknowledges diversity, conveys respect to all people, is sensitive to differences, and promotes equal opportunities." Considering language choice does not only help create a more understanding environment between designer and client, but the entire studio team, vendors, and tradespeople. Using inclusive home design language is a small but crucial step in creating open communication and trust between everyone involved in a project.
There is a long history of home design, grounded in tradition. Learning the historical context of the language used both within design and frequently in any workplace helps us understand if the language is supportive or can cause hurt or harm. Our design studio encourages continued education and learning for our whole team. At our weekly meetings, we share information we've learned in classes we've taken, articles or books we've read, or even conversations that may have opened our thinking. Recently, we have put effort into considering the language surrounding home design.
Recently there was a push in the real estate and home design community to eliminate the term "master bedroom" due to its loaded history, replacing it with "primary bedroom." This step towards considering the legacy of language so frequently overlooked had us wondering, where does other common design language originate? How can we improve our communication to match our intentions as home designers and create welcoming, inclusive, and adaptive spaces?
Through conversations and research, here are a few of the terms we have opted to replace as a studio and the alternatives we have adapted:
Powder room: While the term originated to reference a room where one powdered their wig, the phrase later took on gendered connotations around "powdering one's nose." The language has been replaced with "half-bath" for a more approachable and less gendered option.
Ladies and gentlemen or guys/gals: We have opted for folks, team, or friends for an option that does not assume or exclude gender identities.
"Man" as in, man the front desk, manmade, manpower: Our studio is replacing these with human-made, human power, staff the front desk for options that do not assert gender dominance or preference.
Grandfather: This phrase, commonly used in home design practices to indicate a non-conforming, pre-existing condition that may remain in violation of the building code, originated in the American South in the 1890s to defy the 15th Amendment and prevent Black Americans from voting. We've opted to use legacy or exempted.
Tipping Point: The phrase was first popularized when referencing white families leaving a neighborhood when a certain number of Black people moved in. We have opted for climax, peak, or crossroads.
His and hers closets or bathrooms: While commonly used in housing and real estate, the wording is gendered and assumes a hetero-normative lifestyle. We have switched to dual closets or dual bathrooms to describe the spaces without attaching any presumptions to their use.
Walk-up building: We are opting for non-elevator building to avoid language associated with ability.
Allowed: Frequently used conversationally, allowed implies power over another person to grant permission, and is being replaced with invited.
Discovered: In the context of "we discovered this artist's work," the word reinforces colonialist language and systems. We are opting for "we have learned of".
Blind approval: We are instead using unquestioned approval, automatic approval.
Idioms: Our studio is making an effort to avoid any idioms and instead speak literally. Many of these phrases have loaded historical origins, and because they are often regional, they may also be confusing or unclear, muddling communication.
If you are interested in learning more about inclusive language, here are a few of many available resources:
While language is only a piece of creating a safe and welcoming space, it is an important one to set the stage for accessibility and break a language pattern that carries an outdated and harmful legacy. This process is an ongoing one, and we are continuing to learn and adapt, both in our language use and in our design practice. We encourage you to join us in a collaborative effort to adapt, update, and improve our communication and continue in the ongoing conversation surrounding compassionate home design.
Sarah Barnard is a WELL and LEED accredited designer and creator of environments that support mental, physical and emotional wellbeing. She creates highly personalized, restorative spaces that are deeply connected to art and the preservation of the environment. An advocate for consciousness, inclusivity, and compassion in the creative process, Sarah has been quoted by Architectural Digest, Elle Décor, Vouge, Real Simple, HGTV and many other publications. In 2017 Sarah was recognized as a “Ones to Watch” Scholar by the American Society of Interior Designers (ASID).
Meet the Bedroom that Feels Like a Hug
Award-winning Interior Designer and American Society of Interior Designers (ASID) Ones to Watch Scholar Sarah Barnard has unveiled a happiness-inducing home design project— the bedroom that feels like a hug.
“We need a safe, restorative space to help our bodies rest and recharge,” says Barnard. A hug has many of the same characteristics, it makes us feel secure and comforted, and when we let go of the embrace, there’s a rush of oxytocin that leaves us with a sense of lightness.
Oxytocin is a neurotransmitter that acts on the brain’s emotional center, promoting feelings of contentment, reducing anxiety and stress. When you hug often, your level of oxytocin increases, which strengthens social bonds. Hugging also stimulates dopamine and serotonin production in the body. Dopamine is a pleasure hormone that’s part of the brain’s reward mechanism, while serotonin is responsible for maintaining mood balance.
The jumping-off point for the bedroom was the curvilinear bed frame, an award-winning design by Autoban, carved from American black walnut. Its silhouette mimics the action of hugging, and the interior is lined with purple velvet, blending the natural texture with dark, feminine styling. To further the feeling of intimacy, Barnard chose a non-toxic, king-size organic coconut mattress topped with a reversible duvet in a custom, color-blocking scheme.
