november 2025

The Art of Looking: Finding Inspiration Beyond the Screen

A gabillion years ago when I was just starting out in the interior design world, I got some advice that’s stuck with me: Learn how to look at things.

What does that mean and how do you do it? Great question, thanks for asking 😅

Getting out of the office is essential for fueling design. The best ideas aren’t sparked while tethered to a desk, staring at a screen—they emerge from the subconscious, shaped by the environments we immerse ourselves in. This summer, Adam and I spent a month working remotely from my hometown of New York (yes, “the cit-AYYY”), and it was exhilarating to soak up the energy. From daily walks through neighborhoods bursting with history to spontaneous discoveries in galleries and shop. A change of scenery really shifts how you see and think about design. Exposure to architecture, antiques, and cultural influences spark connections that can’t be manufactured.

So, how do I apply all this to my own sourcing and knowledge gathering? Another great question from you, Dear Reader!

First things first, I get up and walk out of the office, away from the interwebs and social media to see things in real life. Showrooms, stores, art galleries, and antiques shops. I love to travel and find some of my biggest, baddest ideas when I’m outside of my daily routine. Travel doesn’t have to mean big, expensive international trips -- do what your budget will allow. There’s good stuff in the next town over, like there’s good stuff overseas. Just get out! I can find value in exploring new places and spaces of all kinds, but this tactic is especially helpful for starting to understand what quality looks like, and why certain items cost what they cost (and being able to spot when something is tragically overpriced).

I’m the daughter of an attorney and a lifelong learner, so my questions can get incessant. When I’m looking at an antique, I ask when pieces were made, where, what year, perhaps what was happening in the world when it was made, which would influence the materials and methods used. I study the details, and especially the finishes. In this world of newness and immediate gratification, it is often forgotten that not everything has to be a simple satin oil finish (I mean, I don’t forget that…). There are only a few really great wood finishers out there these days. It’s a dying art. Take note (and samples) to them to keep the art alive!

When I look at newly produced pieces, I want to know how they’re made, what they’re made with, where they’re made, and what the components are. Can I change the cushion fill? Can I add (or remove) nailheads, trim, or other details? Are there finish options? Are they good? (see above) or are they cheap and will peel off before they even arrive at their final destination?

I also take time to really absorb how things are displayed in shops and showrooms, which provide more than just products; they offer lessons in composition. Displays reveal how color, pattern, and form can work together in unexpected ways. Vintage stores in particular often create juxtapositions that spark new ideas, but the same is true for carefully curated contemporary showrooms. Observing how items are grouped, paired, and styled can shift your perspective and open doors to creative combinations you might never have considered otherwise.

The beauty of this practice is its accessibility: You don’t need a passport or a major travel budget to gain inspiration. Small-town thrift shops, rotating auctions, or nearby antique dealers can provide a constant stream of fresh ideas. Cities, big and small, have architecture to admire, be it in government buildings or different examples of American Revival architecture through the centuries. The key is to get out, to look closely, and to let the world — in all its variety and detail — influence the work you bring back to your desk.

Now, if you’re able to get on a plane and travel to international locations, the whole world opens up. Touring architectural landmarks, exploring historic homes, and visiting museums dedicated to design and decorative arts puts our work into a broader continuum. Walking through a centuries-old house museum or studying the details of a Gothic cathedral isn’t just about admiring the past—it’s about learning from it. Proportions, craftsmanship, materials, and even the way spaces were intended to be lived in all become fuel for new ideas. Looking back at history often propels my work forward, reminding me that design is as much about what we absorb as what we create.

At the end of the day, “learning how to look at things” is really about staying curious. It’s about training your eye, slowing down, and letting the world feed your creativity in ways that a Pinterest board never could. Whether you’re wandering through a flea market in a small town or standing under the soaring arches of a cathedral, every surface, shadow, and story holds something to teach you—if you’re willing to look closely. So step away from the screen, keep asking questions, and let your surroundings be your greatest teacher. That’s where the real design magic begins.