My first build in Italy was a residence in Florence. It’s the first project I’ve undertaken in an Italian context, and the first time I’ve worked on an interior space. Delivering a project in Italy pushed past self-imposed limitations: on this project I had to set aside my identity as specialist in outdoor space and adopted the role of general designer. New, fun and very rewarding.

I don’t consider myself as having a signature style. But i do have tendencies. Less is more, when done right, is the approach I most relate to. 

Paring down finishes is an art. Different applications and products — different styles, different manufacturers. The challenge is to pull them together: more with less, in a good way.

Most of my work has been in the Gulf. That’s limiting when much of a project’s bits and pieces are imported. You end up distanced from the manufacturers, mostly dealing with the ones who have local suppliers. It doesn’t leave much room for innovation.

Setting up the studio in Florence has opened a world of possibilities. I didn’t realise how much until this project — a private apartment, taken back to the bones and completely redone.

Sounds strange, but for me tapware matters. People touch it, look at it up close. It’s in the spotlight — most often literally. The style of tap ware is a defining decision. So, what it says matters to the whole space. It’s a condensed, potent artifact of identity. 

The search led me to a manufacturer with an interesting backstory: a British metalworker who went looking for solid brass fittings with an industrial aesthetic, couldn’t find them, and decided to make his own. One thing led to the next — people noticing — and eventually to his own manufacturing workshop in the metalwork hub of Italy. 

Italy makes its taps in one place, more or less. Up in Piedmont, around Lake Orta, there’s a district that has bent brass and bronze for centuries — bell-founders and metalworkers who, sometime in the 1800s, turned to valves and faucets and never stopped. The town at its heart, San Maurizio d’Opaglio, is small enough that you could miss it, and proud enough of the trade that it built a museum to the tap. Nearly every name worth knowing still manufactures in this area. 

When a particular element sets the tone everything that follows must support it, not compete and not dilute. So when all other metal elements needed a specific combination of style, material and finish, I had my work cut out for me. I   attempted searching off-the-shelf products and realised this was likely to be unfruitful. Instead, 

I turned fabricators for custom-designed elements: shelves and racks, brackets for the shower glass vestibule, a bespoke mirror. Everything metal is bronze, with an unlacquered, aged patina that will change over time.

Reducing a palette is a simple formula for a sophisticated outcome — it worked here. It was more work than choosing off-the-shelf products, sure, but the result was worth it. The home is simple and beautiful. The mood is clean calmness. 

My first build in Italy taught me a lot. It left me inspired — to explore new design territories, and to realise the potential of Italian artisanal fabrication for our clients in the Gulf.