Minimalism, reconsidered.

No other interior style in the past five years has been as closely associated with elegance, chicness and a certain idea of “good taste” as minimal interior design. So much so that we’ve recently seen designers and design enthusiasts pushing towards more maximalist interiors as a form of resistance against the so-called “sad beige” aesthetic.

But I don't think minimalism is the problem.

I’ve always been drawn to the calm and grounding quality of light, restrained interiors. Beige, when used well, is anything but dull. There are plenty of designs that have been executed brilliantly through texture, proportion, and the right balance of earthy and light tones. What I question is how minimalism became synonymous with pale, monochromatic spaces in the first place. And whether what we are reacting to now was ever minimalism to begin with.

The term itself originates in post-war Western art and developed out of modernism, with its already reduced, “less is more” approach, led by architects such as Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. It was also a reaction to the louder expressionism that was prevalent at the time.

In design and architecture, minimalism describes the reduction of a subject to its essential elements and was never about a specific colour palette. The focus was on materiality, tactility, texture, weight, and density. Designers and architects who shaped this movement include Donald Judd, Dieter Rams and Isamu Noguchi in the 70s and 80s, and later John Pawson, Tadao Ando and Vincent van Duysen.

At its core, minimalism is deeply philosophical, influenced by Japanese Zen Buddhist thought, which values emptiness as a space of possibility. It’s an approach to living that emphasizes simplicity and the removal of unnecessary distractions in order to feel content and at peace. This shouldn’t be confused with mindless decluttering for aesthetic reasons. In this context, every removal is intentional and not just visual, and what remains is there for a reason, imperfections are accepted.

In minimalism, every item has a purpose and meaning and you have physically and visually space to breathe in order to feel at peace. Colour in this case is not necessarily relevant. Photo: Ginkgo Interiors

For me, this is far more than a trend that suddenly needs to be rejected just because colour is having a moment again.

Which brings me back to my issue. The current backlash against “minimalism” is, in many ways, a reaction to poorly executed, off-white monochromatic interiors that probably have very little to do with minimalism in the first place and are merely a surface-level interpretation of it. And maybe the answer isn’t “cluttercore” or overly eclectic interiors (which, by the way, can also be approached in a minimalist way). Maybe it’s simply a return to a more fundamental question and one that applies to any interior: What is really necessary? What moves me? What brings me peace?

None of the designers mentioned above worked exclusively with beige or only one colour palette. They rather studied materials and combined the warmth and soul of wood with the calm strength of concrete, and the softness of handmade linen. Furniture was reduced to its purpose, but never without presence. Decoration and art in these designs is always kept minimal but intentional, and always with meaning.

So next time someone tells you they hate minimalism and “sad beige” interiors, maybe it’s not minimalism they’re reacting to, but a version of it that was never really understood in the first place.