story_003_design philosophy

12.11.2024

design philosophy

In our journey through life, we inevitably form connections with people and objects around us. These connections often take root deep within our minds, unnoticed. As time passes and life gets busy, such memories start to fade.

Back in my childhood I lived in countryside for a while, most of the houses were two or three stories high. Their walls were typically made of red bricks with a layer of cement render on top, while the interiors were coated with plaster and emulsion paint. Living rooms and kitchens were usually on the ground floor, perhaps to allow for social interaction, floors were normally tiled with ceramic tiles, older homes often tiled with 300x300mm red clay tiles. The upper floors, typically designated as bedrooms or private spaces, had no floor tiles; instead, they used a simple cement-sand screed for a smoother surface. As a child, I spent a lot of time walking barefoot on these cement floors. Later, as I grew up and moved to the city for school and work, life became a relentless hustle and bustle, and the pace of societal development continued to accelerate.

About ten years ago, if not earlier, exposed concrete began gaining popularity worldwide. Minimalism became a global trend, and exposed concrete was celebrated by advocates of simplicity, causing this architectural style to reach new heights. Previously, concrete was reserved for public or industrial spaces; now, it’s found in residential interiors as well. Around eight or nine years ago, I encountered the work of Japanese architect Tadao Ando for the first time. This brought a flood of memories of my rural upbringing from three decades ago. As a child, I didn’t have any specific feelings about building materials; cement was just a commonplace material, and the humble houses of my childhood were incomparable to Tadao Ando’s masterpieces. However, I realized that cement created a bridge to my childhood memories, the sensation of barefoot steps on concrete. Even now, whenever I see a building or object with exposed concrete, there’s a profound sense of familiarity; concrete has naturally become one of my favorite materials.

For a long time, I was drawn to architectural styles combining exposed concrete with minimalism and brutalism. But one day, my wife told me that if she had to live in such a space, she’d feel as if she were in a constant state of meditation, she couldn’t stand it as it didn’t feel like home. I felt she didn’t understand the raw aesthetics of concrete, yet I also came to see that my connection to this material was personal. Everyone’s life experience is different, and so are their external connections. Some pursue simplicity and tranquility, while others seek vibrant, colorful lives. I know someone who spent a large sum shipping a dining table from Hong Kong to the UK when he moved, even though similar tables are readily available in the UK. For him, that table was about more than just material value, it represented a deeper connection.

Likewise, design style is highly individual. I lean toward a simple, monochromatic palette of black, white, and gray, while my wife believes that life needs a splash of color. Even within minimalist design, everyone may interpret it differently, leading to diverse outcomes. Some people hire architects or designers because they admire their style, and I hope that people will seek me out for the same reason, recognizing my vision. Those who know me well understand that I’m a minimalist enthusiast. But when I design a living space for clients, I often remind myself to distinguish between my own desired spaces and what is ideal for my clients, what role am I playing? It’s not my place to impose my mind onto others. The challenge, and my ultimate goal, is to create designs that resonate with clients. I don’t have esoteric theories, functionality is my guide and the core of my design, from which I build outward, thoughtfully integrating form, materials, colours, and other elements. Through my designs, I aim to create spaces where clients can feel a sense of belonging and return to their personal sanctuary after a busy day.

P.s. Hi there, my name is Kent, the founder and director of halffull studio. Originally, I created this 'stories' section on our website to briefly introduce our studio’s background and philosophy. But as I kept writing, I felt inspired to share more about our thoughts and future direction. I’m not a professional blogger or writer, and sometimes my words might fall short. Actually, in my circle, most people just consider me a ‘renovation guy’.

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