By Max Birkin for House of Henley

Of all the interior decorating styles, Minimalism is perhaps the most divisive. It is certainly the most misunderstood. The general view on Minimalism is often very reductive – people think it involves totally empty spaces with concrete floors and raw plaster walls, or lives led with only the barest minimum of essentials. On top of this, there is the false notion that a more modern home with fewer things in it is simpler to create. Minimalism is not 'easy', nor does it require less effort - in fact, it is often rather harder to achieve than more chintzy styles. The final misconception is that Minimalism looks cheap; this is totally and completely wrong. Leather and steel are ruinously expensive once combined by a clever designer into the shape of a chair, and a minimalist home offers no places for badly made furniture or DIY shortcuts to hide. As for the notion that minimalism is only about empty spaces, think again; whilst this style does have an element of discipline, and does involve having less, it comes with a strong focus on how this can vastly improve your life. Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus declare Minimalism to be “a tool that can assist you in finding freedom”. That may sound rather hyperbolic but equating domestic spaces and our way of life is hardly a new concept, certainly not since we were all forcibly confined to our homes and saw quite how strongly a physical reality can affect our mental state. For them, living with less is a way to achieve “freedom from overwhelm. Freedom from guilt […] freedom from the trappings of the consumer culture we’ve built our lives around”. So yes, Minimalism is a little more intense than keeping the kitchen island clear.

From Post-War to KimYe

Minimalism is usually accredited to a post-war desire for a new way of doing things; a rebellion against the heavy design of yore and a reflection of the advances made since the end of WWII. We are quick to mark out Minimalism as an achievement of Western society, a movement that started with the Arts and Crafts era, moved through the inception of Bauhaus and culminated in Le Corbusier. Really, though, we have Japan to thank for introducing us to Minimalism. Their culture of possessing fewer things, and only objects or furniture that have been crafted to the highest of standards, was what inspired the big-name architects of the 20th century to embrace simpler designs. When looking at Minimalist homes, this Eastern origin is obvious – the linear design, wide apertures and low profiles are all borrowed from traditional Japanese architecture. We also have Japan to thank for the interior courtyards that often crop up in Minimalist homes, which are a physical manifestation of ‘Ma’, the principle of open and empty space. If you fancy an enjoyable pop-culture diversion, take the Architectural Digest tour of Kim Kardashion and Kanye West’s startingly minimal new home; a surprisingly adept execution of Ma in a modern context from an unlikely source.

The art of Ma

Ma is more than just a design principle though; it guides the layout and usage of homes and spaces, but also directs how the residents of such a home should live their life. Minimalism involves both design and a way of living, which is perhaps why it is such a cerebral school of design. Of those two strands, we tend to focus on the design side, which has a slightly off-colour reputation. The television programme Absolutely Fabulous skewered minimalism in an episode entitled ‘White Box’, where Edina visited the eponymous home of two friends. Devoid of furniture, dotted with strange pieces of ‘art’ and harshly lit, this space represented the nightmare minimalism that more mad-cap designers of the 1990s advocated. However, it only takes a brief look at examples of ‘original’ Minimalist architecture to dispel the severity of the 90s; Mies van der Rohe famously told us that “less is more”, as well designing the buildings and furniture we might immediately recognise as Minimalist. His German Pavilion in Barcelona is in many ways the blueprint for minimalist and modern home designs the world over, and his consciously unnatural aesthetic (straight lines, angular profiles, manmade materials) remains inspirational. Yet, whilst the materials of his projects might appear cold, their use is perfectly balanced with the furniture van der Rohe designed specifically for these spaces. The Barcelona chair may be made of leather and metal, but the angled seat was designed for supreme comfort and support, as well as to give visual pleasure.

Style or Lifestyle

The other side of Minimalism is trickier to pin down and is again closely linked to Japanese culture. Instead of accumulating ‘stuff’, Minimalism counsels us to reject superfluity in favour of simplicity, and to take pleasure in basic comforts. Japanese novelist Banana Yoshimoto explores the pride and comfort to be taken in simple functional objects in her book Kitchen, advocating a kind of communion with object, act and user; when reading the book, it is impossible to separate the protagonist’s persona from her home and the objects she cherishes. Closer to home, the late Terence Conran united the two strands of Minimalism, creating a palatable and (most importantly) comfortable iteration that was eventually brought to the masses via his store Habitat. Conran also acts as a rebuttal to the oft-heard protest that Minimalism is exclusive – in 2017, The Guardian, in a piece titled “Minimalism: another boring product wealthy people can buy” described it as “a way of aping the connotations of simplicity […] without actually having to give up those sweet, sweet class signifiers”. The humble duvet, Habitat’s most famous product, is the best answer to this - it is a rather pleasing example of Minimalism being at once simple, aesthetically pleasing, and accessible. It looks good, is simple to use and gives maximum comfort – there are few people out there who do not relish climbing under the duvet on an Autumnal evening, and the pleasure that such a simple and intuitive act gives is very Minimalist indeed.

When it comes to thinking about engaging with Minimalism in your own home, it’s back to that William Morris quote about only having things in your home that you either love or know to be useful. This is tricky; our modern lives are busy and we are surrounded by fast fashion, flimsy furniture and ready-meals. The solution is to channel your inner monk and to draw a little self-satisfaction and smugness from denying yourself the momentary rush of buying another jumper from Asos, or two funky avocado dishes that you will never ever use. In fact, this is where any financial restrictions caused or exacerbated by Coronavirus might be positively exploited; cut back on spending, think about what you are purchasing and repeat Mies van der Rohe’s “less is more” mantra over and over. Minimalism is often regarded as an impossible design aesthetic to follow if you have a partner, family, animal or any human tendencies (ie. being messy). However, by embracing both Minimalist design and Minimalist living, it is possible to be a Minimalist. It is most simply realised with a combination of storage and ruthless editing. Your kitchen won’t look particularly freeing when it has a partially dissembled Tommee Tippee bottle steriliser spread across it, nor will your Mies van der Rohe daybed look good alongside the garish plasticity of FisherPrice toys. Storage will help with keeping the detritus of children out the way, but you really also need to think hard about what it is that you actually require to live happily and comfortably. This applies to the playroom as well as the kitchen and sitting room – you probably need a sous vide stick or food dehydrator about as much as your son or daughter needs eleven Nerf guns. Another mantra to tell your children (and yourself, actually): tidy house, tidy mind.

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