So much of interior design is centered around constructing. As designers, we’re building out a space, selecting finishes, and finalizing details down to the trimming on an accent pillow. Layer by layer, we’re creating a room with the goal of feeling inviting and comfortable. So, what happens when you strip that all away? 

 

The deconstructed design movement does just that, leaving you with raw edges, unfinished upholstery, and a peek behind the curtain (if you have a curtain to begin with). With no finishes to hide behind, you’re left with an acute awareness of the forms that make up the space. This harsh confrontation begs the question: Is less really more? 

What is Deconstructed Design? 

So, what exactly is deconstructed design? The deconstructed design movement challenges our notions of neatness, completeness, and even comfort across fashion, interiors, and architecture. Rather than striving for a finished product, deconstructed design presents the construction process in an unfinished state, showing off the raw forms we typically cover and hide with aesthetic finishes. Deconstructed furniture may feature exposed seams and missing upholstery panels, revealing the supportive raw wood frame. Deconstructed interiors and architecture forgo plush carpets, decorative paneling, and patterned wallpapers in favor of naked cinderblock walls, cold concrete floors, and unfinished beams.  

 

Rooted in Brutalist Design Principles 

It seems the deconstructed design movement pulls inspiration from Brutalism. The Brutalist design style originated during the 50s and 60s as a cost-effective way to manage post-war construction. It is named after the French word béton brut, meaning raw concrete, which was the main material used at the time for its wide availability and ease of use. Brutalist buildings are no-frills, austere, and unadorned. Images of your college lecture hall may come to mind. 

 

Unlike many of the preceding architectural styles, Brutalism exposed and celebrated the construction materials used. Function was placed at the forefront, letting raw materials speak for themselves with absolutely no distracting frills. 

Deconstructed design acts on a similar principle, stripping away the finishes that hide the form. However, these ornaments, like cushions, upholstery, and pillows, are often what gives us the most comfort.

 

Celebrating Form Over Finishes

It should come as no surprise that a chair stripped of its upholstery is far less comfortable than an overstuffed wingback accented with a needlepoint pillow and a throw over the arm. While the deconstructed design movement inevitably makes our homes and furnishings less comfortable, they somehow become more desirable for some folks. 

As someone who doesn’t want to render my reading chair a skeleton, it is hard for me to see the appeal. However, I have seen the movement well applied in many homes. Maybe it is the celebration of form and seeing how something is made? When a chair’s frame is exposed, it is impossible to hide the quality of craftsmanship. Maybe the celebration of form over finishes makes folks feel more connected to where these pieces came from and how they came to furnish their home. I’m not sure. 

 

But I am sure I can appreciate the form while enjoying the finish. 

 

Contrasting the Deconstructed with the Decorative  ​​

You can’t have the beautiful without the ugly. And you can’t have the decorative without the deconstructed. While I would shy away from stripping my home down to the uncomfortable bones, there is value in creating contrast in a space, blending the high and low. Hanging your children’s art next to a museum-quality painting makes the family’s work feel even more personal. Hanging a disco ball in an oak-panelled office creates a fun surprise. Similarly, pairing a deconstructed armchair next to an overstuffed sofa will make the deep, cushioned seating look like an even more comfortable refuge.  

A few designers do this exceptionally well, creating beautifully contrasted and storied spaces. Kelly Wearstler incorporates many Brutalist and natural raw elements into her designs. However, her spaces are far from bare and minimalist. She combines Brutalist pieces with more maximalist decor elements from the Art Deco and Art Nouveau periods. There are no sacrifices in finishes; instead, every surface is a celebration of materials. The results are stunning. 

 

Similarly, Axel Vervoordt borrows from Brutalist principles of minimalism and raw forms. However, he does so in Belgian estates already layered with hundreds of years of history, material, and texture. Taking a simplified approach here allows for a fuller appreciation of the space itself and the antiquity of the architectural and furniture pieces that fill it. 

 

While these designers embrace the forms that make up a space, they still honor the finishes that make them comfortable for those who inhabit them.

 

What’s the Appeal Behind Deconstructed Design? 

As someone who works hard to build layers upon layers of comfort into the spaces I design, it is safe to say my feelings on the deconstructed design movement are mixed. What exactly is the appeal? For the new generation collecting antiques, pieces that have naturally been deconstructed through the years earn a badge of authenticity. There is also something that feels historical about it, like architectural salvage that was pulled from another building and lived many lives before it found a place in your home. For those who live outside the world of design, it is probably a joy to strip back the layers and see the artistry behind the handmade pieces they purchase. If the deconstructed design movement appeals to you, by all means, try it out. 

 

Just don’t deconstruct your comfort in the process.