The word ‘phantasmagoria’ is scrawled across the wall behind the bed — a neon homage to the images that flicker by in our dreams. The client, a self-proclaimed bookworm, chose the word herself after much deliberation. High-pile black carpeting delivers a softness underfoot, and layered window treatments allow the client to sleep undisturbed in total darkness. “Window coverings serve many purposes,” says Barnard. “Not only do they block out sunlight and create privacy, but they add a decorative element to the room that unifies the composition.”
The two-tone wall color, a marriage of plum and lavender, envelops the space. These hues were intentionally chosen to saturate the formerly bright bedroom, establishing a cozy, cocoon-like atmosphere. “The ceiling color extends to the walls, linking the two colors together in a way that the sharp ceiling line never could,” explains Barnard.
Hanging above the bespoke American Walnut nightstands are a pair of cloud-like pendant lights that emit a soft glow. A wall of concealed storage eliminates visual clutter, which can heighten our anxiety levels and impact sleep quality. Upholstered benches at the foot of the bed and by the entryway provide a comfortable spot to rest or dress in the morning.
It was the client who initially requested the space “feel like a hug,” which Barnard describes as a “brilliant explanation of what good bedroom design should do.” The revamped primary bedroom, a physical embodiment of a hug, provides all the comfort, safety, and well-being her client needs to settle into a restful slumber and wake up feeling warm and fuzzy.
See the rest of this home here Featured in LA Dreams Magazine
Historic Craftsman Bungalow: Small Footprint, Big Personality!
When the homeowner decided to invest in a neglected 1918 Craftsman bungalow, the task of home remodeling seemed daunting. Back then he says he was “insane enough to believe that it would be fun and rewarding to revive the house.” Drawn to the house’s beautiful raw Douglas fir post-and-beams sticking out amidst holes in the roof, broken windows with old layers of bizarre paint colors, the writer, lifelong traveler, and lover of the outdoors - saw something unique in the personality of the building.
At first, the homeowner undertook a lot of the basic structural repairs like repainting and patching holes in the roof himself. However, the overwhelming potential he saw in the space made the necessity of a remodel clear: “[It] got to a point where the house looked okay, but needed someone to integrate who I was with what the house could be. I had all these inchoate ideas, but did not know how to use them to bring out the best in the house.” With the house being historic and also less than 1000 square feet, he had a lot of ideas for his first home and a vast collection of objects and photos from his travels. “I was hoping,” he muses, “that somehow I could make a home that had enough of my past to feel safe, enough of my present to feel comfortable, and enough of my dreams to be inspiring.”
From there, the owner knew he needed interior designer Sarah Barnard to help translate his vision into home that was both functional and a reflection of his personality. Since she not only listened but also challenged him, he knew Sarah was the perfect fit: “She didn’t mirror my ideas back to me, she brought her own strong aesthetic to the table. I could see that she was going to challenge me, and I think conflict is as important as collaboration in an artistic process.”
It is evident in her design how Sarah thinks deeply about the client’s personality, especially in the case of this house: “She’s always looking for harmonious contrasts, both in materials and design, and the surprising connection between things on a deeper level.” The use of eco-friendly and natural materials highlights the homeowner’s love of nature, such as the recycled beer bottle kitchen countertop, and the sun tubes and pebble rocks in both showers that make him “feel like [he’s] showering outdoors.”
The final design of the house is filled with surprises, such as the wall cut-out between the kitchen and the dining room, uniting the front and back of the house. Besides the primary bathroom with pebble flooring and sun-tubes, the owner loves the fireplace with its collection of books, art, and objects from his years of travel.
Some of the essential details in the property were abandoned by the previous owner, which made for daunting projects. “The cabinet was built with the house, and took about 90 hours to strip, sand, and stain.” The homeowner’s handiwork is evident in the beautifully refinished cabinet, which now displays his personal collection of objects from around the world.
After all the stories which unfolded in this bungalow, perhaps the most perfect was gaining a new friend: his cat Lulu “adopted him” almost a year to the day after his dog passed. “Max was with me when I bought the house, and suffered through the renovations and mess - but he didn’t get to see it in its finished state. Then just before the final renovations are done, in waltzes Lulu - the same black coat with white fringe as Max…” The breezy Craftsman is ideal for Lulu who relishes her posts on windowsills to keep guard against squirrels, birds and other critters.
One great benefit of his new house that he entirely attributes to Sarah is space: “The best thing she did was recognize what was important [and] create space around that - which is really what I wanted in the end. I love my stuff, but I need space. She saw that before I did.”
Sarah Barnard designs healthy, happy, personalized spaces that are deeply connected to nature and art.
To learn more about Sarah Barnard Design, please visit www.SarahBarnard.com.